אליפלט [Elifelet] [English translation]

Let us sing a Song of Elifelet.

Let’s recite it together out loud.

How when he was a tyke, a young fellow —

A real klutz, a schlimazel, avowed.

All the neighbors and folks they would prattle,

“He’s plain hopeless,” upon him they’d pounce.

“Elifelet’s a boy without mettle,

Without character, even an ounce.”

If you grab from his hands a new plaything,

He just sits there agape with a grin.

Yes he’s smiles, not knowing the reason

What a smile’s for or when to begin.

And the neighbors they all looked askance,

That a pin drop would cause him to dance,

Without questioning “why’ or “wherefore”,

No “ifs”, or “buts”, or “maybe”,

No “when to begin” or “what for?”

No “how much” or “no, that’s crazy.”

As if lost in a musical score

With a melody clear as a bell hit.

If we ask you “What good is that for?

What a child you are, Elifelet!”

One night battle erupted, a firefight

And the men of the company heard

That the forward position was cut off,

Ammunition all gone, not a word.

Elifelet, he felt some compulsion

To replenish his comrades’ supply.

Not an ounce of much character in him,

He crawled straight toward the firing line.

When he made it back, addled and injured,

He collapsed to the floor, with a grin.

Yes he smiled, not knowing the reason

What a smile’s for or when to begin.

And his friends in their hearts cast a glance –

Yes a pin drop would cause him to dance,

Without questioning “why’ or “wherefore”,

No “ifs”, or “buts”, or “maybe”,

No “when to begin” or “what for?”

No “how much” or “no, that’s crazy.”

As if lost in a musical score

With a melody clear as a bell hit.

If we ask you “What good is that for?

What a child you are, Elifelet!”

Yes that night in a battlefield helmet

Gabriel, the Archangel, came down,

Near the resting head of Elifelet,

In the outpost, on top of a mound.

He said: “Have no more fear, Elifelet,

Take thee courage, for I do pronounce

In the Heavens we’re proud and we’re jealous,

Of your character, less than an ounce.”

It’s a simple song, yet quite astounding,

Without middle, beginning, or end,

Let us sing it, not knowing the reason

What a song’s for or where to begin.

• Artist:Berry Sakharof