1. Delight in the breaths of late morning and late afternoons,

    And hurry along the wine-cups, crimson-robed;

  2. And in the pavilion of a lovely garden, as though it

    Showed us the finest dwellings in Paradise;

  3. And in a stream of ceaseless waves, its heart in turmoil,

    As though its heart had been gashed by boulders.

  4. The wave's shadow yawned upon its surfaces,

    Then sprinkled over it some of the kohl-pots' harvest.

  5. And the golden ones have the pallor of lovers,

    Over whom, within their wasted bodies, loomed

  6. Thunderbolts from love's touch—like a lover

    Who falls stricken at the reproaching women's words.

  7. When the clouds run dry, their downpour is rivaled in bounty

    By a scattering of pearls from streaming eyelids.

  8. As though the teardrops falling from them were the tears of the

    Lover, flowing in grief to bid farewell to one departing;

  9. And in a singer's melody: the soul dances—whenever

    He sings—within our limbs and joints.

  10. Answering the lute's voice amid the spreading trees, when it sings,

    On the bān trees' tender branch-tips, is the nightingales' voice.

Sol 6.1