1. O you who dwell in the valley,
Along the banks of the Tigris in Baghdad,

2. You have stirred passion within me,
An ecstasy above passion.

3. Your murmuring reminds me
Of the murmuring of the lady of the house,

4. When her likeness comes to mind,
Do not mention my brother al-Hadi.

5. And if she sings with her melody,
It is like the wailing of the bereaved one.

6. With the one full of grievances against Salma,
Now on the right, then on the left.

7. Indeed I have become enamored
With she who dwelt among the steeds.

8. We were wrong, she dwelt
Among the black sheep.

9. Beauty itself has gone astray through her,
And the musk and the bereaved one smell her scent.