O brook - Moses ibn Ezra

O brook, whose hurrying waters go

To the far land that holds my friend,

By thee, my greeting let me send;

And if thy waves seem red as blood,

Tell him my tears have stained thy flood;

The mingled drops of eye and heart,

For exile, and for love, they flow—

Exile and love, that rend the frame

Of them who dwell from friends apart.

O brook, bespeak him tenderly;

Fill thou his heart with thought of me,

So that usurper may not claim

My place therein.

Make him to know

That for his ransom I would give

What years I yet may have to live—

Or if my life be all too little worth,

That which I hold most precious upon earth.

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Moses ibn Ezra [Rabbi Moses ben Jacob ibn Ezra, known as Ha-Sallaḥ] (ca. 1055-60 to after 1138) Spain

Translated by Solomon Solis-Cohen

Source: Medieval Hebrew Poetry