1. Woeful heart amidst melodious warblers,
and woeful cupbearer with arms bound in chains,

2. woeful my soul, oh my woeful soul,
have you not yet broke free from the snares of passion?

3. And woeful my eye, oh my tearful eye,
neither kohl nor medicine soothes you again.

4. Leave me to blame my soul on this day,
for it is held hostage, a pledge buried amidst spears.

5. Leave me to blame it with drink, for I see
no gain in what little life remains me.