I, who boil like a wine jar from the fire of my heart

With a seal on my lips, I drink blood and remain silent

It is the aim of life to desire the lips of the beloved

You see me striving for this with all my soul

When will I be free from the sorrow of my heart, when every moment

The Indian tresses of a beauty make a ring in my ear

God forbid that I am not a believer in my own obedience

This much is true, that I occasionally drink a cup

I have hope that, despite my enemies, on the Day of Judgment

The grace of His forgiveness will not place the burden of sin on my shoulders

My father sold the garden of paradise for two grains of wheat

Why should I not sell the kingdom of the world for a stream

My wearing of the cloak is not out of extreme piety

It is a veil to cover a hundred hidden faults

I, who desire to drink nothing but the pure wine of the jar

What can I do if I do not heed the words of the elder of the Magians

If the minstrel of the assembly strikes the path of love with this hand

The poetry of Hafez will take away my senses at the time of ecstasy