Your musk-spreading tress makes the violet twist.
Your heart-opening laughter tears the veil of the rosebud.
O my sweet-smelling rose, do not burn your nightingale.
For every night till dawn it sincerely prays for you.
I who used to be vexed [even] by the angels› breathing,
Now tolerate a world of quarreling for the sake of you.
Behold the wealth of love! See how your beggar ,
In his poverty and honor, despises the royal crown!
The kherqa of ascesis and the cup of wine do not match,
But I make all these designs for the sake of your pleasure.
The frenzy of your love‘s wine that moment will go away
When my passionate head has turned into dust at your door.
The throne of my eye is the seat of your image.
I pray that your seat never be without you, my king.
Your face is a pleasant chaman, especially in the spring of beauty
When sweet-spoken Hafes became your song-bird.