My Drunken Love

To Magian convent came
My love, a bowl in hand;

With wine so drunk and drunk
The drinkers with her grand,
Narcissus-drunken eyes.

Beneath her horse's horseshoe,
The shape of new moon shiny;

So tall her stature, showing
The cypress top so lowly!

O' why should thus I say it,
As being not self-aware?

And why should I say it's not,
As having an eye on her?

My confident heart' candle
Was quenched when she stood round;

Complaining whine then rising
From gazers when she sat down!

If musk and amber fragrant,
They wafted through her tresses;

And woad if bowed, the archer,
It joined her eyebrow's blisses!

O' come back, life of Hafez
May then return, so soon passed, 

Although will never come back
The arrow left the thumb fast!