جاشَتsurged إِلَيَّtoward me النَفسُthe soul فيon يَومِthe day of الفَزَعterror
جاشَت إِلَيَّ النَفسُ في يَومِ الفَزَع
لاdo not تُكثِريgo on so much ماnot أَناI بَالنِكسِa weakling الوَرَعtimid
لا تُكثِري ما أَنا بَالنِكسِ الوَرَع
My soul surged within me on the day of terror.
My soul surged in me on the day of distress
Do not go on so; I am no timid weakling.
Cease your censure, I'm no saint of modest ways
Sol 6.1