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The White City

A foaming wave and a cloud
I built me a white city
Like them foaming, like them washed, like them beautiful
 
With an unblemished morning a window opens
and you, girl, observe so
like a dove ready to take flight
 
Because the dawn comes and the light
and my entire city goes out to work
and, crowded, has her flight burdened
 
Here is my city, big like light
and she is a grain of grey powder
grain of powder that sticks to an scarf
 
A foaming wave and a cloud
I built me a white city
Like them foaming, like them washed, like them beautiful
 
With a soft evening a window closes
and you, girl, observe so
like a waiting queen to her champion
 
Because the black night comes
my city shines, plenty of bartering
and her lights are a necklace on her neck
 
Here is my city big as night
and she is a somber, giant palace
and my girl rules in it until tomorrow
 

A love song to the sea

If there is still much darkness and there is no star for me
And if the sea is rough,
On the ship's mast, mother, please light a
rose of fire.
 
And if heaven turned pale and stopped smiling
And the thread of dawn is thin,
Reach out with your hand, bless me Mother,
And heart to heart will strengthen.
 
Golden dome above,
Under the abyss and darkness.
Carry me wave, carry me wave
To my dream land.
Carry me with wisdome,
and please do not ask what I have.
Little bird, little bird,
On the horizon awaits me.
 
If my bride in her dream is making a blouse
for her beloved,
Kiss her quietly on her forehead, oh mother,
Tell her that I will be back.
 
And if she will ask what is my path in the sea ,
And what will I hunt for ?
Tell her: Wonderful offering, mother,
For the newborn .
 

Guitar And Violin

Versions: #1
In a small apartment, a bit dark
not far from here, in a side alley
lives a man and a woman
surviving from all that comes to hand1
they are being carried around and around
he is a guitar, she is a violin
 
Changing a string when winter comes
she give him a look, he sinks in her
and afterwards a hand, a soft touch
he sends her a kiss in the air
curling around and around
like a guitar and violin
he in on time and she is on light
 
Friday nights, Saturday nights after the sabbath ends
loving much, speaking little
playing a duet and at once
the sounds go up and the heart is quivering
they are being carried around and around
he is a guitar, she is a violin
 
When the summer come they spread their wings
in pursuit of a dream that they dreamt in the autumn
and they didn't say if they will return
from the mountains of Nepal, from the prairies of Peru
wandering there around and around
he in on time and she is on light
with a guitar and a violin
 
In a small apartment, a bit dark
not far from here, in a side alley
lives a man and a woman...
 

• 1. living hand to mouth, paycheck to paycheck, etc.

Post-war Song

An old song, a song of soldiers
Returning from battle.
A song of a loved one, waiting for you -
Someone sang this before.
 
This is a post-war song,
It always reminds me of hope.
She's waiting, her loved one will soon return.
This is a song that comes after war.
 
He writes a letter, she replies with three,
That's how it always goes.
He sends a song, she wipes away a tear -
Someone sang this before.
 
This is a post-war song,
It always reminds me of hope.
She's waiting, her loved one will soon return.
This is a song that comes after war.
 
The whole street is out, throwing flowers,
It's so good to have peace.
Here they come, God bless them -
Someone sang this before.
 
This is a post-war song,
It always reminds me of hope.
She's waiting, her loved one will soon return.
This is a song that comes after war.
 

When Peace Will Come

And when peace will come will come
and when peace will come will come
we will travel in a train to Damascus
when peace will come will come
 
And when peace will come will come
we will travel to ski in Lebanon
we will drink a glass of Arak Zahlawi1to life
when peace will come will come
 
And when peace will come will come
and when peace will come will come
then i will look at the victory at Bloomfield2
when peace will come will come
 
And when peace will come will come
how will we let loose on that day
we will break glasses in Cairo and Haifa
when peace will come will come
 
And when peace will come will come on the land
we will travel to Cairo
and when peace will come will come on the land
We will sing (the songs of) Farid El Atrache3
 
If it comes, come peace4
if it comes, come peace4
if it comes, come peace4
and when peace will come
everyone will sing here together
just that it will come, will come peace!
 

