In the game of glances, the unaware are bewildered

I am as I appear; others know me as such

The wise are the center point of the compass of existence, yet

Love knows that they wander aimlessly in this circle

The place where her face is revealed is not seen by my eyes alone

The moon and the sun also turn this mirror

God made our covenant with the sweet-lipped ones

We are all servants, and these people are the masters

We are poor, yet we have the desire for wine and a musician

Alas, if they do not take the woolen cloak as collateral

The union of the sun does not reach the blind moth

For in that mirror, the insightful are bewildered

The boast of love and complaint against the beloved—what a false boast!

Such lovers are deserving of separation

Perhaps your dark eyes will teach me a lesson

Otherwise, not everyone can conceal and be intoxicated

If the breeze carries your scent to the abode of souls

Reason and soul will scatter the jewels of existence as offerings

If the ascetic does not understand Hafez's libertinism, what of it?

The devil flees from those who recite the Quran

If the simpletons become aware of our thoughts

After this, they will not take the Sufi's cloak as collateral