The cupbearer tells the story of the cypress, the rose, and the tulip

And this discussion is with the three washed ones

It gives that the bride of the meadow has found the limit of beauty

The work of this time is going from the art of brokerage

All the parrots of India are sugar-breakers

From this Persian sugar that goes to Bengal

See the passage of place and time in the journey of poetry

For this child goes on a one-year journey in one night

See that intoxicating eye, the deceiver of the worshiper

The caravan of the morning is going from behind

Do not go on the path of the world's deception, for this old woman

Sits in wickedness and goes in deception

The spring breeze blows from the king's rose garden

And the wine's dew is going into the tulip cup

Hafez, from the joy of the gathering of Sultan Ghiyath al-Din

Do not be unaware, for your work is going from crying