Translated by Arun T Vijayan
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At dawn's zenith,
a tender palm frond
sways to the tolling
church bells.
In Jerusalem,
olive branches flutter
over wounded children.
Where is the Messiah?
Bombs echo with
wails of sorrow.
In the streets, grief
has spread itself out,
alongside prayers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem