For him who hath solitude chosen, Of pleasance and gain what need is?
For who hath the street of the Loved One, Of meadow and plain what need is?

O soul, by the need which thou feelest Of God the most High, I conjure thee,
Bethink thee a moment and question, For us, the love-slain, what need is.

Sore, sore is our need; but, for asking Of favours, no tongue can we muster:
Indeed, in the Bountiful's presence, For asking in vain what need is?

No need is of talk or pretention, If 'tis at our life that thou aimest;
Of plunder and pillage, when chattels Are thine and domain, what need is?

The luminous heart of the Friend is The world-showing cup of the legend;
What need, then, one's need of expounding? I say it again, what need is?

Time was when I wont to put up with The chiding and flouts of the sailors;
But now that the pearls have been gotten, For sailing the main what need is?

The life-giving lip of the Loved One Thy fated allowance foreknoweth;
For wearisome asking and craving, O beggarly swain, what need is?

We're burning, o monarch of beauty! At least, for God's sake, we implore thee
Thou ask, for the beggar, who pineth In passion and pain, what need is?

A vaunt and begone, o pretender! With thee I have nothing in common:
When loved ones are present, of foemen, Affection who feign, what need is?

Come, Hafiz; a truce to this piating! For worth of itself is apparent:
Indeed, of dispute and contention With rivals profane what need is?