1. They wronged you, son of the preacher
They wronged by burdening your generous hands

2. You are too noble that you be hoped
For free man or that comfort comes out of you

3. You inclined towards the villainy of villains
Who have in people the most blemished reputations

4. A tribe whose killing cannot be avenged
And wounds are not grievous wounds for them

5. And a mother who was not protected by a protector
So your father copulated with her freely

6. She gave birth to you, the heaviest in spirit
And the most stingy of what his comfort possessed