Sol 5.6

  1. To the beloved, union with whom—

    another than we has won;

  2. while we have won from him nothing

    but his rebuff and coy reserve;

  3. and among those who learned aloofness from him was—

    the phantom of his image.

  4. If only you would taste my misery

    born of passion and of bearing it;

  5. perhaps you would learn what I have

    known of its terrors;

  6. perhaps you would lie sleepless—may I ransom

    you—for one of its long nights.

  7. Yet I see you happy;

    leave the wretched one alone in his plight.

Sol 5.6