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O driver of the water tanker, I am approaching you,

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behind a brother who loves me and a weeping mother.

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So fill my bucket and the small vessel, perhaps I may

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use it to quench the thirst of empty, hollow bellies.

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I have spent many nights in a state of thirst,

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as if they were the trunks of hollowed-out palm trees.

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I have tasted every variety of sorrow,

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and the crumbling of all its severed ties.

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O driver of the water tanker, why did you not stop?

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Did you not hear the wailing of the affectionate mother?

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Did you not see their tents, which appear,

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despite the circumstances, like firm, immovable mountains?

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I have none but the Most Merciful to fulfill my need;

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to Him I complain, with my supplication and my hope.