If that Shirazi Turk would succeed in winning my heart
I'll give up Samarkand and Bukhara, solely for her Indian mole
Serve remained wine, Saki, cause you can't find in the paradise
Such a place as Ruknabad stream and Musall's gardens
Oh! these gypsies who are sweet and set the city to chaos
They drained heart from patience, as Turks take the pillages
My sweetheart's beauty doesn't need my imperfect love
How a beautiful face is in need of paint and powder and mole?
Talk about minstrels and wine, don't seek universe's secret
That is that, no one solved and will solve this enigma by logic
I knew beforehand from ever-improving charm that Joseph possessed
That love finally would bring Zulaikha out of her innocence
You talked to me badly, God forgive you, you said it well
Bitter answer is proper for that red-colored sugar-sweet lips
My soul, listen to advice, for blissful youths like more
That wise old's advises more than their own sweet lives
Hafez! you told Ghazals and pierced pearls, come sing fine
For your harmony in your poetry, Heaven weds Soraya!
Translation of Hafez's Ghazal No. 3 by Hamed M. Dehongi
