Lovely eastwind, winged messenger,
   Whom love commands to walk,
Remember me with the most beautiful greeting
   To that lovely one, whom you know.
 
Tell her that into the breezes
   My tortured spirit shall dissipate
If she does not hasten to bestow
   That gift, which you know.
 
Ah! to know and to do without
   That which sups with the rapture of Eden,
That gives rise to the deep mourning
   That is perilous, which you know.
 
Yes, of what import are the paradisiacal realms
   That the enraptured one praises
When that meadow of love smiles,
   That delicate one, which you know.
 
I do not desire to be an eagle,
   Who rises up to the sun;
Nightingale Hafez adores
   That rose, whom you know.