1. Enough anger, O Orzayl, and cruelty

    toward a lover whose heart has melted with passion.

  2. No captive, fettered in his chains, his neck drawn forth

    beneath a tyrant’s sword that only grew fiercer whenever mercy was begged,

  3. is more wretched than I when I come before you complaining,

    only to find arrogance and rebuff.

  4. Nothing pains me but the memory of my pride

    and of my might—which, had it struck a mountain, would have brought it down.

  5. May all the sovereignty I squandered be your ransom:

    it will return and endure the day you consent to take me as your slave.

Sol 6.1