I haven't sung to you my land,

I haven't glorified your name,

With heroic tales,

With numerous battles:

Only a tree – has my hands planted

The shores of the Jordan are silent,

Only a path – have my feet conquered

Over fields.

 

True, it is   meager

I knew this, mother

Yes, it is very poor

The gift of your daughter

Only the sound of joy

On a luminous day,

Only silent sobs

Over your poverty.