O how much you suffered
And
The plain remains
Still barren from joy:
At least, great heavens,
Will not you compensate
With a little joy,
A ruddy face, a life,
A breathing gem?
Will you not compensate
Immense heavens great?
For
The plains remains
Still barren from joy:
Still the streams parched
Into the blood red soils
Cracked by thirst
Disappeared.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem