ON RETURNING FROM DISTANT ROAMINGS
Translated from the Hebrew of BIALIK by REBECCA A. ALTMAN.
FROM distant climes where I did wander, roam, I hasten, birdlike, toward my mother's home And again the well-loved scenes I see The familiar scenes that cheer and sadden me. And every image sweet again behold, That long I yearned in mine embrace to fold. My soul did thirst upon their necks to weep, To kiss their tear-dewed soil with rapture deep. Of all my solacings, God left me these: Tears abundant and sad memories. Not e'en my wretchedness nor exile's lot. Would Childhood's mem'ries from my mind blot. They are graven 'pon my soul —of me a part— Like seals upon my hand, upon my heart! And e'en the tears that in strange lands I shed, Into thy cup were dropped—O native bed: In distant lands—e'en there no hand was fain To dry the tears that from mine eyes did rain. Brimful, as when I bore it forth, again I bring The bitter cup, unchanged by wandering. And, as when I left it, overflowing, sated— My people—thy cup I find—thy sorrow unabated. Ah! 'Tis thy misery, thy oppression, and thy gloom— How heavy the cloud that doth above thee loom! Not one bitter drop is from thy cup decreased; God hath delayed thy peace—to love thee ceased. Who shall the tears foresee that we are yet to shed— The storms that shall rave and rage around our head! Until benevolent winds shall blow with firmer might, And pierce the o'er hanging clouds and set to flight, And clear the shadows that o'ercast our sky— And to heaven rise our prayer and our cry!