1. Between the valleys of anguish and Aqeeq,
There is no path leading to Salwa for me.

2. My soul picked the nectar from its flowers,
Sweetly bent and delicate branches.

3. Woe to me from its coldness that burns me!
I complain to the Punisher about its blaze.

4. If its cheek were not a heavenly garden,
It would not have grown those elegant apples.

5. And I wonder what it does to me in love -
What enemies do, and it is the friend!

6. My soul is ransom for the gazelle whose stature
Does what the slender Samharite does.