The table is laid with savory meat
With fruits and liquids from the vine
Sorrows are laid waste as our hearts are soaked with wine
We rejoiced and pray for more days as this to come
What then is our rejoicing?
What then is our glorying?
This table, not for meat and drink
Not for flattering or feigned rejoicing
At the banquet table...
On dishes we laid our folly and envy
On cups we pour our pride and strife
We wept sour as they are all laid before us
On that day, at the banquet table,
There we laid them off.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem