The
Legend of Yaacov Raz
by
Uri Zvi Greenberg
Zion-at-war, command thy
troops: Stand
As soldiers stand,
with clenched lips; Do not mar
This memorial to
a soldier outstanding -
I am in Poland but
sing from afar:
A body was buried
in the land of David our King
Yaacov Raz the avenger,
torn to shreds.
No marble obelisk
marks his Mount of Olives grave
No daughters of Jerusalem
lay flowers at his bed.
Not into brave-nation’s-earth,
but into gray mud
Sank the body of
the avenger Yaacov Raz
That body which had
been pierced and pierced
By the spears of
Arabs.
- How is this pierced
body different
Than others, Arabs
in Zion have torn
Yet of him, rebels
will sing
While others, mourners
will mourn.
Early that morning
rose Yaacov Raz, imbued
With revenge, the
mission that sanctifies;
He wrapped himself
therein, as in a shroud,
But gave no parting
kisses and said no good-byes.
Does anyone know
how his face shone in the Jerusalem dawn?
I know, I know his
face, for I shine in its light
He was sent forth
from Lachish and Betar
A single man, enemies
felled by his might.
So once walked, in
the early hours of Jerusalem
His brother and comrade,
Yochanan,
His shawl heaving
with retribution
As clouds with thunder
and lightning within.
Surrounded by the enemy’s carnivorous beaks
He was, among hundreds of
thousands, the lone
Among demeaned Jews,
among Jewish slaves
The lone hero and
most beautiful person.
As the attackers
circled and pierced him through
Taking their meals
or stretched out in bed,
The Jews of Zion,
the listless Jews,
Did not know whose
body fell dead.
Yet these others will pass,
into their graves
The wise and the
fool, alike will die.
Like animals who’ve
gorged themselves
Their memory too
will rot where they lie.
God eyed him as he
was surrounded
And Jerusalem eyed
the son it had sired;
God and Jerusalem
kept silent their secret,
As their son fell,
all blood and fire.
Since the day the
avenger Yaacov Raz did die
And was buried, his
wounds still glistening
I see him striding
the streets of the city of David
Peering up alleys,
and at doorways listening.
I sing this song
in his honor and tell his story
For no marble monuments
await such as he
Yet in the robes
of the Redeemer, who will come in glory
Will the name Yaacov
Raz, Avenger, be woven for all to see.
And as all blood
will be avenged, so will his blood be.
(translated by
Zev Golan, in memory of Rabbi Hillel Lieberman)
