Translated by A. Z. Foreman - Pine lyrics

Here I will never hear the cuckoo's call. Here trees will never wear the shtreimel-snow. Yet here in the pine's shade I can hear all My childhood, brought to life from long ago. The needles chiming: Once upon a time "Home" was the word I gave to snow, not sand, And the brook-fettering ice- a greenish rime Of my song's language in a foreign land. Perhaps the voyaging birds alone who find Their own route hanging between the sky and earth, Know how I pine between two lands of birth. In you I was transplanted, O my pine. In you I branched into myself and grew Where disparate landscapes split one root in two.