Ghazal 064 from Divan of Hafez

Though it's rude to display one's skills before the beloved,
My tongue is silent, yet my heart is full of Arabic verse.

A fairy hides her face, and a devil lurks in her beauty's charm;
My eyes burn in wonder at this strange paradox.

In this garden, a thornless rose has never been plucked, truly;
The light of the Prophet is combined with the flame of a lowly lamp.

Don't ask why the heavens nurture the lowly,
For giving pleasure to them is a baseless excuse.

For half a grain, I would not exchange my place in a tavern or caravanserai,
For me, a bench in the courtyard and the foot of a wine jug is enough.

The beauty of the rose-faced maiden is the light of our eyes, perhaps,
Hidden behind a glass veil and a grape-colored curtain.

I had a thousand wits and manners, O master,
Now that I am a drunken wretch, rudeness is appropriate.

Bring me wine, for Hafez has a thousand complaints,
From the morning's tears to the midnight's plea.