They come from the mountains, from the valley, from the desert
They come - names, faces, eyes - and join the gathering
The come with a manly step, strong and tanned
They come out of the crushed airplanes and from burnt tanks
They rise up from behind boulders, over dunes and from
trenches
Brave as lions, strong as leopards and swift as eagles
And they pass one by one between two rows of angels
Who feed them sweet candies and place flowers around their
necks
And I look at them and they are all happy
These are my brothers, these are the brothers.
And they meet each other, black, blue and brown eyed
And they remind each other the names of weapons and places
And they pour each other cups of coffee and tea
And suddenly break our in a shout of comrades
And they meet in this vast crowd friends and companions
And the officers pat the backs of the privates and the
privates shake hands with the officers
And they break out in song and clap hands
And all the inhabitants of heaven listen to them in amazement
And the gathering lasts day and night, day and night
Because never before has there been a group like this in
heaven
And then suddenly they hear familiar voices crying
And they look home to father and mother, to the women and the
children and the brothers and the sisters
And their faces are still and they stand embarrassed
And then one of them whispers: Forgive us, but we had to
We won in the battles and now we are resting.
These are my brothers, these are the brothers.
And thus they stand and the light in on their faces
And only G-d Himself passes among them
And with tears in His eyes, He kisses their wounds
And He says with a trembling voice to his white clad angels:
These are my sons, these are the sons.
Translated by Phyllis Heimowitz
