Call for her mother
Who is within the earth entombed
To come and see her daughter
As a bride adorned.
And pluck some basil, place it on her to scent her,
For she hasn't got her mother to water it for her.
To hell with exiled living, no matter what advantages it has;
And (to think) our dad gave you away, the only daughter he has.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem