Sol 5.6

  1. . .

    Your hand, which alighted upon my shoulder,

    like a dove, descended to drink,

  2. is worth a thousand kingdoms to me.

    Oh, if only it would stay and never leave.

  3. . .

    That precious ingot—how could I refuse it?

    Who would refuse to dwell upon a planet?

  4. Imagination panted over its smoothness

    and collapsed beside its gilded bracelet.

  5. The sun lies sleeping on my shoulder;

    I kissed it a thousand times and did not tire.

  6. . .

    . .

    A silken river—and a fan,

    Chinese—and a poem being written.

  7. . .

    ..

    Your smooth hand—how can I persuade it

    that I... that I am enamored of it?

  8. . .

    Tell it to continue on its journey;

    for it may have all—all that it desires.

  9. . .

    Your little hand—a star that fled.

    What can I say to a star at play?

  10. ..

    .. ؟

    I lie awake—and with me, a woman’s hand,

    white... What could be more delectable, what could be sweeter?

Sol 5.6