i have hope of grace from the excellent friend;
i offended him, and my hope is his forgiveness.
i cried so much that all who passed and saw
my flowing tears, asked “what flood is this”?
i know he will pass over my blame. although
playful spirit, his nature is like an angel.
in your alley, we played with heads like they were balls,
but no one knew what the head, or what the alley, was!
without why or what your curls caught my heart:
whose face can argue with your entangling curls!
it is a lifetime since i caught scent of your curl’s fragrance-
yet that smell of heart’s memory remains ever fresh.
i wonder at vision’s image which has not left
my eye, ‘though each moment is washed away.
hafez, your unkempt state is unfortunate, but
in hope of the friend’s dishevelled curls, beautiful!
