Sol 5.6

  1. I wished that my life in union with you might last long,

    as long as the day of parting, or the night of estrangement.

  2. I once complained that night was mere dawn, with no evening;

    now I complain it is all evening, with no dawn.

  3. Our nights lengthen and shorten according to the one

    you keep company with in them, though all are equal in span.

  4. You departed, and since then I have not closed my eyes

    in slumber, but only upon a tear that runs.

  5. Love’s anguish after you left has melted my heart.

    Who, when you are gone, will give me a heart of stone?

  6. One such as you is never forgotten; nothing but your memory

    crosses my mind, though you never remember me for all my remembering.

  7. The censor bids me forget, then draws back

    when I say, “Teach me a road to patience.”

  8. If you wish to be disobeyed, though you have the power,

    then command a thing that cannot be done.

Sol 5.6