The heart is the pavilion of their love

The eye is the mirror-holder of their countenance

I who don't bow to both worlds

My neck is under the burden of their favor

You and Tuba and we and the beloved's stature

Each one's thought is according to their aspiration

If my skirt is soiled what wonder

All the world bears witness to their purity

Who am I in that sanctuary where the morning breeze

Is the curtain-keeper of their sacred precinct

May the eye's view never be without their image

For this corner is their place of solitude

Every fresh rose that adorns the meadow

Is from the effect of their company's color and scent

Majnun's era has passed and it's our turn

Each person has their turn for five days

The kingdom of love and the treasure of joy

All I have is from the blessing of their aspiration

If I and heart are sacrificed what matter

The purpose in between is their well-being

Don't look at apparent poverty for Hafez

His breast is the treasure house of their love