IN the midst of my garden Grows a palm-tree; Born in the West, Away from the country of palm-trees. I cried: You are like me, For you resemble me In wandering and peregrination, And the long separation from kith and kin. You also Grew up on a foreign soil; Like me, You are far from the country of your birth. May the fertilizing clouds of morning Water you in exile, May the beneficent rains besought by the poor Never forsake you. |