Sol 5.6

  1. How long will you prolong your lament, O dove,

    when neither ardent longing has afflicted you nor consuming love?

  2. You spend the night upon the branches, sorrow’s constant companion,

    trading laments with me as though you were distraught with love.

  3. Yet searing anguish has never split a heart of yours,

    nor has love-madness destroyed your very soul.

  4. Had you braved the fire of longing, by evening

    tears would have streamed down your cheeks.

  5. You bear not even a fraction of what I bear—except that I

    am blamed for weeping, while you are not.

  6. For twenty years I have endured separation,

    and one day apart from loved ones is a year.

  7. I yearn for the tents; indeed, my heart

    is held in pledge by those whom the tents once sheltered.

  8. I remember when a balsam tree shaded us,

    east of the protected grounds—may that balsam tree be watered!

  9. Ah, my days when the world was a maiden,

    just as I desired, and my own age was a youth!

  10. Will my bygone nights ever return

    at Huzwā? May the rainclouds water Huzwā.

  11. Nights when I sought nothing but youthful dalliance,

    and had no object of desire but the one I loved;

  12. when in the dark I kept company with the sun of wine,

    and the perfect full moon was one of my boon companions;

  13. when I made merry, the cups radiant,

    with a beauty whose tresses were darkness,

  14. full-figured—had she strolled through gardens,

    the doves would have warbled above her stately form.

  15. Through union with her, ours was a life of bliss,

    but her abandonment is swift death.

  16. O age of youth, when intimacy shone manifest,

    may rain, its cloudbank massed high, water you.

  17. O age of young manhood, upon you from me

    for all time be greetings and peace.

Sol 5.6