‘Tis a time since the passion for idols was my faith: The pain of this work, the joy of the sorrowful heart of mine is.
For beholding Thy ruby, the soul-seeing eye is necessary: where this rank for the world-seeing eye of mine is.
Be my friend. For the day’s decoration and time’s advancement, From the moon-face of Thine and from the Pleiades-like tears of mine is.
Since Thy love gave me instruction in speech-uttering, The practice of the people’s tongue, the praise and the glory of mine is.
O God! keep for me the lot of poverty For this blessing, the cause of pomp and of power of mine is.
O admonisher, ruler-recognizer! display no pride For the lodging of the Sultan, the wretched heart of mine is.
O Lord! that Ka’ba of object is whose place of entertainment, The mighty thorn of whose Path, the rose and the wild rose of mine is.
Hafez! utter not again the tale of the pomp of Parviz, Whose lip, the draft-drinker of the sweet Khosro of mine is.
