At dawn nightingale told tale to morning breeze

That love of rose's face what did to us

From that color my face fell blood in heart

And from that rose-garden made me afflicted to thorn

I'm slave to aspiration of that delicate one

Who did good deed without face and hypocrisy

I won't complain of strangers anymore

For whatever was done to me that familiar one did

If I desired from sultan it was mistake

And if I sought loyalty from beloved they did cruelty

May it be pleasant that morning breeze

That cured night-sitters' pain

Drew rose's veil and hyacinth's tress

Untied knot of bud's robe

In every direction loving nightingale in lament

Made pleasure from midst of morning breeze

Take good news to wine-sellers' street

That Hafez repented from hypocritical piety

Loyalty from city's masters with me

Kamal of fortune and religion Abu'l-Wafa did