1. But for the water’s longing for your palm, never would

    the heart of dew, estranged from the clouds, descend.

  2. Indeed, you scattered its likenesses upon the air—

    this one mild and pure, and that one sweetly flowing.

  3. As though our companies, all golden,

    were pelted with cascading arrows of silver,

  4. a cloud above every pair of forelocks,

    or a stream between every two of us.

  5. You poured out even the water of my face—my honor; indeed it

    will be exchanged for nothing but rose-water.

  6. So leave us the bloom of youth, and do not spill

    the water of the swords: it is lovelier within them.

Sol 6.1