Israel, foretold by wounding, world-room to himself denied,
Of desert wastes, and howling; hope hardly to be held in tremulous
Intrepid hands. Huge his desire, fireball gunned down, rose-bled and all
Life struck dumb, Yehudim bloom as blue as sapphires at Sharon,
Rooting ravenous for footing at Messiah’s water-wells.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem