Literature and Poetry/
Sukkot

C.N. Bialik

In a Foreign Country

For the Sukkot Holiday

As moonlight sprinkles through the sechach

Into the Sukkah that seems so dark

In a silver cradle on a soft mat

The Etrog dozes sweetly like a child

 

And as a bodyguard, the Haddas is attached

With brook willows, the Lulav leans

On the weary wall – and around it is silence

And suddenly it also falls in a deep sleep

 

And the two slumber and their hearts are awake

And each one of them dreams its dream from its place

Alas, who is acquainted with the heart of the stranger

And who shall relate the secret of his dream

 

Do they dream about glorious gardens

About the skies of the homeland guarding their hearts

If their soul tires from wandering yonder

Has this dimmed their eyes, dried their buds?

 

Or have their dreams scared them since there is no holiday

Only to sorrows have they been matched by their fate

Their bond was untied and their scent disappeared

Their sight had changed and their glory dimmed.

 

No one is there to explain... through the sechach

Quietly, a pale, swooned ray steals inside

And in a silver cradle on a soft mat

The Etrog dozes, and on its side - the lulav.

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