I have an eye that weeps blood from the hand of that bow-like eyebrow

The world will see much turmoil from that eye and that eyebrow

I am a slave to the eye of that Turk, who in sweet drunken sleep

Her face is the beauty of the garden, and her eyebrow is a musk-scented canopy

My body has become a crescent from this grief, for with the curve of her eyebrow

What moon could show itself from the arch of the sky's eyebrow?

The rivals are unaware, and we, from that eye and forehead, every moment

There are thousands of messages, and the doorkeeper is between the eyebrows

For the reclusive souls, her forehead is a wondrous flower garden

Where over the edge of its jasmine field, the eyebrow roams gracefully

No one will speak of other houris and fairies with such beauty

For this one has such an eye, and that one has such an eyebrow

You, with a heart of stone, do not tie the veil of your hair, and I fear

That the curve of that beloved eyebrow may turn my prayer niche

Though Hafez was a clever bird in loyalty

The eye of that bow-like eyebrow captured him with the arrow of a glance