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Doves of Latrun

The Doves of Latrun is a very special book for me, commemorating the Armored Corps of the IDF and its soldiers, past, present, future, in prose and poetry. This book was published with the generosity of Mr. Charney Leon in 2006. Poems  translated by Mel Rosenberg


War is at the doorstep
So I’m told
But I keep sweeping it away,

Casting a spell
To drive it far
From the castle.
Embrace me
I have padlocked the gate
Love sentries stand guard.
The angels know
That where there is love
One dare not fire.

Soldiers in Uniform

Sea of Cyclamens

The sea of cyclamens at Latrun

Weaves modestly around the metal beasts

Peering down with their black eyes,

Softly adding color to their stone-hard faces,

Between rocks and treads,

Gently bending pink heads.


On the tank tower standing high on the hill

One hundred old gray doves

Sing with metallic voices.

There on the hill

They watched the war

And turned pitch black.

And when the tank's heart ceased pounding,

Perching on its heavy shoulders,

They waited for the spell to pass.

Storm Clouds


Create the world again, Lord,

This time carefully keeping the dark from light

And do not let us simple people

Set the boundaries.

Divide once more the land and sea,

And keep us apart for good,

So that we do not see and do not lust

To kill one another.

Take a little milk and honey,

And give us some rest,

Do not raise your hand to strike down the children,

Just leave them in peace.


Tower of Tears

A salty rain falls in the Tower of Tears,

Winter, summer, fall.

And even when spring appears and the earth blossoms - 

The Tower of Tears still cries.

Its pained body riddled with wars,

With no hands to dry the

Tears of Mother, Father, sister,

Wandering restlessly,

Stinging its wounds.


The Wall of Names

The bright metal draws
Out of its long body
The names of all those who have fallen
And in the woods nearby –
Each one has a cyclamen
That grows and cries for him.

The Latrun March

Soft vines

Send their little green fingers,
Bursting through the fence 
To touch the winding mountain Road.
Up the path march cypress and Pine trees,
Thistles and stones extend their sharp bodies
And a wildflower flaunts its color.
Migrant birds nestle in whistling 

The laughter of children rises through the forest trees,
Songs of soldiers embrace the mountain
And the love for this land
Reflected in the faces of the people.
Flying with the wind over
The road that has a taste 
Of lemon and pineapple.

There are no More Great Miracles 

There are no more great miracles

And wonders

They have vanished from the earth

Like fairies.

There are only small miracles

With tired and dusty eyes

You can see them almost everywhere

And you can laugh with them

And love them so

These small miracles

Are the children

Guarding the wonders

Of this land.


How can the wind caress 
This metal face
This leaf
This stone.
Whipping the first,
Weaving dreams in the second,
And in the third,
Weeping, comforting,
Drying the tears.


The priests and the prayers
Pass silently 
Between the rocks and the fence 
Searching for angels.
The watchful skies, changing hue,
Take it all in
And the earth gives blessing.

Vines, not yet having cheered 
The hearts of men,
Olive trees, not having yet unfurled the dove of peace.


Distant birds anchor here, 
They have never seen
Such a valley,
Spreading its hope
Over the Tower of tears
And waiting in anticipation.

Forest of the Generations

The Forest of Generations is asleep,

In a few years it will arise,

Spread its leafy hands to the

Rain and light and blue skies.

The wind will whistle through green trees and tanks,

The indelible legacy of the Family of the Armored Crops

Stationed at Latrun, blossoms in the Ayalon vally.

Garden Soil



You can read the full collection of "Doves of Latrun" here >>

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