O driver of the water tanker, I am approaching you,
behind a brother who loves me and a weeping mother.
So fill my bucket and the small vessel, perhaps I may
use it to quench the thirst of empty, hollow bellies.
I have spent many nights in a state of thirst,
as if they were the trunks of hollowed-out palm trees.
I have tasted every variety of sorrow,
and the crumbling of all its severed ties.
O driver of the water tanker, why did you not stop?
Did you not hear the wailing of the affectionate mother?
Did you not see their tents, which appear,
despite the circumstances, like firm, immovable mountains?
I have none but the Most Merciful to fulfill my need;
to Him I complain, with my supplication and my hope.