Sol 5.6

  1. My fingers, where you are concerned, are like Yahya ibn Talib;

    and scant indeed is the profit from the tamarisk they have carved.

  2. O bounteous rain, whose guest is the earth,

    it is served blossoms for its morning draught, and downpour for its evening draught.

  3. The full moon begs only from your countenance,

    and the rain takes dictation only from your right hand.

  4. Where, then, is the goodwill you showed toward me,

    and where is the bounty you commanded for me?

  5. Suppose your bond were the very cord of the jugular—how often

    has a man cast it off from himself with a cord-severing blade!

  6. I prayed that you be exalted until my prayer was answered;

    thus—may God perpetuate your glory—my abasement endured.

  7. I return to a home without sufficient means,

    and ride from my home to you with no errand at all.

Sol 5.6