Dont mock my desert womb
for you are not myself wholly made
lout men from the tomb
here ignored a morning moon to fade
pleading with an olive branch; my pool
but thou still call me a childless fool
The bravest are the weakest
when time turns trials to things of thorns
along the path of tired mine from crest
weeping alone at the corridor of shun
a desire for babies
swifting like a shadow in despair lies
O! God, you are now my only companion
when all friends i love, left me to fate
my music, so modicum on
faith rises indepth to rate
and show the world my holy child
truly from God, all memories of the wild
But, dont hail my fruitful womb
for you left me alone in time of my trial
cunny men like tomb
here moons embrace, mine tender
pleading with an holy branch
but oh, i will forgive you by my sorrowful pen
to make peace reign among your rowdy ranch
a patient strength from mammoth 's den
and my children are now more than ten
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem