Into the mirror of my cup the reflection of your glorious face fell
And from the gentle laughter of love, into a drunken state of longing I fell
Struck with wonder by the beauty of the picture that within my cup I beheld
The picture of this world of illusion from the reflection of my mind fell
Beneath the sword of grief of love for you
there lies a joy no tongue can tell
For that one who was slain by you
found happiness the instant the axe fell
From the house of prayer into the house of drink I fell not of myself
From eternity it was meant to be you came to me and into drunkenness I fell
From the beginningless beginning beneath the veil your face was hidden well
but upon those with love and wisdom a ray from your most glorious face fell
All this world, reflected wonder, wine and love and song, in which we dwell
Is nothing but a fragment of the one whose reflection into my cup fell
With a loving eye and pure vision
the holy pilgrim saw your face so well
but he whose eye was clouded with thought saw you not
and into earthly desire fell
The holy ones who quote the scripture have seen your face and possess some of your wealth
But heartbroken and destitute, from their midst, into disrepute, Hafiz fell
