The Beloved's curls are the cause of my suffering,
I can't begin to express my poverty.Don't give away your heart and truth in the hope of constancy.
For my part, I regret my past actions.I suffer at the hands of ignorant men,
all because of a drink that harms no one.O priest! Forgive Hafiz his ruby wine,
Wine stole my heart and my faith, believe that.Many problems have ached my soul;
The priests only say: "Don't look, don't question."I wish to remain always in blessedness.
The Beloved's charming eyes are the cause of my impiety.I went to gaze in the orbiting sphere,
It said: "Allah's tools make me rise and fall."I asked: "In who's blood will you bathe your curls?"
The Beloved said: "Hafiz, forget this, for Allah's sake."
