|The nightingale told the tale to|
|the east wind in the morning|
|About what love for rose's face|
|caused him, he was lamenting.|
|Love has caused my heart to|
|bleed for that blooming face:|
|Me, to be cut by that thorn from|
|that rosebed it was causing.|
|I am the servant of whatever that|
|graceful One may command,|
|Who gave freedom without any|
|hypocrisy or any dissembling.|
May the soft breeze of the morning be pleasant to that One,
Who made remedy for grief for those who at night are sitting.
I will never again complain about strangers, because whatever
They have done, it has really always been the Friend's doing.
If I had been hopeful of the King, then it was all my mistake;
If I sought faith from Heartstealer, tyranny was Your making.
In all directions, nightingales because of love were crying out;
While in the middle, I was given joy by the breeze of morning.
It drew back the veil of the rose and the curls of the hyacinth;
It, the tight knot of the coat of the rosebud was unfastening.
Respected ones of city becoming faithful to me who had gained
Perfection of faith and fortune, was Father of Faith's doing.
Please take the happy news into the street of the Winesellers:
That Hafiz, of all austerity and hypocrisy has been repenting.