1. A day of drizzle, its veils scented with musk;

    Joy laughs in it, close at hand.

  2. And a gathering whose curtains have been lowered

    Over suns of splendor and noble lineage.

  3. And our wine’s steeds have run at a trot

    In their running—or have been minded to trot.

  4. And our fire has blazed up, so its sight

    Leaves you needing no other wondrous sight.

  5. When it flings out sparks, and stream

    Over its crests the lances of flame,

  6. You see a latticed ruby,

    From which fly filings of gold.

  7. The cup circled it, filled to the brim,

    Its two cheeks whitened with bubbles.

  8. So go to the gathering where smile

    The gardens of beauty and refinement.

Sol 6.1