Sol 6

  1. And citron syrup from Sūs,

    Its color glowing like lamps,

  2. Floating from its vessel into a mixture.

    The bees poured upon it all they could pour,

  3. And it rose from their nectar in waves,

    Its surface like pieces of heath wood,

  4. Or like wine that I made an excuse to mix.

    A wide-mouthed vessel, like a lamb, was filled with it,

  5. Free of stains and scratches,

    Pure as ivory or snow,

  6. Turned upon a sturdy weave,

    A precinct where horses take turns at al-Barṭanj.

  7. It is the best thing I seek and hope for,

    What I prepare for undercooked food,

  8. And every food slow to cook,

    And for indigestion that chokes and troubles me.

  9. It overwhelms these, like a driver urging onward,

    Widening a path that has grown narrow for us,

  10. Healing every harm and bringing relief,

    And making mouths fragrant.

  11. Its seller attributed it to al-Ashajj,

    And wrote that name upon it letter by letter.

  12. Pilgrims brought it after the pilgrimage,

    Crossing every open desert and mountain pass,

  13. Until they brought us what we had hoped for.

    Through it I gained my wish and my triumph.

Sol 6