Sol 5.6

  1. O you whose glance bewitches, my night knows no dawn;

    sleeplessness has ravaged my eyelids since you left.

  2. And I cannot tell, though I have pictured your form within

    my yearning heart: are you the sun, or the moon?

  3. God would not have fashioned such beauty in a mortal

    had it been possible for images not to be worshipped.

  4. You are the one at whose sight my eye knew bliss,

    for after that sight, all imaginings were left in misery.

  5. I die of longing, yet you have no mercy for me;

    how often I was wary, but wariness never availed me.

  6. I ask God’s forgiveness—no, by God, they were fashioned—

    your eyes—only so that humankind might perish by them.

Sol 5.6