For some time now, I have been serving in the tavern

In the guise of poverty, I perform the work of the fortunate

How long until I capture that graceful partridge in the snare of union?

I lie in wait and bide my time for the perfect opportunity

Our preacher has not scented the fragrance of truth—listen to this

I say it even in his presence; I do not speak ill behind his back

Stumbling and rising, I journey with the breeze to the abode of the beloved

And I seek the strength of my companions along the path

The dust of your doorstep can no longer bear the burden of my presence

You have shown kindness, my love; I lessen my demands

The beloved's tresses are the trap of the path, and their glances are arrows of affliction

Remember, O heart, how often I offer you this counsel

Cover the gaze of the envious, O noble concealer of faults

From these audacities I commit in the corner of seclusion

In one gathering, I am Hafez the drinker of sorrows; in another, I am something else

Behold this jest, how I play my art among the people