The Might Of Love

Your scented tress makes the violet flower envious
When you laugh, the rose bud of your lips opens

O my rose, sweet of perfume, 
don't break the heart of your nightingale
For through all the night 
he has sung prayers for you with honesty

Behold the glory and authority of love 
It defeats the corner of the royal power
with its humble pride
 
Your image has the king's seat in my eyes
O my king, I pray that this place in my home 
may never be without your image.

Your face is a beautiful meadow in the spring 
of goodness
When a person sweet of words like Hafez 
becomes the bird that sings poems to you