Friha bat-Yossef / Yossef Chetrit

Translated by Emily Erlank

We were denied the privilege to read

Your novellae and exegesis,

Our perished sister.

We were denied the privilege to sing

Your other poems and prayers,

Our inspiring sister.

Shall we forever seek your writings?

The pair of poems

Which were marvellously uncovered,

Reveal your vigour of longing

And pure wisdom in the Moroccan diaspora

And the Tunisian exile,

Where the thread of your Life and Art

Was severed.

Your two poems like two flares

Ignite the longing

Of many men and women,

And present their offering to creators.

How pure is your prayer

To God in the dawn of your soul!

How fierce your hope

And invocation for the coming of the Messiah!

How profound your sorrow

for the state of the Land of Israel!

How luminous your joy

In invoking the Temple and the Galilee!

You prophesied without knowing,

As you accepted death after setting foot on the Holy Land.

But like so many generations of afflicted dreamers,

You never sunk your palms in its rich soaked soil

Nor slept within its earth’s embrace.

Your memory is adorned by many legends

Which deepened the mystery of your parting

In the shelter that prompted your doom.

Your name comforted the hearts of thousands of women,

Who, in you, found cheer and relief from their pain.

Thousands of maidens vaunted your virtues,

Praying for your defense so that they may find a spouse.

Your name is bliss and it cheered and excited many imaginations.

Your name is promise and it speaks for the women who are mute.