Mahmoud Darwish, In The Presence of Absence, part XIV.
Context:
Mahmoud Darwish (1941-2008) was born in al-Birwa, in the Galilee, and became a refugee at age seven. He is considered Palestine's national poet. “In the Presence of Absence” (2006) is his self-elegy, a reflection on his life written with the knowledge of his approaching death.
(יב) מִשֶּׁמֵּתוּ נְבִיאִים הָרִאשׁוֹנִים, בָּטְלוּ אוּרִים וְתֻמִּים. מִשֶּׁחָרַב בֵּית הַמִּקְדָּשׁ, בָּטַל הַשָּׁמִיר וְנֹפֶת צוּפִים, וּפָסְקוּ אַנְשֵׁי אֲמָנָה, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (תהלים יב) הוֹשִׁיעָה ה' כִּי גָמַר חָסִיד וְגוֹ'. רַבָּן שִׁמְעוֹן בֶּן גַּמְלִיאֵל אוֹמֵר מִשּׁוּם רַבִּי יְהוֹשֻׁעַ, מִיּוֹם שֶׁחָרַב בֵּית הַמִּקְדָּשׁ, אֵין יוֹם שֶׁאֵין בּוֹ קְלָלָה, וְלֹא יָרַד הַטַּל לִבְרָכָה, וְנִטַּל טַעַם הַפֵּרוֹת. רַבִּי יוֹסֵי אוֹמֵר, אַף נִטַּל שֹׁמֶן הַפֵּרוֹת:
(12) From the time when the early prophets died the Urim VeTummim was nullified. From the time when the Second Temple was destroyed the shamir worm ceased to exist and also the sweetness of the honeycomb, as the verse says with regard to the laws of the Torah: “More to be desired are they than gold, indeed, than much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb” (Psalms 19:11). And men of faith ceased from being among the Jewish people, as it is stated: “Help, Lord, for the pious man is finished; for the faithful fail from among the children of men” (Psalms 12:2). Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel says that Rabbi Yehoshua testified: From the day the Temple was destroyed there is no day that does not include some form of curse. And since then the dew has not descended for blessing, and the taste has been removed from fruit. Rabbi Yosei says: Since then, the fat of fruit has also been removed.
Context:
The Mishnah is a compilation of the Jewish oral religious tradition, compiled in written form in the third century by Judah HaNasi. Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Hananiah lived at the time of the destruction of the second Temple (70 CE), while Rabbi Yose Ben Halafta was of the generation after the temple's destruction. Both lived in the land of Israel under harsh Roman rule.
(יט) אַתָּ֤ה יְהֹוָה֙ לְעוֹלָ֣ם תֵּשֵׁ֔ב כִּסְאֲךָ֖ לְד֥וֹר וָדֽוֹר׃ (כ) לָ֤מָּה לָנֶ֙צַח֙ תִּשְׁכָּחֵ֔נוּ תַּֽעַזְבֵ֖נוּ לְאֹ֥רֶךְ יָמִֽים׃ (כא) הֲשִׁיבֵ֨נוּ יְהֹוָ֤ה ׀ אֵלֶ֙יךָ֙ (ונשוב) [וְֽנָשׁ֔וּבָה] חַדֵּ֥שׁ יָמֵ֖ינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם׃ (כב) כִּ֚י אִם־מָאֹ֣ס מְאַסְתָּ֔נוּ קָצַ֥פְתָּ עָלֵ֖ינוּ עַד־מְאֹֽד׃
השיבנו יהוה אליך ונשובה חדש ימינו כקדם
Behold, and see our disgrace! (2) Our heritage has passed to aliens,
Our homes to strangers. (3) We have become orphans, fatherless;
Our mothers are like widows. (4) We must pay to drink our own water,
Obtain our own kindling at a price. (5) We are hotly pursued;
Exhausted, we are given no rest. (6) We hold out a hand to Egypt;
To Assyria, for our fill of bread. (7) Our fathers sinned and are no more;
And we must bear their guilt. (8) Slaves are ruling over us,
With none to rescue us from them. (9) We get our bread at the peril of our lives,
Because of the sword of the wilderness.-b (10) Our skin glows like an oven,
With the fever of famine. (11) They have ravished women in Zion,
Maidens in the towns of Judah. (12) Princes have been hanged by them;
No respect has been shown to elders. (13) Young men must carry millstones,
And youths stagger under loads of wood. (14) The old men are gone from the gate,
The young men from their music. (15) Gone is the joy of our hearts;
Our dancing is turned into mourning. (16) The crown has fallen from our head;
Woe to us that we have sinned!
(17) Because of this our hearts are sick,
Because of these our eyes are dimmed: (18) Because of Mount Zion, which lies desolate;
Jackals prowl over it.
(19) But You, O LORD, are enthroned forever,
Your throne endures through the ages. (20) Why have You forgotten us utterly,
Forsaken us for all time? (21) Take us back, O LORD, to Yourself,
And let us come back;
Renew our days as of old! (22) For truly, You have rejected us,
Bitterly raged against us.
Take us back, O LORD, to Yourself,
And let us come back;
Renew our days as of old!
Context:
The book of Lamentations was written after the destruction of the First Temple by the Babylonians (586 BCE). Traditionally ascribed to the prophet Jeremiah, it may also represent the voices of multiple Judeans expressing their grief and mourning.
He has to return to shut that window,
it isn’t entirely clear
whether this is what he must do,
things are no longer clear
since he has lost them,
and it seems a hole somewhere within him
has opened up
Closing up the cracks has exhausted him
mending the fences
wiping the glass
cleaning the edges
and watching the dust that seems, since he has lost the things,
to lure his memories into hoax and ruse.
And from here his childhood appears as if it were a trick!
inspecting the doors has fully exhausted him
the window latches
the condition of the plants
and wiping the dust
that has not ceased flowing
into the rooms, on the beds, sheets, pots
and on the picture frames on the walls
Since he has lost them he stays with friends
who become fewer
sleeps in their beds
that become narrower
while the dust gnaws at his memories “there”
…he must return to shut that window
the upper story window which he often forgets
at the end of the stairway that leads to the roof
Since he has lost them
he aimlessly walks
and the day’s small
purposes are also no longer clear.
-- Ghassan
Zaqtan
Context:
Ghassan Zaqtan (1954-) is a Palestinian poet born in Beit Jala and living in Ramallah. His poem about a lost home reflects the broader experience of the lost homes of Palestinian refugees and Palestinians who suffer home demolitions.
My head down, my eyes full of tears,
I stand at the edge of my town.
I stand before you, bent over and alone.
Is this my town?
Am I the only one left of my great tribe,
that once nurtured and caressed us,
like a loving nursemaid?
I break out in a cold sweat.
The skies mourn in fear.
