from the beginning, the one worthy of the grace of fortune,
until the end, holds the cup of desire as the soul’s friend.
that very moment i was about to repent of wine-
i said, “if this vine bears fruit, it will be all remorse.”
boldly, i threw the lily-white prayer rug over my shoulder.
would a cloak colored rose-red with wine, suit the moslem?
without the lamp of the cup, i cannot find my solitary seat-
look- the back alley of the people of heart must have light!
ignore the jeweled cup, but have the sublime desire-
to the rend, the water of the grape is precious ruby!
although our work appears a muddle, don’t think it easy-
indeed, in this country, begging is the pride of sultans.
if you desire good name, o heart, don’t talk with the bad-
wretched company, my dear, is proof of ignorance.
spring, good friends and reciting poetry among us-
bad luck, not to seize the wine cup from the beloved.
yesterday, a friend said, “hafez drinks in secret”-
my dear, that is no crime which is better concealed!