Sol 5.6

  1. My friend, be faithful to the lover’s secret.

    Yet every intimate friend is treacherous and faithless.

  2. My friend of wondrous beauty, commerce with you

    is profitable; whoever does not buy is surely cheated.

  3. My friend, love’s emblem upon me is plainly visible,

    but my devil lies in ambush through it.

  4. My friend, over you reason has gone utterly mad;

    is reason, amid passion for you, anything but madness?

  5. Every man has an art when his reason goes mad,

    but my madness in ardent love is many arts.

  6. Sometimes I move, and at other times I am still;

    thus in love I have both movement and stillness.

  7. I never thought that passion would unsettle my soul—

    and who can shake a firmly rooted mountain?

  8. Nor did I think that after gray hair I would swagger,

    while the steed of my youth, O Umaym, remained restive.

  9. I had always possessed a heart that turned away from love,

    disdainful—until a brow of yours gleamed.

  10. Sweat flowed, scattering from that radiant brow,

    as a precious string of pearls scatters.

  11. I wept as the fresh bough weeps, its stature

    bending, though the heart does not soften at it.

  12. No tenderness stirred from him except toward one’s doom:

    he writhed as one slain and fell as one stabbed.

  13. A gazelle—but the lion’s den is his covert;

    when the gazelle is a lion, the covert is a lion’s den.

  14. Though barely adolescent, he holds an aged sheikh’s shrewdness—

    a boy over whom no years have passed.

  15. When the breeze’s first freshness wafts and curls it,

    a lover sighs and a sorrowful one yearns.

  16. Your cheek-down is my letter lām, and your mouth its mīm;

    your eye is my letter ṣād, and your temple-lock is nūn.

  17. Whoever devoted his love wholly to the world—

    your love is a sin to me, and your love is faith.

  18. I never imagined that I would lavish my lifeblood

    while you, miserly, begrudge even a greeting.

  19. Is love anything but a soul and its burning thirst,

    or longing anything but an eye and tear ducts?

  20. By oath, if you do not pour me your saliva as coffee,

    may no right hand ever carry my cup to me.

  21. For what once was in you has already passed,

    and what has not yet been will, after this, come to be.

  22. Sorrow enough—before me lie sorrows over you,

    and my eye, streaming tears, is a multitude of springs.

  23. Who will aid a heart whose declaration is not hidden

    from you, and a body that can scarcely be seen?

  24. A tale-bearer betrayed me while fire plays in my entrails,

    deep within, and the eye’s water pours in torrents.

  25. Even if there were one tale-bearer, I could deal with him;

    but what recourse have I when the tale-bearers number in the hundreds?

gpt-5.6-sol