Sol 5.6

  1. Is his cheek lovelier, or his lips?

    No—both beauties are bewitching.

  2. Every one of his wondrous features

    is a garden for beauty’s arts.

  3. For me, his lips hold goblets,

    and among phantoms, a boon companion.

  4. Whenever I kiss his cheek,

    I imagine the rose blushing.

  5. A thirst his kiss can slake—

    but what slaking is there while he thirsts?

  6. Many a dewdrop spends the night guarding it,

    as though the dew were jealous.

  7. And the rose, when there rises

    from him a fragrant breath, seems drunk.

  8. I fear even to gaze upon him—

    this rose has no body of flesh.

  9. How could his delicate robe fail to wither,

    when it is the field where all eyes roam?

Sol 5.6