I went to the garden at dawn to pick a flower,

Suddenly, the song of a nightingale came to my ear.

Wretched like me, he was afflicted with the love of a flower,

And in the meadow, he had cast a clamor of cries.

I wandered in that meadow and garden moment by moment,

I pondered upon that flower and nightingale.

The flower has become the friend of beauty, and the nightingale the companion of love,

There is no superiority for one, nor change for the other.

When the nightingale's song affected my heart,

I became such that no patience remained in me.

Many flowers bloom in this garden, but

No one has picked a flower from it without the thorn's affliction.

Hafez, do not expect relief from the turning of the sky,

It has a thousand faults and no superiority.