In the garden at dawn I sought for a rose
when nightingale's voice broke the peace with her prose.

Like me, she was mad for love of a flower
and woke up the garden by trilling her woes.

I strolled round the garden moment by moment,
eyeing songbird's affair with flower she chose.

Sweet flower did swoon while the nightingale wooed;
this one's yet to age, that one's caught in love's throes.

As nightingale's song penetrated my heart,
it erased all desires my mind could compose.

In garden where so many roses abound,
to pick even one is to learn where thorn grows.

Hafez, seek no comfort from life's wheel turning,
for its one thousand squeaks create no repose.