Classic Poem

I gaze and weep, mother of my boy,
I say alas and woe is me wretched
What will become of wretched me,
I have seen my golden son dead!

They seized that fragrant rose
Of my breast, and my soul fainted away,
They let my beautiful golden dove
Fly away, and my heart was wounded.

That falcon death seized
My dear and sweet-voiced turtle-dove and wounded me.
They took my sweet-toned little lark,
And flew away through the skies!

Before my eyes they sent the hail
On my flowering green pomegranate,
That my rosy apple on the tree,
Which gave fragrance among the leaves.

They shook my flourishing beautiful almondtree
And left me without fruit;
By beating it they threw it on the ground
And trod it under foot with the earth of the grave.

What will become of wretched me!
Many sorrows surrounded me.
O my God, receive the soul of my little one
And place him at rest in the bright heaven!