Psalm

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof…
How shall we sing the LORD’S song in a strange land?

Blessed are those ones,
able to adjust
and not to remember.
Because their lives are easier.
Blessed are those ones,
not to cup in their hands,
a crucified,
distant motherland.
Because the whole world belongs to them.
Blessed are those ones,
whose souls never stop
 to ring like harps, even on a strange land.
Because their voices are harmonious with the convention.
Accursed the exile,
enforced by the weapons of the stronger ones.
Three times accursed the exile,
chosen by ones’ free will.

Copyright 2006 - Jonka Hristova
Translated by Zdravka Vladova-Momcheva