I stand and murmur an embarrassed prayer.
Everything looks strange and pale and cold.
I stand before a mass grave
and shudder.
My people are buried here.
I fall to the ground in despair.
I still see the flaming fire,
the smoke still stifles my breath.
I still hear the sighs and laments
emerging from the earth.
I feel that I walk among shadows,
that spirits are floating around me,
still seeking purification,
even there, in the land of the dead.
Yitzhak Kozuchowicz, Staszow
Context:
Yitzhak Kozuchowicz was from the shtetl town of Staszow in Poland. He survived the Holocaust and came to Israel after the war, living in Or-Yehuda. Three of his poems are collected in the Staszow Yizkor (memorial) book compiled by former Jewish residents of the shtetl in 1962.
The breeze stopped suddenly,
The skies filled with black clouds,
There was no rain,
A piece of that high crescent looked at me,
… it disappeared,
Willows' leaves were withered and crisped over me,
They were yellow,
Branches wanted to cry, but they did not,
They were wood,
The scene was dreary and sullen,
It was late on a Friday in October,
Around me, olive trees were not harvested yet,
I walked miles to arrive this area,
Under the cold and freezing weather,
Under the storms racing into the forests,
… But I had the intention, and I arrived,
My heart was volcanic,
But sometimes trembling like the autumn's leaf,
I stood on a high hill,
A hill overlooking Jerusalem,
And the occupied lands,
But I could see nothing,
It was dark… very dark,
I wanted to see my old home,
My swing,
The broken table in the yard,
My mother's domestics,
And her smell,
My father's planets,
And his smell,
His cart and the strong white mare,
The orange orchard of my grandmother,
Her little walker beside the trees,
And her wheelchair,
The great wall near the golden mosque,
The great bell of the huge church,
The dome of the rock,
The wide hall,
The fountain of prayers,
And Marwanic mosque,
The…
But I woke up,
No one awoke me up,
It was only a dream,
A hard dream,
A simple dream,
A quick one,
I picked up my father old home's key,
It was under my pillow,
I kissed it,
Hugged it,
My tears cried over it,
And said, I missed the people who held you,
I missed the people, who held you.
-- Mohammed Arafat, Gaza.
La Yave de Espanya
Onde esta la yave ke stava in
kashon? (2)
Miz nonus la trusherun kun grande dulor
De su kaza de Espanya, de Espanya.
Shuenyos de Espana. (2)
Onde esta la yave ke stava in kashon?
Miz nonus la trusherun kun grande amor.
Diserun a luz fijus: esto ez il korason
di muestra kaza de Espanya, de Espanyua.
Shuenyos de Espanya. (2)
Onde esta la yave ke stava in kashon?
Miz nonus la trusheron kun grande amor.
La dyeron a luz nyetus a meter a la kashon,
Muestra yave de Espanya, de Espanya.
Shuenyos de Espanya. (2)
La Yave de Espanya / The Key from Spain
Where is the key that was kept in the drawer? (2)
My forefathers brought it with great pain
From their house in Spain, in Spain.
Dreams of Spain. (2)
Where is the key that was kept in the drawer?
My forefathers brought it with great love
They told their sons: this is the heart
of our house in Spain.
Dreams of Spain. (2)
Where is the key that was kept in the drawer?
My forefathers brought it with great love.
They gave it to their grandsons to keep it in the drawer,
Our key from Spain, from Spain.
Dreams of Spain. (2)
Sephardic folk song.
2. Non-Universal Identities of Loss
So memorize this night of hurt by heart. You may well be the narrator, the narrative, and the narrated. Do not forget this narrow winding road that carries you, and that you carry, towards the boisterous unknown, that will cast doubts upon you and your people.
You ask: What is the meaning of “refugee”?
They will say: One who is uprooted from his homeland.
You ask: What is the meaning of “homeland”?
They will say: The house, the mulberry tree, the chicken coop, the beehive, the smell of bread, and the first sky.
You ask: Can a word of eight letters be big enough for all of these, yet too small for us?
Mahmoud Darwish, In the Presence of Absence, part IV
يا وطني
اشلّ بنتي; وحشتي
لغة امي; نسيج ابي
يا وطني المتواضع
يا وطني مضروب الشمس
اضحك معي لآخر كره
قبل ما انا اسافر
اشلّ كل اكالش; اشلّ الجوع
اشلّ قوة جسدي; قلبي المكسور
روحي الهايمه; اشل الكذب
صلاتي الصدق; اياسي المطلق
اشلّ بنتي; وحشتي
لغة امي; نسيج ابي
يا وطني المتواضع
يا وطني مضروب الشمس
اضحك معي لآخر كره
قبل ما انا اسافر
اشلّ كل اكالش; اشلّ الجوع
اشلّ قوة جسدي; قلبي المكسور
الشوكه في رجلي; اللحفه في راسي
اشلّ بيتي
יַא-וַטַנִי (מוֹלַדְתִּי)
אֶקַּח אֶת בִּתִּי; אֶת בְּדִידוּתִי
אֶת שְׂפַת אִמִּי; אֶת רִקְמַת אָבִי
מוֹלַדְתִּי הַצְּנוּעָה,
מוֹלַדְתִּי מֻכַּת הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ
חַיְּכִי אֵלַי בַּפַּעַם הָאַחֲרוֹנָה,
לִפְנֵי שֶׁאֲנִי עוֹזֶבֶת
אֶקַּח אֶת תַּבְשִׁילַיִךְ; אֶקַּח אֶת הָרָעָב
אֶקַּח אֶת חֹסֶן גּוּפִי; אֶת לִבִּי הַשָּׁבוּר
אֶת רוּחִי הַנּוֹדֶדֶת; אֶקַּח אֶת הַכָּזָב
אֶת תְּפִלּוֹתַי הַכֵּנוֹת; אֶת יֵאוּשִׁי הַגָּמוּר
אֶקַּח אֶת בִּתִּי; אֶת בְּדִידוּתִי
אֶת שְׂפַת אִמִּי; אֶת רִקְמַת אָבִי
מוֹלַדְתִּי הַצְּנוּעָה,
מוֹלַדְתִּי מֻכַּת הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ
חַיְּכִי אֵלַי בַּפַּעַם הָאַחֲרוֹנָה,
לִפְנֵי שֶׁאֲנִי עוֹזֶבֶת
אֶקַּח אֶת תַּבְשִׁילַיִךְ; אֶקַּח אֶת הָרָעָב
אֶקַּח אֶת חֹסֶן גּוּפִי; אֶת לִבִּי הַשָּׁבוּר
אֶת הַקּוֹץ בְּכַף רַגְלִי, אֶת הַמִּטְפַּחַת לְרֹאשִׁי
אֶקַּח אֶת בֵּיתִי
Ya Watani
My Homeland
I will take my daughter; my loneliness
My mother’s language; my father’s weaving
My humble homeland
My sun-drenched homeland
Show me your smile for the last time,
Before I leave
I will take your dishes; I will take the hunger
The strength within me; my broken heart
My wandering soul; I will take the falsehood
My sincere prayers; my total despair
I will take my daughter; my loneliness
My mother’s language; my father’s weaving
My humble homeland
My sun-drenched homeland
Show me your smile for the last time,
Before I leave
I will take your dishes; I will take the hunger
The strength within me; my broken heart
The thorn in my heel; the scarf for my head
I will take my home
-- A-Wa
B. Jewish Diaspora and the Complexity of Home
there we sat,
sat and wept,
as we thought of Zion. (2) There on the poplars
we hung up our lyres, (3) for our captors asked us there for songs,
our tormentors, for amusement:
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion.” (4) How can we sing a song of the LORD
on alien soil? (5) If I forget you, O Jerusalem,
let my right hand wither; (6) let my tongue stick to my palate
if I cease to think of you,
if I do not keep Jerusalem in memory
even at my happiest hour.
