أَقولُ وَقَد ضاقَت بِأَحزانِها نَفسي

أَلا رُبَّ تَطليقٍ قَريبٍ مِنَ العُرسِ

I say, as my soul grows weary with sorrows,

Alas! Will there be no quick divorce from this marriage?

لَئِن صِرتِ لِلبَقالِ يا شُرُّ زَوجَةً

فَلا عَجَبٌ قَد يَربُضُ الكَلبُ في الشَمسِ

If you become a grocer's wife, O most wicked wife,

It would be no wonder for a dog to lay in the sun!