Shir Zmani La-Ashirim
Kabtsan ekhad, kol kakh miskén, katan ka-zayit, psik
ratsa lihyot ashir me’od, ratsa ve-lo hispik
khizar khizar kol ha-yamim, khizar al ha-ptakhim
ad she-hekhliṭ me’al ha-gag likpots min ha-khayim

Yashav levado, al rosh migdal, pitsakh lo gar’inim
et ha-klipot haya zorek le-mata al anashim
amru lo: “red… sham mesukan…” akh hu rak be-shelo
az hem halekhu ve-hu nish’ar levado im retsono

Pit’om hifsik ve-al atsmo hitkhil ktsat lerakhem
boded, atsuv, al rosh migdal, kabtsan miskén bli shem
od kama gar’inim yigmor ve-et atsmo yizrok
ad she-pit’om mi-le-mata kol kore lo me-rakhok
(hei, khaver, ani ra’ev, tamshikh lizrok li et ha-klipot)

Shama kabtsan u-min ha-gag yarad bosh ve-nikhlem
im yesh olam she-bo ekhad gam bli klipot nirdam
ashuv sameakh el beiti maher, maher akhshav
ki tov makom ekhad sheli mi-dimyonot shav

A Temporary Song for the Rich
One beggar, so very poor, tiny as an olive, a comma,
Wanted to be very rich, wanted it—but it wasn’t enough
He went courting, courting every day
Knocking on doorways
Until he decided, from the rooftop
To jump out of life

He sat alone on top of a tower
Cracking sunflower seeds
The shells he would toss
Down onto people below
They said to him, “Come down… it’s dangerous there…”
But he stuck to his own
So they left, and he remained
Alone with his desire

Suddenly he stopped and began
To feel a little pity for himself
Lonely, sad, on top of a tower
A poor beggar without a name
A few more seeds he’ll finish
And then he’ll throw himself down
Until suddenly, from below
A voice calls to him from afar
(Hey, friend, I’m hungry—
Keep throwing me the shells!)

The beggar heard, and from the roof
He came down, ashamed and humbled
If there is a world where someone
Can fall asleep even without shells
I will return happily to my home
Quickly, quickly now
For one place that is truly mine
Is better than empty fantasies