1. The estrangement of the one I love has kept me company;

    it has never departed—nor will it depart.

  2. If only forgetfulness were a living thing,

    the lover would not have died from his beloved’s desertion.

  3. Oh, pity the drooping of an eyelid

    whose lashes know no waking sobriety!

  4. The languor of intoxication oppressed it until

    it destroyed it—and intoxication’s aftermath is cruel.

  5. O supple branch that will not bend toward me,

    though bending is lovely in a branch,

  6. you have made me as frail as the breeze with sickness;

    why do you not bend when I begin to blow?

Sol 6.1