Sol 6.1

  1. Between you and me, a thousand slanderers caw.

    So why should I prolong my singing and elaborate?

  2. My voice is lost, and you do not feel its echo;

    yet I once knew you to thrill whenever I recited.

  3. I see you amid the crowds, yet do not see

    that cheerfulness sprouting in your features.

  4. Your eye passes over me and hastens away, just as

    a terrified stranger passed by, leaping along.

  5. ..

    Between you and me, a thousand slanderers lie,

    and you keep listening to them, never calling them liars.

  6. They deceived you, and deceit delighted you; you had never

    before admired perfumed falsehood.

  7. Glory to Him who made hearts storehouses

    for feelings that have not ceased to change.

  8. Tell the slanderers: I have come to raise my banner,

    the white one—so set upon my skin and strike.

  9. I am not skilled at waging these battles.

    Who can fight when the adversary is a fox?

  10. And who can contend when the weapon is intrigue?

    And who can struggle when the enemy is a scorpion?

  11. Manliness refuses to soil its sword;

    the valiant may triumph at the very hour he is defeated.

  12. At dawn, the barren wastes embrace my mounts,

    and a free man flees when he senses weariness.

  13. ..

    And the wilderness is more generous: its bounty does not dwindle

    at times, nor does it heed slanderers and run dry.

  14. .. ..

    And the wilderness is truer than a friend whose affection is

    changeable, shifting in color, wavering.

  15. ...

    I will pour my poems into the winds' ears;

    I hope for no gain, nor seek to earn a living.

  16. And I fashion my epics upon the mirage's lip;

    for with dignity, even a mirage can be drunk.

  17. ...

    Parting draws near—shall I bid farewell in silence,

    or will you listen to reproach, so I may reproach you?

  18. ...

    In vain! Reproach has never revived affection

    being murdered, nor has drawing near warded off rejection.

  19. !

    ...

    My lord! In the heart lies a wound burdened

    with love; longing touches it, and it pours forth.

  20. !

    My lord! Injustice is not beloved,

    yet, since it has pleased you, it is beloved.

  21. Paid-for poems will be recited in your praise;

    for the hungry praise-singers have readied themselves.

  22. The claim of affection roams upon their lips,

    but through their hearts, Ash'ab has roamed.

  23. A pen that is sold and bought is not equal

    to a reed pen that writes with blood from the eye sockets.

  24. ...

    ...

    I am the world's poet; its back has been traversed by

    my poetry, which travels east and west across it.

  25. ...

    I am the poet of the celestial spheres; every little word

    from me blazes upon the twilight of immortality.

Sol 6.1