I wrote the story of my longing while my tears flowed,

Come, for without you, I am near death from sorrow.

Many times have I spoken of longing with my own two eyes,

O abodes of Salma, where is Salma now?

A strange event and a wondrous occurrence,

I patiently endured being slain, while my slayer complains.

Who dares to find fault with your pure skirt?

For your purity is like a drop that falls on a rose petal.

The water gave beauty to the tulip and rose from the dust of your feet,

As the pen of creation inscribed with water and earth.

The morning breeze became scattering perfume, O cupbearer, arise!

And bring a sun of generosity, fragrant and pure.

Abandon laziness, you will gain, as a proverb has been said,

That the provision of travelers is agility and alertness.

No trace remains of me without your image, yes,

Yes, the traces of my life are your life.

How can Hafez speak of describing your beauty?

For it is like God's creation, beyond comprehension.