Sol 5.6

  1. Stand, and witness my outpoured grief—and my reproacher’s censure

    of me for weeping over the effaced traces of the camp.

  2. Does he think himself safe from the blaze of my sighs’ assault—

    or else from drowning in streaming tears?

  3. Heed his judgment, if he pursues with reproaches everyone

    who mourns his beloved companions.

  4. Here is the grove-dove: its cooing bewails

    my weeping—so let him hasten to blame the doves.

  5. It is nothing but separation that awakens sorrow

    whenever it falls upon people or beasts.

  6. Once alone, my eye was emptied of its sleep;

    when has sleep ever been an inescapable lot for me?

Sol 5.6