BEFORE THE POGROM
We have been deaf and blind, Deaf with music, blind with too much light. And shall we now be roused by bitter crying, The shrieks of horrid death, And see the glare of blood?
Our brothers call and call us from the East,They cry to us who are the strong, the liberated:"Come, let us go together to the refuge of our land!Now let us break the bonds of fear, of weakness, of derision,Now let us go together to the land whence none shall driveTo God's stronghold."
But we say: It is well with us, Speak not to us. We will send you crumbs to feed you, We will even call you brothers, But we dare not show our strength,
Dare we rouse the snake, Oppression. He that sleeps a little while? No, we have no land but his land, We are his little worms, and we must respect him. How can we move, or turn with hand or foot, Since we have found a spot without thorns!
Thus we speak to you.And now, our brothers, what will be your answer from the East?Bloodshed.What is the worth of protest, of signed petitions, of dollars?What do they bring?Bloodshed.
Must one be a prophet to phrophesy? Must one have vision to see? The dead hear in their coffins, And the unborn hear in the womb, The crying of blood.
We are deaf; we cannot heed the cry of longing:Only the cry of death will reach us,Of our brother's last gasp.
"Must I destroy again?" saith the Lord, "Must I destroy to redeem?" Must we forever be driven by terror, We, the sons of a hope? Lord, do not strike, do not strike! My heart is breaking, my lips are crying. I will shout aloud, I will make my people hear They that are deaf with music, They that are blind with light. I will call them, I will cry to them! Only, do not strike!