Sunday, December 23, 2012

Beautiful Poem

I was tidying up and found this, which I had kept from 2004.

Tommy Lapid was then Minister of Justice in Israel.  His son, Yair, is running in the upcoming election and polling strongly

They Say there is a land
by Joseph (Tommy) Lapid

Sometimes I wonder, what it would be like to live in New Zealand.

To be born on an Island in the ocean, in a country which is hard to even locate on the map.

To stroll through a green field and watch the farmer who's shearing his white sheep.

To grow in the house that my Grandfather has built, to be Grandson, to a Grandfather who died from old age.

To learn a 220 year history, from a long thin book, to obtain wine from a barrel in the basement, which is not a bombshelter.

To anxiously follow the local football team season, to voluntarily join the army, since there isn't any compulsory service, and to resign from this army in aspiration for a life involving some action.

To read a newspaper in New Zealand and not to understand what's going on in the holy land:

Why are people getting killed for every little piece of dry land, when the world is so big and life is so precious?

To believe that all men are brothers and that with a bit of kindness and goodness every human problem can be solved.

To be a New Zealander and to know that a cannon only fires on the Queen of England's birthday.

To know that a "Rimon"** is a fruit that can stain a white shirt, to know that a sleeping bag is only meant to be used on camping trips, 

To know that a widow is an old woman, and that if a parent is talking about his son who has fallen, to be polite and ask him if his son is OK, and did he hurt himself?

To be a small and petty New Zealander, who shuts himself within his own four walls, and is not a part of any cosmic experience, is not accountable to anyone, and no one accounts to him, and no man is his guarantor, he is not expected to make any human sacrifice, and no one expects him to sacrifice himself.

To be a little New Zealander whom cats do not bother and that the rackets of the world do not attack.

Elokim!  Who has chosen us over all peoples, I am not complaining to you, 

I am accepting my fate, humbly, lovingly, proudly, 

I would never exchange Jerusalem with Washington, the hard life in Israel with an easy life anywhere else on Earth!

This is my country, the homeland of my children, this is our destiny and we shall overcome it!

But please don't be mad, Ribono Shel Olam, if sometimes, just somtimes, 

I wonder; 

Is it fair that New Zealanders die from Boredom???

** In hebrew the exact translation is a pomegrate, but also refers to a Hand Grenade.
Article translated by Sharon Avis, not a formal translation from Hebrew

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