| My People My
Jewish people- Our foe still in ambush lays, |
On the Streets of Tel Aviv A day of such vividness- Blue as childrens' eyes is the sky, And in abbreviated modern dress The youth stroll by. Their speech-so familiar. Yet beyond my ken-- Short skirted, each girlish figure, Its beauty to enhance- Exposing limbs that seem ready to dance. Bright colored garment gives still greater effect To skin, adhering so closely. . Bodies, sculptured and erect, Moving with grace and agility. And the young men- Bearded, hirsuite- Cast glances at each passing maiden With eyes as if darkened by soot. And, indeed, darkly charming Is the youthful, strolling throng, Sunny and beaming, In sheer joy of song. . Like ebullient water, from swollen wells, Their humming, jovial speech. . No proseletyzing of morals. . . Only love confirmed-from each to each.... In uniform, the young man- Proud-eyes ablaze.... Ready to defend the land In which he was raised. At his side Charming, soldier-maid. . . With medals upon breast Of her military dress. On this day, so bright with sun-- The sky so brilliantly blue-- Were I only young again, I'd stroll the streets with you. ************************** |
| On a Boat on the Sea of Kinnereth Bright blue sea of Kinnereth- Where the earth first saw its dawn.... Sanctified is the clearness of your depths.... Upon your silvery billows our ship plies on. The waters, our tiny ship agitating. . . Causing it to rise and fall noisily-- And I become confused in my thinking By the waves: mountainous, foaming, silvery.... My heart shrivels within, In deep-rooted enduring.... And looming upon my vision Is a vista of grieving, of Jewish mourning.... From afar a twig I see. . . Torn by the storm from a tree.... 'Tis evident it had drifted long,- As if to herald our joy-but barely succeeding. . . A long distance the twig was borne- And struggling in the sea- The leaves of the twig all torn Twig and leaves together floating stubbornly- They will come in time! Sea of Kinnereth, brightly blue- I sing my song to you. . . My song of joy-truly blessed- From a heart that hopes and quests For the blessed hour of peace and rest. Sea of Galilee- Wonder of the world's early dawn.... Upon your billows, silvery, Our boat is being borne. . . *********************** |
Ink on Paper What do I derive from it? That constant scribbling on so many a ream, Thoughts, feelings, that always seem To cause my blood to spurt! I hold forth in silent discourse-on paper! "You-so many times a mother- Be still a while, and listen! You've lived your mission to complete. . . Your blooming-your sowing. . . Was all for the good. You gave the world your branching, your growing, Nurtured with Jewish blood. "Why do you ceaselessly sing Of bygone sorrows-of light, now dead? Why-all the dismantling, the dissecting Again and again, the holocaust dread, As if unaware of it so long? Why can't you change your song Of duress and affliction To a melody of love and consolation? "Heal your heart! Rid it of hate, complaint and grief! Prepare for the start Of a better life! And for our children's children assure A world of peace-planted to forever endure! "Hear the new land's voice! Erase hatred of diaspora-years bleak.... Stretch out your hand of peace And seek That youthful generation Which gave birth to a new life- To a new nation!" ******************** |