O you, whose beaming face lights the moon of beauty, and
Whose chin-dimple›s well waters the land of loveliness,
When shall this goal be attained, O Lord, that the two be in Accord:
My collected mind and your uncollected tress?
My soul, which has risen to my lips, desires to see you.
Should it return or leave? What is your command?
Keep your skirt far from dust and blood as you pass by us.
Many are the dead on this road, sacrificed for you.
My heart is raising havoc. Inform my beloved.
Please, my friends, have mercy on my soul and yours.
None could save himself in the presence of your narcissus.
It is better no one display piety before your drunken eyes.
Perhaps my slumbering fortune is going to awaken after all.
Since your shining face splashed water on its eyes.
Send a posy from your face by the morning breeze,
So that I may smell a scent from the soil of your garden.
Live long and succeed, O Sâqis of the Feast of Jamshid,
Even though my cup was not filled with wine in your time.
Hafes is saying a prayer. Listen and say Amen:
May that your sugar-pouring ruby be my sustenance.
O zephyr, tell the inhabitants of the city of Yazd,
(May the head of the ingrate be the ball of your polo-stick):
«Even though I am far from you, my spirit is near.
I am the servant of your king and singing your praises.»
O fortunate King of Kings, do me a favor, for God’s sake.
Let me kiss the ground of your palace as the stars do.