Translation:
 
Traveller, come! Enter under my leaves for a rest  
where the Sun will not reach you. Come and I promise the best:  
Even with sun at the highest, shooting down on the meadows  
brilliant rays, diffuse them I shall to the softest of shadows.  
Here, right under my crown, wafts gently and cooling a breeze;  
here the starlings and larks all abound and argue with ease.
 
Here the hard-working bees extract from my sweet-smelling flower  
honey that graces the finest of tables at family hour.  
And, without effort, with whispers that come from my deep  
I shall be singing all visitors sweetly to sleep.  
Though in Hesperides Garden none of the apples I bear,  
as the most giving of trees my Lord has planted me there.
 
-Jan Kachanowski, “The Linden”