Sol 6.1

  1. They treated me at the table to maqtūb,

    Whose taste resembles the loss of a dear companion.

  2. The cup smiles with it, revealing one whose hair is gray

    At the parting, who makes guests weep without striking them.

  3. So when it is tasted, a drop of it sends flowing

    Torrents from eyes and noses.

  4. And whenever it bends and torments the diners,

    They seek relief from it by smelling the loaf.

Sol 6.1