(7) Remember, O LORD, against the Edomites
the day of Jerusalem’s fall;
how they cried, “Strip her, strip her
to her very foundations!” (8) Fair Babylon, you predator,
a blessing on him who repays you in kind
what you have inflicted on us; (9) a blessing on him who seizes your babies
and dashes them against the rocks!
משיח
איך ווייס טאַטע, משיח וועט קומען פון מיכאַלעשיק,
וועט אויף אַן אייזעלע רײַטן דורך סוויר און דורך סווינציאַן,
דאָרט וואו די הייליקסטע ערד אויף דער וועלט איז פאַראַן.
איך ווייס מאַמע, משיח וועט קומען פון מיכאַלעשיק,
ווײַל אין גן⸗עדן געבליבן איז מיכאַלעשיק
און מיט די וואָרצלען איבערגעקערט ליגט אין הימל סווינציאַן
דאָרט וואו די בענקשאַפט איז ווי גאָט, אָן אַן אָנהייב, אָן אַ ברעג
וועט משיח קומען, אוי, מיכאַלעשיק, אוי סוויר, אוי סווינציאַן.
Messiah
I know, father, Messiah will come from Micháleshik,
Riding a donkey through Svir and Svintsyán,
Where there is the holiest soil in the world.
I know, mother, Messiah will come from Micháleshik,
for Micháleshik stayed in the Garden of Eden,
And with roots upside down, Svintsyán lies in heaven.
Where longing is like God, with no beginning, no end,
Messiah will come, O Micháleshik, O Svir, O Svintsyán.
Menke Katz
هانا ماش هو اليمن
بلاد بر وشعير وعنب وزيت
وتين ورمان وتمر وبيت
ايحين ايوقع لي بيت؟
(ذلحين معش خيمه)
او على الاقل عشه زغيره
(وزد معا اربعه اهالي)
وهانا ابني اهلي
(ان لا يشلوا عليش البنيه)
ادور لي شغله بشقاء
(بالنظافه او بالتراب)
وعاد اتعلم اللغه
(ابعدي لش من حكايتش)
معا الوقت احس محسوبه
(هانا ماش هو اليمن)
ايحين ايوقع لي بيت؟
(ذلحين معش خيمه)
او على الاقل عشه زغيره
(وزد معا اربعه اهالي)
بلاد بر وشعير وعنب وزيت
وتين ورمان وتمر وبيت
جيت الى عندش غريبه
وانتي حسبتيني هائجه
جيت الى عندش هاربه
وحسبتش لي دار الانجاء
הַאנַא מַאשׁ הוּ אַלְיַמַן (פֹּה זֶה לֹא תֵּימָן)
אֶרֶץ חִטָּה, שְׂעוֹרָה, גֶּפֶן וְזַיִת
תְּאֵנָה, רִמּוֹן, תָּמָר וּבַיִת
מָתַי יִהְיֶה לִי בַּיִת?
(יֵשׁ לָךְ אֹהֶל בֵּינְתַיִם)
אוֹ צְרִיף קָטָן לְפָחוֹת
(עִם עוֹד אַרְבַּע מִשְׁפָּחוֹת)
אֶמְצָא עֲבוֹדָה בְּשָׂכָר
(בְּנִקָּיוֹן אוֹ בְּעָפָר)
וְאָקִים פֹּה מִשְׁפָּחָה
(שֶׁלֹּא יִקְחוּ לָךְ אֶת הַיַּלְדָּה)
גַּם אֶלְמַד אֶת הַשָּׂפָה
(הִפָּטְרִי מֵהַמִּבְטָא)
אַרְגִּישׁ שַׁיֶּכֶת עִם הַזְּמַן
(פֹּה זֶה לֹא תֵּימָן)
מָתַי יִהְיֶה לִי בַּיִת?
(יֵשׁ לָךְ אֹהֶל בֵּינְתַיִם)
אוֹ צְרִיף קָטָן לְפָחוֹת
(עִם עוֹד אַרְבַּע מִשְׁפָּחוֹת)
אֶרֶץ חִטָּה, שְׂעוֹרָה, גֶּפֶן וְזַיִת
תְּאֵנָה, רִמּוֹן, תָּמָר וּבַיִת
בָּאתִי אֵלַיִךְ, זָרָה
וְאַתְּ רָאִית בִּי פִּרְאִית
בָּאתִי אֵלַיִךְ, נִמְלֶטֶת
רָאִיתִי בָּךְ מוֹצָא אַחֲרוֹן
Hana Mash Hu Al Yaman
Here is not Yemen
Land of wheat and barley, grape and olive
Fig and pomegranate, date and home
Where will I stake a home?
(You have a tent for now)
Or at least a small shack
(Along with four other families)
And here I will raise a family
(Don’t let them take your daughter)
I’ll find myself a job with an income
(Either in cleaning or working the earth)
And I will learn the language
(Lose the accent)
With time I’ll feel like I belong
(Here is not Yemen)
Where will I stake a home?
(You have a tent for now)
Or at least a small shack
(Along with four other families)
Land of wheat and barley, grape and olive
Fig and pomegranate, date and home
I came to you a stranger
You saw me as primitive
I came to you fleeing
I saw you as a last resort
-- A-Wa
The Spring of the Young, Yiddish anthology
Poetic Justice, Ha'aretz 2005, describing poetry from Gush Katif
We passed by the home of the beloved
But were turned back by the enemy’s law and the enemy’s wall
I said to myself
Perhaps it’s a blessing
What will you see in Jerusalem when you visit?
