I drew the image of your face in the workshop of my eyes

I have not seen or heard of a figure like you

Although I am like the north wind in seeking you

I have not reached the circle of your cypress-like stature

I did not place hope in the day of life within your night hair

I gave up the desire for your mouth's curve from the wish of my heart

In the longing for your letter's fountain, what drops I shed

From your ruby wine-seller, what coquetry I bought

From your glances, what arrows you loosed on my wounded heart

What burdens I bore on your path from sorrow

O morning breeze, bring dust from the beloved's alley

For I heard the scent of my wounded heart's blood from that soil

It was the fault of your black eyes and desirable neck

That I fled from humans like a wild deer

Like a bud, when a breeze from his alley passed over me

I tore the veil from my blood-stained heart with his scent

By the dust of your feet and Hafez's eyes' light

That without your face, I saw no light from the lamp of my eyes