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My heart is with your dews, homeland,
At night, above fields of nettles
And to the scent of cypresses and wet thistle
A hidden wing shall I spread out.
Soft sand-cradles are your roads
Spread out…
Behold I have not plowed nor have I planted,
I have not prayed for the rain.
And suddenly, see! My fields have grown
Sun-blessed grain instead of thistle.
Is it the aftergrowth of ancient produce,…
The sunset grew bold: it insisted on staying
In the Red Sea at night, when the innocent pink
Young fawns delicately make their way
Downhill to the palace of water to drink.
They leave their silken…
Shepherds had dug a well in the field
but herds of others encircled it.
They left, roaming the mountain trails,
the shepherds who had dug it.
Oh, oh, oh! Desert oases . . .
the lanes of the herd…
O, if through thy eyes, like through sea waves,
My love could sail like a ship,
Long ago with full sails I would have boldly
Struck to your heart, like to the Holy Land.
If you light up for me in…