This cloak that I have is better pawned for wine

And this meaningless book is better drowned in pure wine

Since I wasted my life, as much as I looked

It is better to fall wasted in the corner of a tavern

Since prudence is far from dervishhood

Both a heart full of fire and eyes full of tears are better

I will not tell the state of the ascetic to the people

If I tell this tale, it is better with the harp and lute

As long as the conditions of the heavens are like this

Desire for the cupbearer in the head and wine in hand is better

I will not part my heart from a beloved like you, indeed

If I bear a burden, it is better from the curl of that hair

When you grow old, Hafez, leave the tavern

Roguery and lustfulness are better in the age of youth