Even the King is amazed by your eyes,
your lips can make sober men drunk.The warm wind will tell the secrets of your beauty,
and my tears will soon betray my Love.When you walk by with your silky hair,
have pity on your weeping lovers.See how the warm wind caresses the violets,
Your curls have left people in crisis.O Priest! Why don't I deserve paradise?
Both the sinner and the pious deserve equal mercy.Lucky nightingale, follow me,
I walk alone while believers go in packs.Come to the tavern and redden your face in wine,
Forget the ascetics; there's nothing divine about their act.Let Hafiz remain under your curly locks,
Those in your threads attain salvation.
