To the Sons Who Were Banished from Their Fathers’ Tables

Aharon Almog

1956

My father, my father, how you stood over me
Against childhood sorrows and the agony of years.
You raised children, father, and also great hopes,
and in return received nothing but despair and woes.
I recall the table even as the songs have long ceased,
I shed a tear, mournful and bleak
My sister Liora on a bright Shabbat morn
teaching me a seuda
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