idol, how am i to manage the pain of love for you,
and for how long do i cry in grief through the night?
the heart goes berserk when it is so rebuked-
unless all of your curls secure me with chains.
by your head of curls, my total distraction is such
where is the skill to explain each one, all at once?
all that i have suffered in separation from you,
is ridiculous to recount in this single ghazal.
when it is time to desire sight of the beloved,
i paint my mind with the image of your beautiful face.
if i knew that in this way union would be granted,
i would bet my heart and faith, and win so much more.
keep your good distance preacher, and stop blathering-
i’m not the one to listen to dressed-up lies- again!
there is no hope of honor from corruption, hafez
and when fate is such, how can i re-arrange it?