Alternate versions of the first ghazal in Hafiz's divan

Flooded with their heart's blood are those who wait for the scent
that the dawn wind may spill from her dark, musky curls. 

Stain your prayer mat with wine if the Magus tells you to,
for such a traveller knows the road, and the customs of its stations.

What security is there for us here in her caravanserai
when every moment camel bells cry, "Pack up the loads!"?

The dark night, the fear of waves, the terrifying whirlpool,
how can they know of our state, those who go lightly along the shore?

In the end, my life has drawn me from self-concem to ill-repute.
How long can the secret of our assemblies stay hidden?

Hafiz, if you desire her presence, pay attention.
When you find the one you seek, abandon the world and let it go.

Translator:

Gray, E. (1995).  The Green Sea of Heaven.  Ashland: White Cloud Press.