ירושלים של זהב [Yerushalayim shel Zahav] [English translation]

Cool mountain air, pine-needle scented,

As clear as Autumn wine,

Upon the winds of eve ascended

With bells that softly chime.

Aslumber, captive in her dreaming,

The sleep of trees in Fall,

The city – solitary, weeping —

Inside her heart, a wall.

Yerushalayim, realm of gold

Of hallowed light and burnished bronze

I am a harp – all my heartstrings

Will sing your songs.

Yerushalayim, realm of gold

Of hallowed light and burnished bronze

I am a harp – all my heartstrings

Will sing your songs.

Now we’ve returned to all her cisterns,

Her markets, streets, and grounds,

The shofar calls from the Old City,

The Temple Mount resounds.

And from the caves within the rock face,

A thousand suns now glow.

Soon we’ll descend unto the Dead Sea

By way of Jericho.

Yerushalayim, realm of gold

Of hallowed light and burnished bronze

I am a harp – all my heartstrings

Will sing your songs.

Yerushalayim, realm of gold

Of hallowed light and burnished bronze

I am a harp – all my heartstrings

Will sing your songs.

At last my day has come to sing you,

To tie your name with crowns,

But I’m the poorest of your poets,

Your child of least renown.

Because your name is Seraph’s fire

Who’s kiss will singe my soul,

If I forget Yerushalayim,

Who’s cast of purest gold.

Yerushalayim, realm of gold

Of hallowed light and burnished bronze

I am a harp – all my heartstrings

Will sing your songs.

Yerushalayim, realm of gold

Of hallowed light and burnished bronze

I am a harp – all my heartstrings

Will sing your songs.