Io! Io! Tamuz!
The Dryad staiids in my court-yard
With plaintive, querulous crying.
(Tamuz. Io! Tamuz!)
Oh, no, she is not crying: 'Tamuz.'
She says, 'May my poems be printed this week?
The god Pan is afraid to ask you,
May my poems be printed this week?'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this lines its wonderful .