You’ll see everything you cannot bear
When her houses start appearing at the side of the road
On meeting the beloved, not every soul rejoices
Nor does every absence harm
If the joy of meeting ends in parting
How dangerous then is that very joy
For once your eyes have seen Jerusalem
You’ll see only her, wherever you look
In Jerusalem
A greengrocer from Georgia, bored with his wife
Thinks of going on holiday or painting his house
In Jerusalem
A Torah–
And a middle-aged man from upper Manhattan
Arrives to teach young Polish men how to read it
In Jerusalem
A policeman from Ethiopia seals off a street in the market
A machine gun hangs from the shoulder of a teenage settler
A hat bows to the Wailing Wall
Blond tourists who don’t see Jerusalem at all
Take photos of each other
Beside a woman who sells mint on the streets every day
In Jerusalem there are walls of basil
In Jerusalem there are barricades of concrete
In Jerusalem, jackboot soldiers march on clouds
In Jerusalem, we pray on the asphalt
In Jerusalem there’s whoever’s in Jerusalem
Except for you
And History turned to me, smiling:
“Did you really think your eye
Could miss all these
And see the others?
Here they are before you
They are the text
While you’re a footnote or a margin
You thought, my son, a visit could draw from the face of the city
The thick veil of her present
So that you might see there what you wish?
Everyone is in Jerusalem
Except for you
And she is the deer in the distance
You’ve raced in pursuit of her
Since she offered her farewell glance
Go gentle on yourself – I see you fading”
In Jerusalem there’s whoever’s in Jerusalem
Except for you
But History, wait–
For the city has two timelines
One, foreign, complacent, steady-paced
As though sleepwalking
Another that lies in wait
Masked, cautious, silent
And Jerusalem knows herself
Ask the people there, everyone will tell you
Everything in the city has a tongue which, when you ask, will speak;
In Jerusalem the crescent moon curls tight as a fetus
Curving over its likenesses on the domes;
Through the years they’ve become like a father and his sons
In Jerusalem there are buildings whose stones are quoted from Bible and Quran
In Jerusalem beauty is octagonal and blue
Supporting, gentle listener, a golden dome
That looks like, I think, a convex mirror
Containing the sky, playing with it, pulling it close
Distributing the sky, like aid in a siege
To the deserving
As the people, after the Friday sermon
Reach their hands to receive it
In Jerusalem, the sky gives herself out to the people
She protects us
We protect her
For we would carry her on our shoulders
If times were to be hard on her moons
In Jerusalem, dark marble columns rise
As though their veins were smoke
Windows, high in church and mosque,
Hold morning’s hand, showing him how to paint with color
He says, “like this”
The winds say, no–
Like that–
Until they compromise
Morning is free to paint outside the threshold, but
To enter through God’s Windows
He must abide by their rules
In Jerusalem there’s a school build by a Mamluke
Who came from beyond the river,
Was sold at a slave market in Isfahan
To a merchant from Baghdad, who traveled to Aleppo
Gave the Mamluke to Aleppo’s prince
Fearing the business in the Mamluke’s left eye –
The Prince passed him along to a caravan heading for Egypt
Where soon, he became Conqueror of the Moghuls
And Sovereign Sultan
In Jerusalem there’s a scent
That summarizes Babel and India in an herbalist’s shop
At Khan Al-Zayt!
I swear, a scent with a language you’ll understand
It you listen;
It says to me–
When they pitch their gas canisters at me
‘Ignore them’
And when the gas has gone
That scent fills the air again, and says
‘You see?’
In Jerusalem, contradictions take their rest
And miracles are not strange
People touch them like bits of fabric old and new
Miracles here are handled, put to use
In Jerusalem if you shake hands with an old man
Or touch a building
You’ll find etched on you palm a poem, my friend
Or two
In Jerusalem, despite the many disasters
There is an air of innocence
A breeze of childhood
A pigeon flying aloft
Declares independence in the wind between two bullets
In Jerusalem, rows of graves are lines of the city’s history
Her dust the book
Everyone has passed through
For Jerusalem welcome the faithful and the faithless
Walk through
Read her tombstones in every nation’s language
Here lie the Africans and the Franks
The Kipceks and the Slavs and the Bosniaks
The Tartars and the Turks
The people of God and of Destruction
The poor and the rich
The debauched and the ascetic
Here lies everyone who's ever trod the earth
Scribe of History, why have you excluded us?
Has the city
Suddenly become
Too small?
Old man, re-write and think again
The eye closes, then looks once more
The driver of the yellow car turns north, away from the gates
And now Jerusalem is behind us
I see her in the right rear-view mirror
Her colors change in the sun and disappear
Well into tears
A smile surprises me
And says:
“Oh you who weep behind the wall, are you a fool?
Have you lost your mind?!
Let your eye not weep, you who’ve been dropped from the text
Let your eye not week, young Arab, and know
That in Jerusalem there’s whoever’s in Jerusalem
But, in Jerusalem
I see non-one except for you”
– Tamim Al-Barghouti; Translated by Radwa Ashour and Ahdaf Souief
Passover on Caves
One day to the land,
deeper than Phalasteen,
than “Palestina, hoch hoch,”
than Canaan-fellaheen.
One day to the land,
filling the urns.
And hard she is and reddening,
hot she is and tendons.
She doesn’t tell her nakedness
to riders on loins.
And she doesn’t tell to riders
on white she-asses;
and on those who were crushed to hard labor
with the ringing of caravans,
on those who stood in the wild
like brother and sister.
Will that one not ask about his fallah.
That one will always look for the wretched.
It was here the hand of his angel.
That one’s hand like the hand of a king.
And that one stupefies a camel’s hump on him
and he rewards hard work on the mess...
Whatever it is that carries the mess—
it is the desire of some Besht...
That we arrived at the shore on Gianicolo
and an Arab sailor set us on the threshold
his arms extended, he has slight of voice and the hands—
from my father’s house...
And we arrived, and to a land childless,
and the land has no mother here, no matter what,
and Fatima says: “Come quick, my child,
say to her ‘Mommy.’”
And I say: “I have a dinar my mother gave me for my city’s poor,
but I’m hungry, because I’ve become poor.” And I say—
and she put down her pitcher: “Drink my child, keep the dinar”...
“I changed the gold coin, my father of all the khans!
With my mother’s dinar I bought berginehs.
I walked here among the wadis, sand, and Ramat-Gans.
With my mother’s money I bought sardinehs.
They gave us life, the sardinehs! Which one of you swallowed the dinar?
From sardinehs who makes a doll?!
Jaffa and her fishermen!—There is no other net but hers.
In the morning and they ate, the dinar in them.
My abhuna, look at the eldest of the khans.
You chose me eldest poor there is no other like him.
Look at my deeds—good for how is it different?
And I bought your name to serve you greatly.”
Our father’s face was here . . .
Then we were still sons...
Now our father is in hiding
how shall we receive a face?
