[bad word] upon your return sweet bird,
From the warm countries to my window -
How my soul longs to hear your pleasant voice
in winter when you leave my dwelling.

Sing, tell, dear bird,
From a land of wondrous distance,
are the troubles and suffering great
there too in the warm and beautiful land?
Does the dew descend as pearls on Mount Hermon?
Does [bad word] down and fall like tears?
And how is the Jordan and its clear waters?
And how are the mountains, the hills?

And my brothers that are working
And planting with tears will take
The harvest with Joy

My tears have dried up, all hope is fled
Yet there is no end to my grief,
Greetings upon your return, my dear bird,
Raise up your voice and sing!