Last night, he came and his face was inflamed

Until where, again, a sorrowful heart was burned

The custom of killing lovers and the way of city riots

Was a garment that was sewn on his stature

The soul of lovers knew his face

And the fire of his face was inflamed for this work

Although he said that he would kill me, I saw

That his hidden glance was with me, sorrowful

The infidelity of his tresses was leading the way of faith, and that heavy heart

Was following him with a torch from his inflamed face

The heart brought much blood to the palm, but the eye poured out

O Lord, what he wasted and what he had stored

Do not sell your beloved to the world, for it did not bring much profit

For he who sold Joseph for a few coins

He said, and said well, 'Go, burn your cloak, Hafez'

O Lord, from whom did he learn this knowledge of the heart?