1. O my lord Isma‘il—following a greeting

    fragrant as upland flowers after a downpour—

  2. my courtyard stands emptied of the moneybag’s silver,

    even as my ruins fill with the silver of snow.

  3. So give, and quickly—may separation’s hand not hasten

    to bear you far from your petitioner like a shawwāl, a porter.

Sol 6.1