Sol 5.6

  1. Indeed, she who dwells within my heart

    has, with her beauty, robbed me of my senses—

  2. with the tender bough’s lithe grace

    and a young gazelle’s turn of the head.

  3. From her glances she has honed

    a sword whose victim is my heart.

  4. By the spear-shaft of her swaying form, I swear,

    as she moves proudly in silk:

  5. No wine could ever have intoxicated me

    but for you, O eye of the cupbearer.

Sol 5.6