Sol 5.6

  1. The donkey went off, leaving his tether on the peg;

    and not one among the people saw any trace of him.

  2. Am I, then, to ride a peg after him,

    or will his tether suffice me, though made of twisted palm fiber?

  3. Or how shall I enter a house that once was my dwelling,

    where I accorded him, in my own eyes, the station of a son?

  4. I nurtured him with my own hand like a child, out of tenderness;

    like a child, out of tenderness, I nurtured him with my own hand.

  5. I fed him barley with nothing mixed into it—

    neither diamond nor gold—for fear he might lose his teeth.

  6. His braying would wake me whenever

    I sank heavily into sleep—a melodious, warbling voice.

  7. How often he turned me away from a narrow pass when he saw

    those around the camels wetting the earth with foam;

  8. and bore me down a road whose verge had been sprinkled

    by the fair wedding throng with rosewater, while it was still dewy.

  9. How often he ran spiritedly when, far away, there appeared

    a sheltered maiden’s bridal train, though the way to her stretched far.

  10. And when he made out a funeral bier, he would not

    pass it, however painfully the goad pricked his withers.

  11. Not for a day did he cease taking stock of his manger,

    whether it stood in a verdant garden or on barren ground.

  12. He never complained of a prick, nor did

    his legs weaken from crossing rough ground, however prolonged or renewed.

  13. May both hands of whoever went off with him be palsied—he abandoned me

    to walk and bog down in the mire of this land.

  14. Does he know that, since his departure, I am distraught,

    and that separation from him is a fire upon my heart?

  15. And that today the crier’s voice shouts:

    “Put on your packsaddle in the cover of darkness, and return!

  16. Let not the comfort you find deceive you

    with the thief, my rival for you out of envy;

  17. this comfort will last only until a time you know—

    he has never remained a month on either thoroughbred or sturdy steed.

  18. May every donkey ransom you—one that bolted in wantonness,

    or blanched with weariness, or gave out from exertion;

  19. or one maddened by lust, forever curling back his lip,

    sniffing stale urine dried hard like strips of hide.

  20. Well-fashioned of head and slender-limbed, he never

    balked when I set him to drudgery; nor would one find

  21. a fat rump on him. Indeed, he knows the roads better than

    his master—unless the knotted tether holds him back.

  22. Oh, would that I had a tuft of his tail as a keepsake,

    to gaze upon as one gazes at bashful, sheltered maidens.

Sol 5.6