Ghazal 027 from Divan of Hafez

In the tavern of the Magi, my beloved arrived, cup in hand,
Drunk from wine, and the drunkards are intoxicated by her intoxicating narcissus.

In the horseshoe of her steed, the shape of the new moon is visible,
And the cypress tree is short compared to her tall stature.

How can I say that I know myself when I don't?
And for what reason should I say that I don’t look at her when I do?

The candle of my heart, my companion, went out when she arose,
And the sighs of the lovelorn arose when she sat down.

If musk became fragrant, it twisted in her hair,
And if kohl became a bow, it joined her eyebrow.

Come back, for Hafez's passing life may return,
Although the arrow that has left the finger may not return.