All hail the sweaty brow
the aching feet we feel
the leeks of Egypt
if we had them now
a mere broth of lentils
to fend off hunger's pangs
the throbbing temple
the calloused feet
the murmuring throng
forward - our eyes are set
we will not see defeat
for honey flows beyond the sand
forget the leeks of Egypt
we're going to the Promised Land.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem