1. My armor asks me, “Are these the arrows?”

    Perhaps they are what the wide eyes have made their likeness.

  2. They loosed arrows into bodies, leaving their wounds there;

    nor are you speaking from a lapse that drives reason out.

  3. If ever you find the sun for me in the darkness of night,

    I shall find you a heart untouched by love’s concerns.

  4. Were it not that all people agree that love is

    ancient, I would say my passion has no precedent.

  5. O driver of the camel-litters, hasten—for they are the—

    —deaths; and one kindness is for killing to earn its reward.

  6. And, O heart, admit what you once denied,

    for the reprover has wearied, and reproach is spent.

  7. The fair-skinned beauties’ appetite for meanness is increased

    by our imagining that their withholding becomes them.

Sol 5.6