Two selections, appropriate for this season:
My heart is in the east, and I am in the furthermost west--
How can I enjoy food? Can it be sweet to me?
How shall I make vows and honor bonds, while yet
Zion is held by Edom, and I by Arab chains?
Shouldn't it be easy for me to leave all the good things of Spain --
Seeing how precious it is to behold the dust of the desolate sanctuary.
--
Beautiful land,
Delight of the world,
City of Kings,
My heart longs for you from the far-off west.
I am terribly sad when I remember how you were.
Now your glory is gone, your homes destroyed.
If I could fly to you on the wings of eagles,
I would soak your soil with my tears.
What does it say about Orthodoxy, in 2005, that we no longer treasure nor produce men who write like angels? Just listen to the opening verse of the first poem, in its original Hebrew: Libi b'mizrach v'anochi b'sof ma'arav. Do you hear the word-music? Yet, in our day Shiny Shoe Music passes for brilliance.
That, too, is something to mourn as we, again, come to Tisha B'av.
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