Sol 5.6

  1. The freshness of these calamities is hostage to decay;

    and every tear that grief spills flows limpid.

  2. Why, then, turn away from the cup of consolation, when

    you cannot escape the cupbearer's giving it to you to drink?

  3. If my tears could restore him, we would lavish tears; and if

    they ran dry, we would lavish eyelids and eyes.

  4. Who does not dread the assaults of calamity—and whom

    have you seen saved from them by the extremity of his fear?

  5. Mountains of calamity keep crashing down among us,

    and we fend them off with mere bodies and life's last flickers.

  6. No creature ever spends a night secure from affliction,

    even if he spends it under covenant and solemn pledge.

  7. Was raising my gaze toward the Days

    anything but lowering my eyes and bowing my head?

  8. Though today I am bereft of the precious treasure,

    Time has passed over the finest of my treasures, sparing it to me.

  9. Consolation fails me for the one departed; yet I am drawn

    toward consolation by my certainty that he is the one who remains.

  10. When the rainclouds withhold everything, you race ahead;

    you outstrip them in bounty, ever racing the rain.

  11. O most perfect of men in form and character,

    when my threadbare clothes became the opposite of tatters.

  12. Live unharmed, and spend the longest of lifetimes—

    one too vast for any trace of spending to appear upon it.

  13. If glory could shield any mortal from sorrow,

    a guardian born of your glory would have preserved you for us.

Sol 5.6