1. Oh, how my soul yearns for the partridge in sorrow
How did death in its wings gain triumph

2. It was like the arrow of fate’s deadly aim in hunting
And the wind in a gust and lightning if it flashed

3. When death saw her while she hunted
It was jealous until with her it betrayed

4. Oh, if only the treacherous hunter did not weave his snare
And if only from the chicks of birds she was spared

5. He showed betrayal to his mistress so he destroyed her
For he is the father of the unjust and she by him was wronged

6. In the ravine of Jenin when she met her fate
She fell and for so long with hunting she ravaged