The Eucalyptus Grove (Israel)
When mother came here, pretty and young
Then father built a house for her, on the hill
The springs passed, half a century
And the curls turned grey.

But on the Jordan bank, nothing seems to change
The same silence and the same decor
The eucalyptus grove, the bridge, the boat
And the Saltbush's fragrance on the water.

The cannons thundered on the other side of the Jordan
And then - peace returned when the summer ended.
All the babies grew up
And again built a house on the hill. [ close window ]