The garden again has the splendor of youth's time

Good tidings of roses reach the sweet-singing nightingale

O morning breeze, if you pass by the young ones of the meadow

Convey our regards to the cypress, rose and basil

If the wine-selling magian youth displays such beauty

I'll sweep the tavern's doorstep with my eyelashes

O you who draw a polo stick of pure amber across the moon

Do not further disturb the state of this wandering one

I fear these people who laugh at the pain-bearers

Will stake their faith on the work of the tavern

Be a friend to God's people, for in Noah's ark

There is earth that cares not for the flood

Go from heaven's house and seek not bread

For that black bowl will finally kill its guest

Whoever's final resting place is a handful of dust

Tell them what need to raise their palace to the heavens

My moon of Canaan, the throne of Egypt is now yours

It's time to bid farewell to the prison

Hafez, drink wine and be a rend and be happy, but

Don't make the Quran a snare of deceit like others