נפתלי פרימור, שירתי

Many said that you're dead
Your language is a matter of pray
Has nothing to do with contemporary people
No land is yours
Nothing but an empty scraped wall
Sarah Rebecca Rachel Leah
Their tomb is so far away
You're hated among all
No one volunteers to invite you to stay
You're chosen to be dismissed
In the century of the hyper-post
Your love kept the letters of the Holy Book
Your tears washed them from the page
To the places they belong:
Israel Jerusalem Canaan.