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This day is our war, my sister,
So I am far away from here.
Please keep our rendez-vous
In our tiny kitchen
Before my usual chair
Fill a glass of wine
And treat it as if I am
Sitting across from…
Shlomo reclines within his shrine
Woe to my days, woe to my nights
Everyone knows how he is
Nobody knows about me
Woe to my days, woe to my nights
As if it means something to anybody.
If I have a…
When spring is asleep it palely awakens
In fields of fire the final battle will cease
And a wonderful morning from valley to hillside
Will rise up in singing and in joy.
The sun will stand still…
Dramatic poem by Angiolo Orvieto Music by Giacomo Orefice
A gush of joy in the pipe,
The pipes, the arteries of the Negev,
This is the course of the song,
From the faucet to the clod
The water of the depths ascends.
A pump means bread!
Negev, Negev, what’s…
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…
Among the dreamy pines
As evening light is slowly dying
And a lonely bell still chimes
So many songs, so many stories
The stony hills recall . . .
Around her heart my city carries
A lonely ancient…
“It was then the morning of the second day of the war in Jerusalem. The horizon paled in the east. We were at the climax of the battle on Ammunition Hill. We’d been fighting there for three hours. A…
The road is long and wide
The road is long and resplendent
We all walk it till the very end
We all walk it until the bitter end
But I walk the road alone
I give thanks and sing Hallelujah
I sing a…
Again the herd throngs the village gateways
and dust rises up from the dirt roads.
And farther still a pair of clappers
keep pace with the lengthening shadows.
Evening descends, evening descends.
A…