Weep, weep, Palm tree!
Let your tears brim the gourd
I know with pain you poured
I know your servitude is free
But some throats await and expect
To gulp under a tree in the market.
.
Weep, weep, Palm tree!
Behold the tapper's come
From whence he sold some.
Hope he that more may see
Of the droplets of your tear
Where he gored you with a spear.
.
Weep, weep, Palm tree!
For you the fellows gyrate
Chanting your arduor so great,
Gulping your tears, O poor tree.
For one can not be named a liar
To avow no water is holier.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem