Sol 6.1

  1. With the water of tears, I planted in my heart a garden

    Of love, by which my breaths are distinguished.

  2. The flint of passion strikes sparks between my ribs,

    Yet no trace appears, and no secret comes to light.

  3. Love for the beloved made me stumble; then I tested it;

    So patience was scarce in it, and union scarcer still.

  4. An increase in the soul's love is a decrease in its body,

    And substance occupying space may be deemed slight.

  5. I claimed to be genuine in my love for you,

    Yet in your view, I speak of love figuratively.

  6. I renounced—but only what is other than you, of necessity;

    For the sight of you is brighter and more protective for the heart.

  7. My time has passed in longing and craving,

    And no ailment is cured, and no promise fulfilled.

  8. I took pride in a beloved, before whose might I humble myself,

    And the antidote to this abasement is that pride.

  9. He turned his face away from me, so I spent the night as though

    Fresh lances were being planted between my ribs.

  10. My rein is in both his hands, in secret and openly;

    So how can I draw away, when my fate lies with him?

Sol 6.1