They love you too, these
little flowers, they too,
even these modest little
ones, that are
utterly hidden from sight. Before anyone notices, they blossom.
They love you too, these little flowers, even as
you pass over them.
They yearn for and are attracted to you as to a mother
They yearn for and are attracted to you as to a mother
mercilessly far from her baby.
They love you and pray to
you for each wave.
"From mom a way out of the dirt with the heat of day and the cessation
of a sorrowful night". "Ruling brilliantly,
oh, Queen of the afternoon."
They love you too, the flowers, they too ... and I,
"From mom a way out of the dirt with the heat of day and the cessation
of a sorrowful night". "Ruling brilliantly,
oh, Queen of the afternoon."
They love you too, the flowers, they too ... and I,
I warmly miss the caustic affection.
My mother use to say to me, "Son,
My mother use to say to me, "Son,
How could I not love you?"
אֲהֵבוּךְ גַּם הַפְּרָחִים הַקְּטַנִּים גַּם הֵם
הַקְּטַנִּים הַצְּנוּעִים הַלָּלוּ שֶׁהֵם
בְּעוֹלָמוֹ שֶׁל רִבּוֹן הָעוֹלָם בְּאֵין שֵׁם
וּלְלֹא עַיִן רוֹאָה יָצִיצוּ
הַקְּטַנִּים הַצְּנוּעִים הַלָּלוּ שֶׁהֵם
בְּעוֹלָמוֹ שֶׁל רִבּוֹן הָעוֹלָם בְּאֵין שֵׁם
וּלְלֹא עַיִן רוֹאָה יָצִיצוּ
אֲהֵבוּךְ גַּם הַפְּרָחִים הַקְּטַנִּים שֶׁכְּשֵׁם
שֶׁאַתְּ כָּאן עוֹבֶרֶת עֲלֵיהֶם וְהֵם
אֵלַיִךְ יַעַרְגוּ וְנִמְשָׁכִים כְּאֶל אֵם
רְחוֹקָה תִינוֹקָהּ לֹא־רֻחָם
אֲהֵבוּךְ וּמִתְפַּלְּלִים לָךְ מִכָּל גָּל
מֵאֵם דֶּרֶךְ מְעַפְּרָה עִם חֹם יוֹם וְעִם דְּמִי
בֵּין שְׁמָשׁוֹת עֲצוּבִים מַלָּךְ וְלִשְׁמִי
הוֹי אַתְּ מְלֶכֶת הַצָּהֳרָיִם
אֲהֵבוּךְ גַּם הַפְּרָחִים גַּם הֵם וַאֲנִי
חַמָּה אֲנִי חָסֵר וְחִבָּה שֶׁל דְּמִי
שֶׁהָיְתָה בְּפִי אִמִּי בְּאָמְרָה לִי בְּנִי
וְאֵיךְ לֹא אֶאֱהָבֵךְ אָנֹכִי
No comments:
Post a Comment