Blessed is the heart that is always seeking the beloved's glance

And does not go unaware to every door that is called

It was not right for me to have hope in those sweet lips

But how can a fly not go after sugar?

The sorrowful eye of mine is washed with tears

For the image of your mole is never erased from my sight

Do not withhold your scent from me, like the breeze of the morning

For without the head of your tresses, I will not go to my head

O heart, do not be so wandering and aimless

For no work will be done by you with this skill

Do not look at me with the eye of contempt, O intoxicated one

For the honor of the law will not go to this extent

I, a beggar, have a desire for a tall stature

For my hand will not go to his waist except with silver and gold

You are a world of moral virtues

And my promise of faithfulness will not be forgotten by you

I do not see anyone more black-hearted than myself

How can the smoke of my heart not go to the head of my pen?

Do not take away my crown from the path, for it will become white again

For the hunter will not go after every small game

Bring wine and first give it to Hafez's hand

On the condition that the conversation will not go out of the gathering