Sol 5.6

  1. Your bones have decayed, while grief forever renews itself;

    patience runs out, but weeping never does.

  2. O absent one, whose return lies beyond all hope,

    and whose meeting is appointed for the Resurrection.

  3. How fair the grave in which you were laid would have been,

    if only that grave had held your father.

  4. Despair alone consoles me for your loss, not any fortitude of mine.

    Far from it—what fortitude can there be in one so stricken with grief?

Sol 5.6