Snow on the mountains
above the High Places
and above Jerusalem.
Come down O Jerusalem
and return my child to me.
Come O Bethlehem
and return my child to me.
Come high mountains
come winds
come floods in the harbors
and return my child to me.
And even you, O bent bulrush,
thin stalk in the stream,
stringy desert bushes,
return my child to me
as the soul returns to the body
when the eyes open.