1. O one whose fingers are like the flowing clouds,
Yet his deeds are ever shameful and disgraceful,

2. Do you not see how the snow has clothed his fingers,
In a garment that covers the world with buttons?

3. A fire yet not one that gives light,
A light and water yet not flowing,

4. The wind has left us destitute this morning,
Selling even a dinar's weight for a dinar,

5. So bring us any wind that can be for us,
A fire, for we have no wind or fire.