Your old city spreads up to a hill,
where you lie shattered,
with your temple brought to ruins
by the power of Roman legions
and still you are the place
where God at a time was crowned with thorns
by a multitude of sinful men,
that did not see Him as their own
and now you are divided
between Arab and Jew
and I await the descent
of the New Jerusalem,
a city build by the hand of God,
paved with streets of gold
and much more glorious,
that the one of old.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem