1. O son of Jundid, you have become perplexed,
Confused between misery and misfortune.

2. O bird of ill omen, hated among the birds,
And of inauspicious rising.

3. Your ill fortune has killed my only soul.
Honor that soul with your own soul.

4. And erase from the world its beauties.
Erase the beauties of the sun like an eclipse.

5. If you have become my executioner, no wonder!
Even silk may be soiled with gypsum.