Invocation Poem by Shlomo ibn Gabirol

Root of our saviour,
The scion of Jesse,
Till when wilt thou linger,
Invisible, buried?
Bring forth a flower,
For winter is over!

Why should a slave rule
The lineage of princes,
A hairy barbarian
Replace our young sovran?

The years are a thousand
Since, broken and scattered,
We wander in exile,
Like waterfowl lost in
The depths of the desert.

No man in white linen
Reveals at our asking
The end of our Exile.
God sealed up the matter,
And closed up the knowledge.


Translated by Israel Zangwill