1. Greetings, my tribe is not planting barley
And he dictates analysts to you

2. And above the pasture is set on fire
And the enemies did not sing

3. And they did not roam to the chaste virgin
To Sabla Saawan

4. And the valley of houses did not rain heavily
And civilization did not get ruined

5. To those whose stance, when intending to walk
The meadows are cut for him

6. You say his companion returned to his place, an expert
And he releases the burning

7. Or do you not say he withered on the bed
With him a bowl in the diwan

8. And rejoice, he went out to you with a cane
Or else do you have supplies

9. The one with the hidden pain, his spun wool like a pumpkin
And his wool, a tailored garment