The olive trees and the doves

Sha’alu shlom

Sha’alu shlom

Sha’alu shlom

Sha’alu shlom Yerushalayim.

Hinneh mah-tov u-mah-na’im, shevet achim gam yachad

Vechi-yagur itt’cha ger b’eretz’chem, lo tonu oto

Ke’ezrach mikem yih’yeh lachem ha’ger ha’gar itt’chem

V’ahavta lo kamocha

Ki-gerim heyitem b’eretz Mitzrayim

Ani Adonai Eloheichem

Qutila al-salām ʿala al-turāb al-maḥrūq

Wa al-ashjāru al-ʿatīqah tuqṭaʿ—wa al-ḥamām yahrub

Ayna al-shāhidūn? wa man yaktubu lil-aṭfāl alladhīna mātū?

Nanzifu min ghayri dhanbin, wa naḥmilu al-faqda ka-jurḥin fī qulūbinā

The old olive trees,

representing peace to all—

you came to uproot.

The doves still resting,

in the shade of their branches —

you chased off or killed.

The tribulation—

in the nightmares of your wrath

to effectuate!

Crumbling fragments, browned—

written in ink, black and red,

don’t whitewash your guilt.