O Lord, what was the occupation in the tavern at dawn?

For the wine, the cupbearer, the candle, and the torch were boiling

The story of love, which is independent of words and sounds

Was in the cry of the drum and the flute, in tumult and commotion

The discussions that were taking place in that gathering of madness

Were beyond the school and the question of what is said

The heart was in gratitude to the cupbearer, but

It was complaining a little about the misfortune of its fate

I compared, and that intoxicating eye

Was like the thousand magicians of Sameri in the crowd

I said to him, 'Refer a kiss to my lips'

He said with a laugh, 'Who is this transaction with you?'

From my star, a fortunate glance is on the path, for last night

There was a confrontation between the moon and the face of my beloved

The mouth of the beloved, which had the cure for Hafez's pain

Alas, what a narrow patience was the time of kindness