Sol 5.6

  1. O father, lavish in boundless bounty,

    swift to generosity, never slow—

  2. with my very soul I shield you, you who grasp

    glory by its surest handhold.

  3. Are you not that noble champion to whom people cry for aid,

    who, when the people suffer drought, never runs dry?

  4. Why, then, did your cupbearer err just now—or

    did he do it deliberately, without erring?

  5. The mouth of a little flask, even if it poured forth

    for me into my palm, would not let fall a drop.

  6. It seems he mistook me for a suckling infant,

    and so dosed me with wine through a nasal dropper.

  7. Then rebuke an oppressor for his injustice,

    and cast down—may I be your ransom—whoever brings others low.

Sol 5.6