Sol 6.1

  1. A body lies ill, infected by a languid gaze;

    and love's sickness is painful torment.

  2. How can I hope for a cure from love,

    ever, now that my passion is my creditor?

  3. My reprover, leave me be: your reproach in love

    is folly in my eyes, and your blame is baseness.

  4. How can a heart heal, when its dwelling is occupied

    by Ibrahim, prince of the fair?

  5. A fawn, supple-limbed, pliant

    of stature, with languid eyelids—a gentle gazelle.

  6. Yusuf-like in beauty, sweet of face,

    Babylonian in his glances—a cruel gazelle.

  7. Branch-like in stature—yet where could a branch

    obtain that straight figure of his?

  8. He deems killing me lawful, yet in that is not

    aware that he is guilty of sin.

  9. In him are fire and paradise, and error,

    and guidance, and wretchedness, and bliss.

  10. So delicate is he that, were he to pass in the morning,

    the breeze, as it blew, would surely weaken him.

Sol 6.1