This poem was penned by Meir Ettinger in Hebrew, translated and posted to Arutz7 on 17 May, 2016. For a true appreciation of the ikar, if one can, one should try to read it in Ivrit.
You know it’s not easy for us to be heard
The media hardly allows us a word
And he who dares say the media is wrong,
is ground into bits by their teeth and their tongue.
They have a system that is oiled to perfection
One schemes, one directs, then they pen a confession
And he who dares question their machinations
Will find out that his past needs “investigations.”
Still we try to explain a thing or two,
In the hope that you’ll realize it all rings true–
No I don’t mind repeating our story to you,
I’m in prison for months, there’s nothing to do.
If you’ve listened to all the distortions of truth,
Then you shudder at hearing the words, “Hilltop youth”
Someday we will tell you about the machine,
That processes facts and decides what they mean.
But for now, here is a message that we hope will hit home,
(We’re writing our story in rhyme, like a poem).
The hilltop youth–you won’t hear in the news
Have hearts filled with love for their fellow Jews
And when they noticed the emperor’s clothes were awry,
They couldn’t, like others, just let him pass by.
In their young minds, many questions arose,
When they saw that the emperor lacked more than his clothes.
True, they had no proper contacts, methods and means
But were willing to try–after all they are teens.
The truth they were missing, that is what they sought,
To fill the lacunae in what they’d been taught
To them, life was simple, they needed no frills
They went out to find truth, on the bare rocky hills.
Down below was erudition, with all degrees listed
Could that be the reason so much had been twisted?
Only when young can this search be undertaken
We could step back from the crowd and try to awaken.
Families murdered on roads, in our land? We asked why
We know it’s preventable if you really try
Perhaps someone up there has a head that is hollow
That doesn’t keep him from leading–but why do you follow?
And when no one could give us a good explanation
It deepened the fear for the state of our nation
And led us to feeling of isolation
If matters so crucial are covered in plaster,
It’s no wonder foundations crack all the faster.
Then many fine youth came to join and do good
Feel the pain of the nation–as all of us should
The establishment shunned them and on them heaped blame
And everyone else joined to rush in the game.
The youth on the hilltops were stunned by this ploy
Why the unleashed aggression, the need to destroy?
How could adults abrogate their own rules
And behave toward their children in ways that were cruel?
At first they had gazed on the children in wonder
But when truth posed a threat, they tore them asunder
For they know by themselves what we know very well
That power and honor is what makes their hearts swell.
We must have stumbled on some great mystery
Maybe someone is trying to rewrite history
Otherwise there is no way to fathom
What led them down to this moral chasm.
How turn evil into good and good into evil?
They gathered against us as if we’re the devil
Why create a new story every few days?
When we’d watch the news, we’d be simply amazed.
True, we do dream of ending our people’s disgrace
Hoping one day to see the Temple in its rightful place
We believe that all of Israel is our eternal possession
And want our leaders to say no to secession.
This is what Jews prayed for throughout the years
Through gas and fire and blood and tears.
So why do they treat us as if we’re deranged?
What Jewish aspiration has changed?
Why did they arrest us with such needless violence?
And leave us to vanquish in cells of silence?
Police made a mockery of the law
And when they caused us pain, broad smiles we saw.
Why does terror continue despite Tzahal forces
While the world keeps silent and its media endorses?
Our leaders with stopping the terror just toy
But command the army, “Hilltop settlements destroy!”
The police did not emerge out of the blue
With every new government, it’s resurrected anew
Once again the British White Paper comes to pass
As each new government hopes that their power will last.
If someone notices that the emperor is sans his attire
He becomes a threat to be extinguished like fire
All the media join to burn the witch at the stake
With all of the threats and wild claims they can make.
You may feel that I am too rash in penning these words
But what we have here is a theater of the absurd.
Just one last question allow me to bring:
If my being free is the threatening thing
Maybe something very fundamental is the matter
If I, a singer at heart, am deemed the Mad Hatter.
Alright, enough, I will silence my breath
Lest jailers administratively detain this bad poet to death.