My wounded gazelle, I don't lose my heart to anybody else but you
I don't give the rose grown by others, even if you kill me
The heart has burnt out by burning
Blow the ashes about by spinning
Before the henna on hand doesn't cool down
I don't put a string of your lovelock down
Mercy love, mercy love
Oh, patriarch, grant remedy to this sorrow
An arrow fell down, I got hurt
I've found cure by a fellow's hand
I got calumniated on my stringent day
The tounge gets mute if I revile against you