• 1. Arak from Lebanon
• 2. football stadium in Tel Aviv - home of Hapoel Tel Aviv
• 3. was a Syrian-Egyptian composer and singer
• in arabic

The Song About Yossi The Parrot

They will buy me a parrot and his name will be Yossi
i will talk with him at times when no one else will hear
and i will say to him, I will say:
sadness is like a glass
which contains bitter wine
from the grapes of the soul.
 
Know, Yossi the Parrot, that you are a child for shooting
expect a quiet death
so quiet
and so I in my illuminated grief
will whisper to the walls, Yossi is dead
Yossi is dead.
 
And your ashes will be returned from the cage to your homeland
from the white cage to the yellow dirt
childless, without a parrot mate and offspring
to a parrot like you if forbidden to love
 
You will never love, Yossi, Yossi
Never.
 
Like you were born to make pleasant chatter
with every poet, in whose heart is fire and anger
between hearts uncaring and sinning
 
Like you they are just a toy at home
for the benefit of the children to play with
chatter, Yossi the Parrot
i am a little comforted
my heart today in empty...
 

I peeled an orange

I peeled an orange -
And i found inside
like in a nest
a boy sleeping.
 
The boy said:
'you made a hole here,
repair the slice
the cold is blowing on me.'
 
I said:
'sorry, bye'
and the slices
i put back in their place.
 
and until today -
if he did not catch a cold
inside the orange
the boy sleeps.
 

Israeli-made

If your heart is as heavy as lead
If your soul is grieving within you
Then listen to the song of Israeli-made
Take comfort from it
 
It's the generation, generation of the ,
He's napping and he's late.
He needs a prophet and a preacher
Or at least - an alarm clock.
 
To arouse love and respect and affection
and envy
for the Israeli-made!
For the milk, the gravel, and cakes, the jam
the cheese
of Israeli-made!
If you want something sweeter than sugar for a holiday
go pick some
from the Israeli-made!
If you want something bitter than death, don't worry
there's bitter herbs
of Israeli-made!
There's of any time, of any kind
all hail
the Israeli-made!
But the Jews all hear and still don't comprehend
we have brains...
of Israeli-made!
 
There's no unity in the newborn nation
No joined chain of hands
There's no shoulder, no united front
But there is, but there is not so few -
But there's suspenders, bras, handles
all wonderful
of Israeli-made!
And there's a zoo and inside the zoo
lions
of Israeli-made!
 
With manners and order, never ask for a patent
it is always
of Israeli-made!
And the virgin daughters of Zion speak with a German
accent
of Israeli-made!
And for two years now the fire consumes the fields
of Israeli-made!
And the Englishman ruler, even he uses
methods...
of Israeli-made.
 
It's the generation, generation of the Messianic Age,
He's napping and he's late.
He needs a prophet and a preacher
Or at least - an alarm clock.
 
To arouse love and respect and affection
and envy
for the Israeli-made!
For the milk, the gravel, and cakes, the jam
the cheese
of Israeli-made!
If you want something sweeter than sugar for a holiday
go pick some
from the Israeli-made!
If you want something bitter than death, don't worry
there's bitter herbs
of Israeli-made!
 

Two Roses

Versions: #2
I'll sing you a song of old, of past,
I'll sing you a ballad of a rose.
Once upon many years ago,
There were two roses, two roses.
It was a while ago, in days long gone,
One was white, the other was red.
 
Children of one garden, like two brothers,
They grew leaves and thorns.
When came the morning pure of light,
The white rose opened its eyes,
When the eve came and the day declined,
The red rose closed its eyes.
 
And in the nights, and in the nights,
The winds blew softly.
This way they flowered until came a hand,
A hand that picked one rose.
And we don't know till today -
Was it the white or the red.
 
We only know that the remaining one
Was heartbroken, heartbroken...
Once upon many years ago,
There were two roses, two roses.
It was a while ago, in days long gone,
One was white, the other was red.