Will you ask about [the fate of ] your people—his angel—
and he is the wretched of Phalasteen,
he went to his cave,
to the Pelethite . . .
And about that and about his way
and everything he did in caves—
surely, Jacob’s rose,
ask the thorns
ask here in the breaches
about the beggar of shoe soles,
about the grouping of the kibbutzim
and about the ingathering of the exiles;
and ask about the miracle—
of the Lovers-of-Zion Movement
[ask] the Arabs of the miracle
who fled as a joke;
and ask me—
the judgment is based on two:
I feel sorry for my children
and I’m sorry about judgment and judgment;
and ask about the miracle—
of Lovers-of-Talking Movement
about the Arabs of the miracle
“who buried the joke.”
Buried—until the awakening of the urn filled with coins
which will ring in due course days, years, centuries...
Until that one will stand still
and turn back in the middle of night—
and a land-bride
is roaring first day . . .
In your valleys, rose of,
if only the fellaheen had a rose;
who is [a] rose—if only in order to avoid
overstepping on caves...
Fellaheen-Bedouins, the Patriarchs,
like the generation of the wilderness to the generation who inherited
have ordered us to bake pita
we shall put their bread in the [chewing] fire.
And father-mother from looting
fire-of-God from taking
have commanded us not to forget Yahndes
and not to forget Poylin.
The land is good-for-nothing
both Abraham and Ibrahim—
the lad struggled with him
and Sara is of the Egyptians...
And the land, the land,
devouring the urns.
hot she is and reddening—
and tendons to Tellers.
Hot she is and reddening
like the opening of a woman giving birth
the land is filled with earth
and not destined.
-- by Avot Yeshurun (a poem about the Nakba and the Holocaust)
עס ברענט
ס'ברענט! ברידערלעך, ס'ברענט!
אױ, אונדזער אָרעם שטעטל נעבעך ברענט!
בײזע װינטן מיט ירגזון
רײַטן, ברעכן און צעבלאָזן
שטאַרקער נאָך די װילדע פֿלאַמען,
אַלץ אַרום שױן ברענט.
און איר שטײט און קוקט אַזױ זיך
מיט פֿאַרלײגטע הענט,
און איר שטײט און קוקט אַזױ זיך –
אונדזער שטעטל ברענט!
ס'ברענט! ברידערלעך, ס'ברענט!
אױ, אונדזער אָרעם שטעטל נעבעך ברענט!
ס'האָבן שוין די פֿײַערצונגען
דאָס גאַנצע שטעטל אײַנגעשלונגען –
און די בײזע װינטן הוזשען,
אַלץ אַרום שױן ברענט!
און איר שטײט און קוקט אַזױ זיך...
ס'ברענט! ברידערלעך, ס'ברענט!
אױ, עס קען חלילה קומען דער מאָמענט,
אונדזער שטאָט מיט אונדז צוזאַמען
זאָל אױף אַש אַװעק אין פֿלאַמען,
בלײַבן זאָל – װי נאָך אַ שלאַכט,
נאָר פּוסטע, שװאַרצע װענט.
און איר שטײט און קוקט אַזױ זיך...
ס'ברענט! ברידערלעך, ס'ברענט!
די הילף איז נאָר אין אײַך אַלײן געװענדט,
אױב דאָס שטעטל איז אײַך טײַער,
נעמט די כּלים, לעשט דאָס פֿײַער,
לעשט מיט אײַער אײגן בלוט,
באַװײַזט, אַז איר דאָס קענט.
שטייט נישט ברידער, אָט אַזױ זיך
מיט פֿאַרלײגטע הענט,
שטײט ניט, ברידער, לעשט דאָס פֿײַער – אונדזער שטעטל ברענט!
It's Burning
It's burning, brothers! It's burning!
Oh, our poor village, brothers, burns!
Evil winds, full of anger,
Rage and ravage, smash and shatter;
Stronger now that wild flames grow --
All around now burns!
And you stand there looking on
With futile, folded arms
And you stand there looking on --
While our village burns!
It's burning, brothers! It's burning!
Oh, our poor village, brothers, burns!
Soon the rabid tongues of fire
Will consume each house entire,
As the wild wind blows and howls --
The whole town's up in flames!
And you stand there looking on
With futile, folded arms,
And you stand there looking on --
While our village burns!
It's burning, brothers! Our town is burning!
Oh, God forbid the moment should arrive,
That our town, with us, together,
Should go up in ash and fire,
Leaving when the slaughter's ended
Charred and empty walls!
And you stand there looking on
With futile, folded arms,
And you stand there looking on --
While our village burns!
It's burning, brothers! Our town is burning!
And our salvation hands on you alone.
If our town is dear to you,
Grab the buckets, douse the fire!
Show that you know how!
Don't stand there, brothers, looking on
With futile, folded arms,
Don't stand there, brothers, douse the fire! --
Our poor village burns!
-- Mordechai Gebirtig
Revenge
Men, women, children, the old
march together through the streets, to the fire,
all going to the sacrificial altar,
like herded sheep,
these people of Staszów.
My town flickers with a hellish fire.
The houses are burning, with all that is dear.
The dead and the dying mingle together,
grandfathers, fathers, and children in flames.
The young escape to the Golejów Forest,
refusing to stretch out their necks for the slaughter.
They'll fight to their deaths to defeat the foe.
Death to the Nazis –that is their goal.
We swear, by the memories of those holy souls,
to wreak revenge on their murderers,
and to carry out their last wish and testament:
no more blood, no more war.
