Oh Homeland, Don’t You Wonder (Tzion Ha-lo Tishali)
Oh homeland don’t you wonder on your captives,
who call to you, the ones left of your pastures
From seaward to sunrise, tree-line to barrens,
calling from far or close by from all sides
Call of a captive of desire, who sheds tears like dew
on Hermon’s peaks, & longs to let them fall on your mountains
When I wail out your torment I’m a hound, & when I dream
your homecoming has come, I’m strung with your songs
My heart beats to Beth-El & louder at P’niel
& Makhanayim & every point your pure ones touched
Where the holy nearness filled your winds, your maker
opened your windows to the windows of skies
& only God’s glow for your light, no
sun moon or stars to illuminate you
I would let my last breath spill out right where
the divine spirit overflowed your chosen ones
You’re the royal home & the holy seat & how
have servants sat down on your heroes’ thrones?
If only I could wander in the places
God was shown to your envoys & seers
& who will make me wings & I will range
with my heart in pieces between your ragged peaks
I would fall to my face on your ground & thrill
to your stones & feel your sweet dust with my fingers
& then standing on my ancestors’ gravestones,
I’d be stunned in Hevron how your finest are buried there
I would cross your forests & terraces & pause
in awe at the Gilead ridgeline where Moses was buried
His & Aaron’s burial mountains, those two huge
lights shining on you, showing you the way
Living breath—the air of your soil, & myrrh fragrance
the grains your earth, & honey-flow for your rivers
It would soothe my mind to go shoeless, naked
in the waste & ruins that were your shrines
Where your ark was hidden away, where cherubim
stayed in your innermost chambers
I’d shear off my hair grown in devotion, curse the years
in unclean lands that fouled your most devoted
How fine can the food on my plate taste when I see
your young lions dragged along by dogs?
Or how will daylight sweeten my eyes, while
I watch crows carry away their kill of your eagles
Slow now, cup of suffering, ease up, my belly
& soul are swollen with your bitterness
When I remember Jerusalem straying, I drink,
& her fallen sister Samaria, & I drain it
Zion loveliest crown, how you weave love & grace
as of old & your friends’ souls woven through you
Those who smile if you’re at peace & ache
at your desolation & weep for your shattered pieces
From a captive’s pit yearning for you, each
in his place bowing toward the arches of your gates
Your numberless herds driven out & scattered
from mountain to hilltop but your fence-lines not forgotten
Who cling to your fringes & fight to climb
& grasp onto your date palms’ canopies
Could Babylon & Egypt ever match you, their hollow
prayers compare to the gemstones you told truths with?
Who will compare to your nobles & holy men,
your chanters in the temple, singers in the choir?
False-god kingdoms will fall & be gone—your force
is forever, through the generations your jewels
God sought you for a home, & joy to a human who
has chosen, draws closer, to dwell in your courtyards
Joy to one who awaited, arrives, lays eyes
on your light dawning & your sunrises burst upon him
To see your chosen ones thriving, to thrill
in your joy as you return to your long-ago bloom
Translated by Dan Alter
Suggested Reading
Confirmed as Drowned
Haunting verses from the only living male survivor of the Jewish community of Crete.
Intense Listening: The Poetry of Harvey Shapiro
Harvey Shapiro, who grew up in an observant Jewish family, was a connoisseur of distances and silences.
The Poet from Vilna
Avrom Sutzkever and Max Weinreich, a memoir.
Blessing and Rebuke
Orphaned and imprisoned by the Nazis, while never ceasing as a poet, Paul Celan knew what it was to sing “above, O above / the thorn.”
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