ألم ترقي لصبّ

يكفيه منكِ قُطَيره

Have you not risen to a youth

Have you no pity for a doting lover,

Who is satisfied with a drop from you

For whom a mere droplet from you suffices?

أخافُ إن رمتُ هذا

على يدي منكِ غيره

I fear if I throw this one away

I fear that if I sought this favor,

I will get none other from you

My hand would receive from you something else:

عليكَ أمّكَ نِكها

فإنّها كندُ فيره

I call your mother rare

Damn you, go and fuck your mother,

For she is Kindu Fire

For she is a gross, misshapen hag.