Yakov Szternlicht
رايات الصمود
مهما تحط حدود
مهما تصف جنود
على طول رافعين رايات الصمود
مهما تحط حدود
مهما تصف جنود
على طول رافعين رايات الصمود
شعبك فلسطين
مهما تمر سنين
شعبك فلسطين
مهما تمر سنين
مهما تباعد
مهما تشرد
لازم يوما يعود
رايات الصمود
رايات الصمود
مهما تزيد النار
رح نبقا احرار
مهما تزيد النار
رح نبقا احرار
لو طال المشوار
لازم يوما يعود
رايات الصمود
رايات الصمود
شعبك فلسطين
مهما تمر سنين
شعبك فلسطين
مهما تمر سنين
مهما تباعد
مهما تشرد
لازم يوما يعود
رايات الصمود
رايات الصمود
لو بدك سلام
لا تزرع آلام
لو بدك سلام
لا تزرع آلام
ملينا الكلام
لازم يوما يعود
رايات الصمود
رايات الصمود
مهما تحط حدود
مهما تصف جنود
على طول رافعين رايات الصمود
شعبك فلسطين
مهما تمر سنين
شعبك فلسطين
مهما تمر سنين
مهما تباعد
مهما تشرد
لازم يوما يعود
رايات الصمود
رايات الصمود
The Flags of Perseverance
No matter how many borders you lay down
No matter how many soldiers you line up1
Forever we raise the flags of perseverance
No matter how many borders you lay down
No matter how many soldiers you line up
Forever we raise the flags of perseverance
Your people Palestine,
No matter how many years pass
Your people Palestine,
No matter how many years pass
No matter how much they got separated
No matter how much they've been made homeless
They must return one day
the flags of perseverance
the flags of perseverance
No matter how much the firepower2 rises
We will remain free
No matter how much the firepower rises
Even if the journey becomes longer
[We/they] must return one day
the flags of perseverance
the flags of perseverance
Your people Palestine,
No matter how many years pass
Your people Palestine,
No matter how many years pass
No matter how much they got separated
No matter how much they've been made homeless
They must return one day
the flags of perseverance
the flags of perseverance
If you want peace
Do not plant pain
If you want peace
Do not plant pain
We are bored of talking
[We/they] must return one day
the flags of perseverance
the flags of perseverance
No matter how many borders you lay down
No matter how many soldiers you line up
Forever we raise the flags of perseverance
Your people Palestine,
No matter how many years pass
Your people Palestine,
No matter how many years pass
No matter how much they got separated
No matter how much they've been made homeless
They must return one day
the flags of perseverance
the flags of perseverance
1 The lyrics here are misheard. It is "مهما تصف جنود" not "مهما تشوف جنود". The misheard version would make the sentence "No matter how many soldiers you see."
2 literal translation: "No matter how much the fire rises" but here the song is referring to firepower/bullets.
-- Naser Musa
Context:
"Rayat al Sumud" is a Palestinian song composed by Naser Musa and arranged by the Iranian-Canadian band Niyaz.
Resist, My People, Resist Them
Resist, my people, resist them.
In Jerusalem, I dressed my wounds and breathed my sorrows
And carried the soul in my palm
For an Arab Palestine.
I will not succumb to the “peaceful solution,”
Never lower my flags
Until I evict them from my land.
I cast them aside for a coming time.
Resist, my people, resist them.
Resist the settler’s robbery
And follow the caravan of martyrs.
Shred the disgraceful constitution
Which imposed degradation and humiliation
And deterred us from restoring justice.
They burned blameless children;
As for Hadil, they sniped her in public,
Killed her in broad daylight.
Resist, my people, resist them.
Resist the colonialist’s onslaught.
Pay no mind to his agents among us
Who chain us with the peaceful illusion.
Do not fear doubtful tongues;
The truth in your heart is stronger,
As long as you resist in a land
That has lived through raids and victory.
So Ali called from his grave:
Resist, my rebellious people.
Write me as prose on the agarwood;
My remains have you as a response.
Resist, my people, resist them.
Resist, my people, resist them.
Dareen Tatour
Some context is in this article: https://paxchristi.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/06-Resist-My-People-Resist-Them.pdf
We do not know what Ahmed was doing—whether he intended to run into the soldiers, or whether he made a mistake that ultimately led to being wounded and left to die by the Israeli soldiers present that day. What we do know is that that is not the point.
Palestinians react violently to the violent military occupation they are living under. Humans do that—they react to the unjust killings around them, the denial of necessary—and available—medical care, the late night arrests, the dehumanization of the Israeli permit regime, the arbitrary detentions that can last decades, the land theft, the demolitions of children's homes and schools, the humiliation of endless checkpoints, guns, suspicious, young soldiers and their invasive questions. While we are a thoroughly nonviolent organization, we understand why some react in anger against a military regime that can often make us feel like captives in a pressure cooker. It is Kafkaesque, this system that either gets you when you slip up, knowingly or unknowingly, or gets you eventually even when you've done nothing wrong—see the many families targeted for supposedly selling the homes they swear they would never dream of selling.
When we demand #JusticeforAhmedErakat, we must not talk about carceral justice. We must talk about the dismantling of settler-colonial and occupation systems—no more checkpoints for Palestinians, or laws and policies that work for their communities' destruction. We must demand #decolonization based on equal status for all people, regardless of religion, race, sex, or any other arbitrary determinant. Most importantly, we must focus on proactive justice, bringing about these changes in order to prevent the murders of more young men, like Iyad Hallaq and Ahmed Erakat."
- Good Shepherd Collective
I don't want to mourn you,
I don't want to preach
nor to reproach you.
I just want to ask you:
Tell me, world –
It's your son who is asking,
who is entitled to ask,
a son, who's returning from battle, from fire,
who treasures freedom as much as you.
Tell me, world –
after all, I'm your child –
after such suffering and shame,
where shall I make my home?
Tell me, world –
Here my foe pulled me up from my roots,
buried my people.
Is your conscience not moved?
Tell me, world –
I wait for your answer.
You have such riches at your disposal,
why can't you provide for my people?
Yizhak Kozuchowicz, Staszow
https://imemc.org/article/muslim-worshipers-perform-friday-prayers-on-threatened-palestinian-land/
https://www.middleeastmonitor.com/20200226-the-dawn-prayer-protests-provide-an-example-of-palestinian-steadfastness/
(עו) אֱלֹהֵינוּ וֵאלֹהֵי אֲבוֹתֵינוּ. מֶלֶךְ רַחֲמָן רַחֵם עָלֵינוּ. טוֹב וּמֵטִיב הִדָּרֶשׁ לָנוּ. שׁוּבָה אֵלֵינוּ בַּהֲמוֹן רַחֲמֶיךָ. בִּגְלַל אָבוֹת שֶׁעָשׂוּ רְצוֹנֶךָ. בְּנֵה בֵיתְךָ כְּבַתְּחִלָּה וְכוֹנֵן מִקְדָּשְׁךָ עַל מְכוֹנוֹ. וְהַרְאֵנוּ בְּבִנְיָנוֹ וְשַׂמְּחֵנוּ בְּתִקּוּנוֹ. וְהָשֵׁב כֹּהֲנִים לַעֲבוֹדָתָם וּלְוִיִּם לְשִׁירָם וּלְזִמְרָם. וְהָשֵׁב יִשְׂרָאֵל לִנְוֵיהֶם.
Our God and God of our ancestors, merciful King, have compassion upon us. You who are good and do good, respond to our call. Return to us in Your abounding mercy for the sake of our fathers who did Your will. Rebuild Your Temple as at the beginning, and establish Your Sanctuary on its site. Let us witness its rebuilding and gladden us by its restoration. Bring the priests back to their service, the Levites to their song and music, and the Israelites to their homes.
