1. And I am smitten by the mole, black upon the chin of her

    who shot the lover’s heart with an arrow from her eyes.

  2. It is nothing but a star that came plummeting down

    upon the rim of the radiant sun and burned away.

  3. And it is nothing but musk, its fragrance grown sweet;

    at the edge of the sun’s disk it was sprinkled, and there it clung.

Sol 5.6