Sol 5.6

  1. Time has assailed me with its vicissitudes:

    some I can bear, while others are crushing.

  2. I have known grievous losses dealt by calamities,

    but none like our grievous loss of the goblet—

  3. vessel of wine and crown of the fingertips,

    bringer of joy near and banisher of sorrow;

  4. a showcase for wine whenever wine clothes it,

    entrusted with wine’s secret, yet disclosing it;

  5. a body made of air, though no shape of air

    can be seen held within a palm.

  6. It gives a person back his likeness;

    take it for a mirror, and it serves you well.

  7. It grows fragrant with the wine’s bouquet,

    until you fancy ambergris has breathed from it.

  8. So delicate that, were it set in one scale-pan

    with nothing in its mate, it would not tip the balance.

  9. When water touches it, it almost

    pours away with the water, so alike are their forms.

  10. It fell from shapely fingers—

    what a wonder that so delicate a thing lay crushed!

  11. Time bereft me of it despite my jealous care;

    for its sake I am Time’s relentless claimant.

  12. As though Time had a discerning eye that chooses,

    deliberately targeting nothing but lovely things.

  13. I turn over what the calamities have left

    of it, while tears stream from my eye.

  14. Longing for it has kindled in me,

    upon my heart, all the fire it could kindle.

  15. Stranger still to me is one Time that bestows,

    and another that strips away those gifts.

  16. May you not be gone! How many an inmost breast

    lies wounded for you, how many a heart lies sore.

  17. After you, the rite of evening wine will torment me,

    and without you the haunts of morning wine will stand desolate.

Sol 5.6