Koren Siddur translation
(טו) מִשֶּׁמֵּת רַבִּי מֵאִיר, בָּטְלוּ מוֹשְׁלֵי מְשָׁלִים. מִשֶּׁמֵּת בֶּן עַזַּאי, בָּטְלוּ הַשַּׁקְדָּנִים. מִשֶּׁמֵּת בֶּן זוֹמָא, בָּטְלוּ הַדַּרְשָׁנִים. מִשֶּׁמֵּת רַבִּי יְהוֹשֻׁעַ, פָּסְקָה טוֹבָה מִן הָעוֹלָם. מִשֶּׁמֵּת רַבָּן שִׁמְעוֹן בֶּן גַּמְלִיאֵל, בָּא גוֹבַי וְרַבּוּ צָרוֹת. מִשֶּׁמֵּת רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר בֶּן עֲזַרְיָה, פָּסַק הָעשֶׁר מִן הַחֲכָמִים. מִשֶּׁמֵּת רַבִּי עֲקִיבָא, בָּטַל כְּבוֹד הַתּוֹרָה. מִשֶּׁמֵּת רַבִּי חֲנִינָא בֶּן דּוֹסָא, בָּטְלוּ אַנְשֵׁי מַעֲשֶׂה. מִשֶּׁמֵּת רַבִּי יוֹסֵי קַטְנוּתָא, פָּסְקוּ חֲסִידִים. וְלָמָּה נִקְרָא שְׁמוֹ קַטְנוּתָא, שֶׁהָיָה קַטְנוּתָן שֶׁל חֲסִידִים. מִשֶּׁמֵּת רַבָּן יוֹחָנָן בֶּן זַכַּאי, בָּטַל זִיו הַחָכְמָה. מִשֶּׁמֵּת רַבָּן גַּמְלִיאֵל הַזָּקֵן, בָּטַל כְּבוֹד הַתּוֹרָה וּמֵתָה טָהֳרָה וּפְרִישׁוּת. מִשֶּׁמֵּת רַבִּי יִשְׁמָעֵאל בֶּן פָּאבִי, בָּטַל זִיו הַכְּהֻנָּה. מִשֶּׁמֵּת רַבִּי, בָּטְלָה עֲנָוָה וְיִרְאַת חֵטְא. רַבִּי פִנְחָס בֶּן יָאִיר אוֹמֵר, מִשֶּׁחָרַב בֵּית הַמִּקְדָּשׁ, בּוֹשׁוּ חֲבֵרִים וּבְנֵי חוֹרִין, וְחָפוּ רֹאשָׁם, וְנִדַּלְדְּלוּ אַנְשֵׁי מַעֲשֶׂה, וְגָבְרוּ בַעֲלֵי זְרוֹעַ וּבַעֲלֵי לָשׁוֹן, וְאֵין דּוֹרֵשׁ וְאֵין מְבַקֵּשׁ, וְאֵין שׁוֹאֵל, עַל מִי לָנוּ לְהִשָּׁעֵן, עַל אָבִינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמָיִם. רַבִּי אֱלִיעֶזֶר הַגָּדוֹל אוֹמֵר, מִיּוֹם שֶׁחָרַב בֵּית הַמִּקְדָּשׁ, שָׁרוּ חַכִּימַיָּא לְמֶהֱוֵי כְסָפְרַיָּא, וְסָפְרַיָּא כְּחַזָּנָא, וְחַזָּנָא כְּעַמָּא דְאַרְעָא, וְעַמָּא דְאַרְעָא אָזְלָא וְדַלְדְּלָה, וְאֵין מְבַקֵּשׁ, עַל מִי יֵשׁ לְהִשָּׁעֵן, עַל אָבִינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמָיִם. בְּעִקְּבוֹת מְשִׁיחָא חֻצְפָּא יִסְגֵּא, וְיֹקֶר יַאֲמִיר, הַגֶּפֶן תִּתֵּן פִּרְיָהּ וְהַיַּיִן בְּיֹקֶר, וְהַמַּלְכוּת תֵּהָפֵךְ לְמִינוּת, וְאֵין תּוֹכֵחָה, בֵּית וַעַד יִהְיֶה לִזְנוּת, וְהַגָּלִיל יֶחֱרַב, וְהַגַּבְלָן יִשּׁוֹם, וְאַנְשֵׁי הַגְּבוּל יְסוֹבְבוּ מֵעִיר לְעִיר וְלֹא יְחוֹנָּנוּ, וְחָכְמַת סוֹפְרִים תִּסְרַח, וְיִרְאֵי חֵטְא יִמָּאֲסוּ, וְהָאֱמֶת תְּהֵא נֶעְדֶּרֶת. נְעָרִים פְּנֵי זְקֵנִים יַלְבִּינוּ, זְקֵנִים יַעַמְדוּ מִפְּנֵי קְטַנִּים. (מיכה ז) בֵּן מְנַבֵּל אָב, בַּת קָמָה בְאִמָּהּ, כַּלָּה בַּחֲמֹתָהּ, אֹיְבֵי אִישׁ אַנְשֵׁי בֵיתוֹ. פְּנֵי הַדּוֹר כִּפְנֵי הַכֶּלֶב, הַבֵּן אֵינוֹ מִתְבַּיֵּשׁ מֵאָבִיו. וְעַל מִי יֵשׁ לָנוּ לְהִשָּׁעֵן, עַל אָבִינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמָיִם. רַבִּי פִנְחָס בֶּן יָאִיר אוֹמֵר, זְרִיזוּת מְבִיאָה לִידֵי נְקִיּוּת, וּנְקִיּוּת מְבִיאָה לִידֵי טָהֳרָה, וְטָהֳרָה מְבִיאָה לִידֵי פְרִישׁוּת, וּפְרִישׁוּת מְבִיאָה לִידֵי קְדֻשָּׁה, וּקְדֻשָּׁה מְבִיאָה לִידֵי עֲנָוָה, וַעֲנָוָה מְבִיאָה לִידֵי יִרְאַת חֵטְא, וְיִרְאַת חֵטְא מְבִיאָה לִידֵי חֲסִידוּת, וַחֲסִידוּת מְבִיאָה לִידֵי רוּחַ הַקֹּדֶשׁ, וְרוּחַ הַקֹּדֶשׁ מְבִיאָה לִידֵי תְחִיַּת הַמֵּתִים, וּתְחִיַּת הַמֵּתִים בָּא עַל יְדֵי אֵלִיָּהוּ זָכוּר לַטּוֹב, אָמֵן:
(15) The mishna lists more things that ceased: From the time when Rabbi Meir died, those who relate parables ceased; from the time when ben Azzai died, the diligent ceased; from the time when ben Zoma died, the exegetists ceased; from the time when Rabbi Yehoshua died, goodness ceased from the world; from the time when Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel died, locusts come and troubles multiplied; from the time when Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya died, the sages ceased to be wealthy; from the time when Rabbi Akiva died, the honor of the Torah ceased; from the time when Rabbi Ḥanina ben Dosa died, the men of wondrous action ceased; from the time when Rabbi Yosei the Small died, the pious were no more. And why was he called the Small? Because he was the smallest of the pious, meaning he was one of the least important of the pious men. From the time when Rabban Yoḥanan ben Zakkai died, the glory of wisdom ceased; from the time when Rabban Gamliel the Elder died, the honor of the Torah ceased, and purity and asceticism died. From the time when Rabbi Yishmael ben Pavi died, the glory of the priesthood ceased; from the time when Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi died, humility and fear of sin ceased. Rabbi Pineḥas ben Ya’ir says: From the time when the Second Temple was destroyed, the ḥaverim and free men of noble lineage were ashamed, and their heads were covered in shame, and men of action dwindled, and violent and smooth-talking men gained the upper hand, and none seek, and none ask, and none inquire of the fear of Heaven. Upon whom is there for us to rely? Only upon our Father in Heaven. Rabbi Eliezer the Great says: From the day the Second Temple was destroyed, the generations have deteriorated: Scholars have begun to become like scribes that teach children, and scribes have become like beadles, and beadles have become like ignoramuses, and ignoramuses are increasingly diminished, and none ask and none seek. Upon whom is there to rely? Only upon our Father in Heaven. He also said: In the times of the approach of the Messiah, impudence will increase and high costs will pile up. Although the vine shall bring forth its fruit, wine will nevertheless be expensive. And the monarchy shall turn to heresy, and there will be no one to give reproof about this. The meeting place of the Sages will become a place of promiscuity, and the Galilee shall be destroyed, and the Gavlan will be desolate, and the men of the border shall go round from city to city to seek charity, but they will find no mercy. And the