Now there’s a cup of pure wine in the rose’s hand, 
the bulbul sings its praises in (or, with) a hundred tongues.

Call for a slim book of verse and head for the open air.
What time is this for madrasa, studying kashf (revelation) and Kashshāf (Qur’ān commentary)?

Cut yourself off from people. Learn from the ‘Anqā (a phoenix-like bird whose home is in the remote mountain chain of Qāf) what to do:
hermits are renowned from Mount Qāf to Mount Qāf (from one side of the world to the other).

Yesterday the madrasa jurist was drunk and gave this ruling:
wine’s unlawful – but better than consuming waqf (charitable trust) assets.

Dregs or pure wine?  The choice is not yours — but drink on!
All our Cupbearer (here meaning God) does is the essence of kindness.

The gabble of the pretentious, the vain thoughts of sycophants –
it’s all the same story of gold-embroiderers (or, ʻgold-grabbersʼ: zar-dūz) and basket-weavers (būriyā-bāf: cf. riyā, ostentation).

Hold your peace, Ḥāfiẓ. And these fine points [pure] as red gold –
hold onto them: the town banker is the town forger!