Song of the Nurse

Sleep, my flower, my dear son.

While I rock your cradle,

I will tell you the story of your life.

I will start by saying that you are a Hebrew,

that your name is Israel,

and that this is your title of nobility.

Darling, when you are with those

who do not know your people,

do not be ashamed before their insults,

but answer them aloud.

I pray you, be fearless.

Say, "Am I not descended from the holy ones,

the son of the eternal people?",

the son of the eternally persecuted people,

unhappy like no other but still glorious,

for it has endured for centuries

and will endure forever.

Do not despair, my darling son,

because your people is in exile.

Rather, believe that the sun of justice

will shine on us one day.

Never forget that we have a country,

very far away, and that calls out

to the soul of all Jews.

On its mountains, in its delicious fields,

you will become whatever you want to be:

vinedresser, shepherd, planter, gardener,

you will live in peace...

Sleep, my flower, my dear son.