Sol 5.6

  1. How wondrous your phantom, when it came to my aid at night—

    does it wrong me by banishing my sleep even as it shows me kindness?

  2. It journeys by night, through the terror of darkness, to a grief-stricken lover

    whom wasting sickness would conceal, were his inner passion not to groan.

  3. I did not forget him, though my wakefulness destroys him,

    and, without bidding farewell, he says, “Do not forget us.”

  4. He brought his lips close, and I exclaimed in wonder:

    “He lied who claimed that a phantom was merely a thing wished for!”

  5. Sleep’s drowsiness had scarcely revealed him before it cleared

    from me against my will; then he bade farewell and turned away.

  6. He offered union, but the brevity of sleep stood in its way;

    then I turned toward it, though long spears barred the way.

  7. Will you pause, that I may voice my pain and thereby cool a heart

    you have inflamed and made your dwelling place?

  8. May my father ransom the one who said, “Arm yourself, against my avoidance,

    with patience—for no slight offense have I committed.”

  9. You spoke my name plainly and exposed yourself, though descriptions

    were not lacking for you, nor were you at a loss for bynames.

  10. I said, “I delighted in mentioning you, and deemed it

    worthier than explicit description, and clearer still.

  11. Perhaps you might hide behind a namesake; but one who describes

    the matchless one in attributes cannot conceal whom he means.”

  12. He said, “Allude to someone else in speaking of us.” I answered,

    “My tongue has grown inarticulate concerning anyone but you.”

Sol 5.6