Tel Aviv, 1939
Look, land, how we have been great squanderers!
In your bosom, a blessed lodging, a hidden dwelling, a covered seed...no more
Pearls of glassiness of buckwheat, a heavy seed of wheat
A grain of barley, an orange cat, anxious oats.
Look, land, how we have been great squanderers:
Wild flowers we have buried fresh and in glory
Which the sun kissed withits first kiss
Secreting grace with a beautiful corncob, incense was covered correctly
And until they knew afternoon in fact there was innocent sorrow
And before they had had their fill of the morning dew in light of dreams they sprouted
Here you are the best of our sons, youth pure of dreams
Clear of heart, clean of hands, still not the scum of the earth
And weave their day while there is still warp; weave hopes for the day to come
We have no better than them. Do you see? And where?
And you will cover all of them, make the plant more efficient in its season!
One hundred gates of glory and strength, sacred to the people of the homeland!
Blessed is their sacrifice in the secret of death, denying our life in glory.....
See, land, how we have been great squanderers!