Sol 5.6

  1. My eyes have dimmed, so I cannot see what

    was penned upon pages, nor anything beautiful.

  2. Yet my sight had been my companion;

    now I lack its comfort—and sleep as well.

  3. How long I wore out my gaze in youth’s pursuit,

    young as I was, letting its bridle hang loose;

  4. I drew close that figure, a swaying branch,

    and sipped saliva—sweet, though it had grown stale.

  5. I made love for a slender gazelle my binding law,

    and honed my passion on him as on a whetstone:

  6. a young son of the Turks, gracious in—

    character, tender, handsome of form and tender in age.

  7. Long ago, I was a lover among the Arabs;

    and today, in older age, I am in love.

  8. Whenever I asked him, “Who is this that

    has become so wildly enamored of you?” he said, “Sen”—“you.”

  9. That has passed, and nothing now remains to me

    but thought and an eloquent tongue.

  10. What pleasure can there be for a man who remains carefree

    when his two temples—and he himself—have aged?

Sol 5.6