The peddler from Mizkeret Moshe said

My Jerusalem

Is Machaneh Yehudah on the eve of festivals

And Rachmo’s hummus and the smell of fish

And Rachmo’s hummus and the smell of fish

A Sabbath of “mosaics”, the drivers’ curses

Washing over the road and pegs from the bucket

 

Jerusalem, Jerusalem,

My Jerusalem

My Jerusalem….

 

The cobbler from the Katamon neighborhood said:

My Jerusalem

Is seven years of rain on the block buildings

A neighbourhood without a shop, a bus without an account

A neighbourhood without a shop, a bus without an account

Sabbath – the first showing at Orion

Even Katamon C is mine

 

My Jerusalem…..

 

The bathhouse attendant from Mea Shearim said:

My Jerusalem

Is the black streimel (ultra-orthodox hat) and grey books

And “girls shall not wear short dresses”

And “girls shall not wear short dresses”

It is a whisper of prayer for other days

Not here, because the heavens are also calling me

 

My Jerusalem

 

The young man put a hand on the Damascus Gate and said:

My Jerusalem

Is a cross on a shop, and policemen at midnight

A sister who told tales and a pit with bombs

A sister who told tales and a pit with bombs

A parade for independence, and applauding hands

Yes Sir! What you want, kebab or shishlik!

 

My Jerusalem

A soldier from Ashdot Yaakov said:

My Jerusalem

I was there once in a morning of mourning

An alleyway and a sniper in a tower on the left

I have never been back since, I simply can’t

Avner and Gadi – both of them

Are my Jerusalem