Nation, How Great You Are!

Nation, How Great You Are!
by Uri Zvi Greenberg

Even in captivity mounting to millions!
Your sons, broad of shoulder and strong in spirit,
Arms of iron, thighs of steel;
Sons to work the soil and make homes,
Sons to build houses and factories,
Bridges and tunnels, harbours and highways;
Sons marching to battle against the foe,
Striking the fear of their ancient race into his heart;
Sons to run trains, steer ships, pilot planes,
To sing Hebrew chanteys
In all the seaports of the world,
Wherever they put in with their cargoes;
Shades of sunset in their faces,
And the might of the sea in their eyes.
Nation, your abundant daughters, lovely and sound,
Daughters to work in village and town;
Blessed, themselves, to branch forth like trees,
Giving birth to a new generation
Healthy and fair and tanned by the sun.
And from them-prophets and scholars,
Men of action and daring,
Rulers to take command.
What shall they do here today,
Your sons and daughters,
In the fullness of their vigour,
With the storm of their dammed-up fury,
The force of revolt within them?
What shall they do
With the pulse of battle pounding in their blood?
Bid them conquer the land,
Scale the peaks with standards flying;
Command them to go through fire,
Storm the walls of Titus, raze Bastilles;
As rebels they will go forth,
And you shall hear them, singing their song
Of freedom and conquest and redemption,
Full redemption!
Bid them span the deepest chasms,
And they will turn their bodies into bridges!
Bid them tear down a bridge,
And they will break their bodies with it!
Therefore, O Nation,
Are your sons and daughters walking the earth in anger;
Hundreds, thousands, with rage in their blood,
Bitter of soul, grinding their teeth,
Blaspheming the Kingdom and House of David blessing the House of Stalin,
Trapped like tigers-so many silently expiring
In prisons, in the bloom of their youth,
Dragged off at sunrise to eternal sleep
In an alien land.
Can they be charged with betrayal?
No, it is not they who are guilty!
They are in need of men who are leaders,
Who like themselves are rebels in spirit
With rage in their blood.
They are in need of prophets
To march before them like pillars of fire,
In this-their own generation.

Translation: S.H.G. From Ode To The Nation by Uri Zvi Greenberg, 1933.
The poem can also be found in Dr. Eldad's book The Jewish Revolution.


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