If I could reach the curls of your hair

Like a ball, how many heads I would toss with your polo stick

Your hair gives me a long life, but it is not

In my hand, not a single strand of that long life

O candle, give comfort to the moth tonight

For I melt like a candle before you, from the fire of my heart

At that moment when I give my soul like a wine flask with a single laugh

I want your intoxicated ones to perform my prayer

Since my prayer is not a tainted prayer

In the tavern, my burning and melting will not lessen

If your image comes to the mosque and the tavern

I will make the prayer niche and the fiddle from your two eyebrows

If you illuminate our solitude one night with your face

I will raise my head like the dawn over the horizons of the world

The end of this path will be praiseworthy

Even if my head is lost in the pursuit of my desires

Hafez, to whom should I tell the sorrow of my heart in this age

Except the wine cup, which is worthy of being the confidant of my secret