wisdom of scribes will putrefy, and people who fear sin will be held in disgust, and the truth will be absent. The youth will shame the face of elders, elders will stand before minors. Normal family relations will be ruined: A son will disgrace a father; a daughter will rise up against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. A man’s enemies will be the members of his household. The face of the generation will be like the face of a dog; a son will no longer be ashamed before his father. And upon what is there for us to rely? Only upon our Father in heaven. Rabbi Pineḥas ben Ya’ir says: Torah study leads to care in the performance of mitzvot. Care in the performance of mitzvot leads to diligence in their observance. Diligence leads to cleanliness of the soul. Cleanliness of the soul leads to abstention from all evil. Abstention from evil leads to purity and the elimination of all base desires. Purity leads to piety. Piety leads to humility. Humility leads to fear of sin. Fear of sin leads to holiness. Holiness leads to the Divine Spirit. The Divine Spirit leads to the resurrection of the dead.
(1) I am the man who has known affliction
Under-a the rod of His wrath; (2) Me He drove on and on
In unrelieved darkness; (3) On none but me He brings down His hand
Again and again, without cease. (4) He has worn away my flesh and skin;
He has shattered my bones. (5) All around me He has built
Misery and hardship; (6) He has made me dwell in darkness,
Like those long dead. (7) He has walled me in and I cannot break out;
He has weighed me down with chains. (8) And when I cry and plead,
He shuts out my prayer; (9) He has walled in my ways with hewn blocks,
He has made my paths a maze.
(10) He is a lurking bear to me,
A lion in hiding; (11) He has forced me off my way-c and mangled me,
He has left me numb. (12) He has bent His bow and made me
The target of His arrows: (13) He has shot into my vitals
The shafts of His quiver. (14) I have become a laughingstock to all people,
The butt of their gibes all day long. (15) He has filled me with bitterness,
Sated me with wormwood.
(16) He has broken my teeth on gravel,
Has ground me into the dust. (17) My life was bereft of peace,
I forgot what happiness was. (18) I thought my strength and hope
Had perished before the LORD. (19) To recall my distress and my misery
Was wormwood and poison; (20) Whenever I thought of them,
I was bowed low.
(21) But this do I call to mind,
Therefore I have hope: (22) The kindness of the LORD has not ended,
His mercies are not spent. (23) They are renewed every morning—
Ample is Your grace! (24) “The LORD is my portion,” I say with full heart;
Therefore will I hope in Him. (25) The LORD is good to those who trust in Him,
To the one who seeks Him; (26) It is good to wait patiently
Till rescue comes from the LORD. (27) It is good for a man, when young,
To bear a yoke; (28) Let him sit alone and be patient,
When He has laid it upon him. (29) Let him put his mouth to the dust—
There may yet be hope. (30) Let him offer his cheek to the smiter;
Let him be surfeited with mockery. (31) For the Lord does not
Reject forever, (32) But first afflicts, then pardons
In His abundant kindness. (33) For He does not willfully bring grief
Or affliction to man, (34) Crushing under His feet
All the prisoners of the earth. (35) To deny a man his rights
In the presence of the Most High, (36) To wrong a man in his cause—
This the Lord does not choose. (37) Whose decree was ever fulfilled,
Unless the Lord willed it? (38) Is it not at the word of the Most High,
That weal and woe befall? (39) Of what shall a living man complain?
Each one of his own sins!
(40) Let us search and examine our ways,
And turn back to the LORD; (41) Let us lift up our hearts with our hands
To God in heaven: (42) We have transgressed and rebelled,
And You have not forgiven. (43) You have clothed Yourself in anger and pursued us,
You have slain without pity. (44) You have screened Yourself off with a cloud,
That no prayer may pass through. (45) You have made us filth and refuse
In the midst of the peoples. (46) All our enemies loudly
Rail against us. (47) Panic and pitfall are our lot,
Death and destruction. (48) My eyes shed streams of water
Over the ruin of my poor people.
(49) My eyes shall flow without cease,
Without respite, (50) Until the LORD looks down
And beholds from heaven. (51) My eyes have brought me grief-f
Over all the maidens of my city. (52) My foes have snared me like a bird,
Without any cause. (53) They have ended my life in a pit
And cast stones at me. (54) Waters flowed over my head;
I said: I am lost!
(55) I have called on Your name, O LORD,
From the depths of the Pit. (56) Hear my plea;
Do not shut Your ear
To my groan, to my cry! (57) You have ever drawn nigh when I called You;
You have said, “Do not fear!” (58) You championed my cause, O Lord,
You have redeemed my life. (59) You have seen, O LORD, the wrong done me;
Oh, vindicate my right! (60) You have seen all their malice,
All their designs against me; (61) You have heard, O LORD, their taunts,
All their designs against me, (62) The mouthings and pratings of my adversaries
Against me all day long. (63) See how, at their ease or at work,
I am the butt of their gibes. (64) Give them, O LORD, their deserts
According to their deeds. (65) Give them anguish of heart;
Your curse be upon them! (66) Oh, pursue them in wrath and destroy them
From under the heavens of the LORD!