O heart, burn, for your burning will accomplish things

A midnight prayer can ward off a hundred calamities

Endure the reproach of the fairy-faced beloved with love

For one coquettish glance can make up for a hundred cruelties

From the earthly realm to the heavens, they lift the veil

Whoever serves the world-revealing cup

The physician of love is Jesus-like and compassionate, but

If he sees no pain in you, whom will he cure?

Settle your affairs with God and be content

For if mercy does not come, the claimant of God will act

I am weary of the sleeping fortune, for its awakening

At the time of the morning prayer, it will make a supplication

Hafez burned, but he did not catch a whiff of the beloved's tress

Unless the breeze guides him to this fortune