1. Take pity on him, if you are his master,

    and have mercy—for you have made his enemies gloat.

  2. Woe to him if this condition persists within him,

    from searing pangs that convulse his innards.

  3. O bough of the bān tree, supple in form,

    atop a sandhill, its crown swaying—

  4. you have denied my eyes the sweetness of sleep;

    be kind, as God has made you beautiful.

Sol 5.6