The curl of your tress is the trap of faith and infidelity

From its workshop this is just one sample

Your beauty is beauty's miracle but

The tale of your glance is manifest magic

From your mischievous eyes how can one save the soul

For it's always with bow in ambush

A hundred praises be upon those black eyes

That in lover-slaying creates magic

A strange science is the science of love's form

That its eighth heaven is the seventh earth

You think the slanderer went and saved his life

His reckoning is with the noble scribes

Don't be secure, Hafez, from the plot of their tress

For it stole the heart and now concerns itself with faith