O gentle breath of dawn, whisper in the ear of the graceful hind: It is you who have led us into the wilderness and into the open country to wander!

Oh, old craftsman of delights, why do you not seek the lips sweetened by sugary food? A wonder, indeed!

O blossom, does vanity born of your own splendor hinder you? Why do you not even ask about the torments of the nightingale driven mad by love?

Those who are touched by insight are held by good nature and elegance; no simple snare can catch the wise bird.

I wonder why the exalted, with eyes as dark as night and faces like the moon, show no kinship to any soul?

In the moments you share with your Beloved, in the embrace of wine, think of the comrades who are not near you!

Your immaculate beauty lacks nothing, except for one harsh criticism: you do not know love, your heart is fickle!

It would not be surprising if Venus herself, high above, singing Hafiz’s melodies, were to persuade even Jesus to dance.