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.
