My heart in desire for Farokh's face

Is disheveled like Farokh's hair

Except the Hindu of their tress no one is

Who benefited from Farokh's face

Fortunate is that blackness which always

Is confidant and companion of Farokh

Becomes like trembling willow the free cypress

If it sees Farokh's heart-seeking stature

Give cupbearer the crimson wine

In memory of Farokh's magic narcissus

Bent became my stature like a bow

From grief constantly like Farokh's eyebrow

The Tatar musk breeze made ashamed

The scent of Farokh's ambergris-scented tress

If everyone's heart's desire is in its place

My heart's desire is toward Farokh

I'm slave to the aspiration of one who is

Like Hafez servant and Hindu of Farokh