Sol 5.6

  1. My resolve, if the sword fails it, blazes fiercely;

    my rain cloud, if the rain withholds itself, pours.

  2. My timid self draws back from every disgrace,

    but once it glimpses glory, it strides forward.

  3. It fills souls and hands whenever

    it is stirred—whether as a torrent of death or of bounty.

  4. Towering above a mountain, my weighty forbearance outweighs it;

    and my fury is a violent gale once resolved.

  5. Praise from me is indeed a coveted prize; to win it,

    men turn their pale camels from the road and spur their aspirations onward.

  6. My vast ocean of excellence and beneficence, when

    a petitioner stirs it, overflows in either of its states.

  7. It lavishes pearls while rich and able,

    without vaunting its favors, and gives even when destitute.

  8. In either state it displays valor and generosity—

    in ash-gray drought and in a garden deep green.

  9. Whenever it encounters seekers of bounty and foes,

    its two hands stream with gifts and blood.

Sol 5.6