1. Always we hide our sorrow, always
And why do we retain our tears, why?

2. What's within me has grown severe
And increased, spreading disease, alas

3. The mother of children has fallen ill
We fear and worry it may be her end

4. Oh Lord, grant me her life lengthened
And heal through her the widows and orphans

5. And heal through her the stranger in her land
Who has parted from kin and family

6. How many yearners and devouts in need
Were protected by her presence, preserved

7. By the presence of Praiseworthy Zainab
Whose speech is beyond all glorifying