1. You think it parting when the laden camels are roused.

    And is there any sign like faces turned away?

  2. Indeed, shunning and wrongful blame, though close

    Their homes may be, are their brisk stride and gentle trot away.

  3. It would have healed me if the ruins of their camps

    Had been made riding camels, and the riding camels ruins.

  4. As though the ash-gray doves were camel-drivers for the tree's boughs,

    To catch up with them—but how can the ben-tree move?

  5. Lo, they are like wine: its finest kindness

    To its drinkers is that their wits depart.

  6. You water your herds, O family of al-Muhayyaʾ,

    While your father's son has burning thirst within his heart.

  7. And I have no need of the clouds' water,

    But the generous giver and the miser are revealed.

  8. Do the people threaten me because my hopes wished

    That we be husbands to some women who loathe their husbands?

  9. They say a glance turned back upon the herd is a raid

    Upon it, and the souls' longings are blood-feuds.

  10. So do not threaten bloodshed to make us desist:

    For everyone felled by passion is slain.

  11. The heart insists on loving her, a woman of ʿĀmir,

    For whom the sword is a tale-bearer and the spearhead a reprover.

  12. The jealous man has made the paths between me and her perilous;

    So we have no messenger but the dream-phantom.

  13. Oh, if only the star lost its way,

    And darkness lived long across both horizons,

  14. As the night of ink has lengthened with me, having no

    Path to the light from the dawn of whiteness.

  15. And the reed-pen shafts lie cast aside,

    Like a sick man writhing in bed.

  16. They crave, upon my palm, even a speckled snake's slough,

    To strut and roam within its folds.

  17. Who can find me a treasurer with a benefaction in hand,

    Who will give of what it has given, and bestow it?

  18. And I seek nothing but ninety fine sheets,

    Whose breadth and length are equal.

  19. Smooth ones, already cast in the mold of wishes,

    Each equal to every other in form.

  20. Writing sheets—if we wished, we could call them sword-blades;

    For neither is anything but gleaming and polished.

  21. When eyes shake hands with them, they are checked

    By a radiance that turns the gaze back, dulled.

  22. And if fingertips tickle them, they laugh aloud:

    Peals of laughter, with a clink in their echoes.

  23. Upon one like her the jealous man casts his cloak,

    And makes her bride-price costly for us, prolonging matters.

  24. But to one loose-jointed in generosity

    We have made our suit; already trains have been drawn behind them.

  25. And the most rewarding lot-arrow is a friend's, whose bucket-rope

    Guarantees our needs among those farthest away.

Sol 6.1