I dreamt last night I came on foot
Into a new Jerusalem.
Where men had asphalt proudly put
Now flowered wild tropaeolum.
In lieu of cheaply-built Ramot
Grew poppies, lupins, vetch and flax.
Within the wadi melilot
Replaced the plastic garbage-sacks.
Yet still was Zion home to folk,
As Lifta village testified;
For houses yesterday all broke
Were roofed, revamped and occupied.
And, judging by the children’s words
While played they in the courtyards fair
Replete with plants and chirping birds,
Both Jews and Arabs bided there.
On reaching level ground I met
A homely stable made of wood;
Inside each stall, so neatly set,
A donkey, horse or camel stood.
"Here was the base for bus and coach,"
Thought I, recalling noise and fume.
"So Jaffa Road I now approach:
Two rows of orange trees in bloom."
In pleasant swoon the track I traced
Past gates that led to gardens sweet
And cottages designed with taste.
No vicious dogs attacked my feet.
To check if all was but a farce –
A propaganda exercise –
I then cut south across some grass
Whose buttercups entranced the eyes.
By anthers gilded, gemmed with dew
My legs as light as Mercury’s
With agile strides conveyed me to
A mound enwreathed in cedar trees.
I doubted not this was the site
Of Israel’s rowdy parliament;
But saw I there, to my delight,
No building, guards or government.
Instead, beneath the cloudless sky,
Each yellow head a little sun
Adored by bee and butterfly,
Narcissi bloomed. My mind was won.
Just then I spied a rustic shed
Some yards away inside the wood;
Head Gardener’s Hut, a notice read:
The P.M’s. office – changed for good!
As on I trekked, the wood became
A virgin forest dense though bright;
Great cats, baboons, constrictors tame
In peace drew near and charmed me quite.
A gaudy parrot served as guide,
By squawking loud in comic tone
And fluttering from side to side
Until the exit he had shown.
Those mammals, insects, birds and snakes
Had tried, it seemed, to tell me that
Since Man had learnt from his mistakes
He had preserved their habitat.
When I emerged and turned around
To look again at that great ark,
A freshly-painted sign I found:
This Way to Independence Park.
Which meant the pond that lay afore,
Where choired large frogs with voices rare
And blossomed lotuses galore,
Was nothing less than Zion Square.
Beyond I glimpsed a hillock steep;
Indeed, could scent it in the air.
The City Hall – a compost heap!
And he who crowed on top, the mayor.
Though keen to reach my final goal,
One other place I had to see.
Along a narrow path I stole;
In mind a certain ministry.
With things internal it had dealt,
Including births and marriages.
Instead of dung I shortly smelt
Delightful blooms and foliage.
For on that spot perfumed a bower
Of jasmine, lilac, clematis;
The clerk (whose name was Passion Flower),
Received me with a gentle kiss.
I did not peep into the nest
When heard I tender sighs of joy;
Nor did I flinch when, still undressed,
Emerged a glowing girl and boy.
"Congratulations!" cried the clerk,
"All pairs their love should consummate."
To me she chirruped like a lark:
"You too shall soon be blessed by fate."
The Ancient Town I hence could seek,
And thus confront the very crux.
Due east I found Gehenna creek,
Where water flowed in place of trucks.
Forthwith appeared the city walls
(They had by mist been fully hid);
Wisteria vines, like flowery shawls,
Concealed the stones I’d often chid.
And in the distance on that mount
Where Judas Jesus did betray
Large olive trees, too thick to count,
Gave off a sheen of greenish gray.
As passed I through the fragrant gate,
A lovely orchard met my gaze;
Exquisite fruit, no eye could hate,
Hung down like jewels from leafy sprays.
Without delay I aimed my hand
At what I deemed a juicy pear;
Then uttered loudly, "I’ll be damned!"
A naked woman squatted there.
She winked and stroked her supple thighs:
"Come feel. O pluck! I do not bite;
While he who me tastes never dies."
"But I," I sighed, know wrong from right –
"For, though you seem mere sex to be,
In truth you represent that lust
For means to thwart the Lord’s decree
That flesh must age and turn to dust."
She hissed, then promptly quit my sight;
Enabling me to eat the fruit
Of any tree that choose I might,
Except this one of ill repute.
Papaya, damson, apricot,
Pomelo, cherry, clementine:
Their sap I savoured till I got
More merry than I could from wine.
Next gambolled I along a lane
(The Via della Rosa named);
Thence, never so devoid of pain,
I reached Moriah – now unframed.
Wild roses, woodbine, lathyrus
Upon that verdant hill were rife;
And midst these plants melliferous
Stood, radiant, the Tree of Life.
Quite calmly, yet with reverence,
I picked a fruit and sucked its juice:
Whose taste the greatest eloquence
Would fail to paint, if put to use.
And lo! As if this were a cue,
From out the cave beneath the tree
Where gushed a spring, and lilies grew,
Came Eve herself – now also free.
I took her hand and led her forth
Through lane, fair orchard, portal gay;
Then, bearing west and slightly north,
We to the bower frisked our way.
Jerusalem
6 May 1994