1. And after him came one slender of waist.

    I fled, only to meet his rebuff.

  2. His face met me, coming forward,

    with the saber’s edge and its watered pattern.

  3. I kept pressing his cheek for its juice,

    and plucking from the yield of his rose.

  4. I breathe in the violets of his temple-locks,

    and a blossom dyed safflower-red upon his cheek.

  5. I thirst, then sip his saliva—

    ah, what fire in my breast from its coolness!

  6. My gaze has nothing before it but his face,

    nor my embrace anything but his form.

Sol 6.1