Come

Listen, reader of the dreams

Interpreted by Joseph, who led

Israel into Egypt, brought them

Up again: return us to ourselves.

However long it takes to mill,

To knead the sorry flour, our bread

Crumbles and the neighbors jeer.

Return us to ourselves. Why plant

These terraced hills with vineyards,

Cork trees, almonds, olives, cedars,

Willows trailing in the river?

Passing strangers trample down

Thorn hedges, pluck the orchards

Bare. Deer and boar root out

The broken fruit. Can you look down,

And not return us to ourselves,

The chosen cutting scorched, uprooted?

O unpronounceable that made us,

Make us strong again. We know

There is no going back.

Return us to ourselves.