If cupbearer pours wine from this manner into cup

Will throw all mystics into perpetual drinking

And if thus places mole's grain under tress's curl

Oh many wisdom's bird that will throw into trap

How blessed fortune of that drunk who at companion's feet

Doesn't know which to throw head or turban

Raw ascetic who denies wine and cup

Will become cooked when throws look at raw wine

Day strive in gaining art for day's wine drinking

Will throw mirror-like heart into darkness's rust

That time is morning wine's light time when night

Throws evening's curtain around horizon's tent

Don't drink wine with city's moral police beware

Will drink your wine and throw stone at cup

O Hafez raise head from sun's crown corner

If your fortune throws lot to that full moon