A world of hate and skies of unrest
Are always a theme for a song of protest:
From village to village it preaches its word
To the young that thirst for tomorrow's world
To convince them is no problem we know
Because off to the army tomorrow they'll go.
The eyes that brightly gaze today and gleam
Will see that yesterday was only a dream
And finger on the trigger in a trench across the plain
You will truly know that it was all in vain.
For men who were so wise went out and built
Yet knew that one day people would be killed
Out to run along with the times they did not want to fail
So they did not stop and hesitate at such a small detail,
And that small detail = a world of hate
With those same people - and a song of protest
Can be rising now to rebel
And cry out to the world: ENOUGH OF KILLING'
PERCHANCE A WILL
I know there is still time
I am going off to the army, who knows what will be
Yet still I should like
You all to know I enjoyed writing
Whatever: poems, verses, articles
And letters to friends of both sexes.
With age, it wanes a bit
Maybe you need more quiet and time
In order to write and experience through writing
Yet still, the way things are at present
In Israel, it's hard to write what comes from the heart
And be satisfied with what's been written
Work in the Kibbutz before the army.
Yes it's a bit different
because today I'm working in the kindergarten
but it's worth remembering
Just so as to think and reflect over
a very beautiful period
when I worked in the cotton branch.
At first light when the sun comes
out I open my early morning eyes
wash my face and dress at once
Drinking black coffee in the dining hall
but I'm awake and it doesn't help
I make my way to the garage
picking up my friend who got lost on the way.
We arrive at the garage and at once see
that the tractor and I - are real friends
and with companions like this theres nothing to worry about
For they are strong - extremely so
Of course it depends on the work
be it cultivating or dragging pipes
but yesterday evening the boss had said:
'You're moving pipes tomorrow',
And theres no arguing with the boss
otherwise he gets sore as hell
One tends to the tractor, fills it and examines it
everything's ready and we can go -
I go out into the fields and its all open
the sun is shining and a gentle wind is blowing
I enter the line closest to Ein Dor
place the rope and begin to drag the pipes.
He works from morning until lunchtime
and there are still many pipes to move
works until three and until five
the sun is setting, its quarter to six
and so he works on for many days
and there'll always be more pipes.
A final word: yes, it's a bit different today,
because now I'm a kindergarten teacher
and instead of dragging pipes
I'm only dragging kids -
First of all, Mazaltov on your 17th birthday and all my greetings for success in everything you do.
The age of 17 for a girl is like 18 for a boy and he becomes a man.
Now you're becoming more responsible for what you do and even more: you're slowly changing from a girl to a woman and that's a marvelous stage in life which never returns.
I hope we'll know how to maintain contact and the friendly relations we built up even when I'll be in the army and you'll be remaining here.