Sol 5.6

  1. Remain, O poetry, my beacon;

    remain, O poetry, my strings.

  2. Wondrous are you, O my poetry—

    O hymn of my lyre.

  3. ؟

    ؟

    How long will you provoke my readers

    with my affirmation and denial?

  4. And you have angered those who once

    regarded poetry as my flute.

  5. Here, then, is a poet reciting

    and cursing some of my ideas;

  6. and here is a reader singing,

    breathing in the fragrance of my flowers.

  7. Thus, O poetry, you embarrass me

    and divulge all my secrets.

Sol 5.6