in the royal sun-like mirror reflecting your beauty,
is the turning censer of black musk, your mole.
i washed the palace courtyard of the eye, but why?
this corner is not worthy of your mind’s calvary.
o sun of beauty, you are the summit of grace-
my lord, may you never set until the ressurection!
no more excellent image of you will exist
than the portrait in pen with eyebrows of musk!
why are you so sad, o heart, wrapped in her curls-
when the dawn breeze spoke of you as enamored?
the scent of rose has rioted- enter by the door of peace;
o new spring, the cheek of grace is your augury!
so that the heavens become a ring for our ears,
where is the twinkling eye and crescent eyebrow?
that i might again approach fortune with praise,
where is the news of the festival of union?
this black point which has become the pivot of light,
is the reflection in the garden of vision of your mole.
before the master, of what should i complain-
a list of my own needs, or your great vexation?
hafez, the heads of so many drinkers lie on the floor-
but don’t be deluded that it’s beyond your capacity!
notes: hafez had to earn a living. ring for our ears…=
since slaves are marked by earrings, “enslave us with
your heavenly beauty”. black point= hafez’s pupil, which
reflects the patron’s mole. this line echoes the first.
