1. O my two friends, desertion is not the way of a people

    upon whose hopes I built the edifice of my hopes.

  2. And I entrusted them with my secret, which before them

    lay buried, as though I had been that carefree youth.

  3. And I shared with them life’s delight, which

    passed like a dream across the page of memory.

  4. Here I drink the cup in which sorrow has mingled

    its choicest wine with tears that betrayed my state.

  5. I willingly yearn for pain—for only

    those like me in love yearn for pain.

Sol 5.6