Yehoram Gaon - Landmarks

I'm grateful not to know any fallen soldiers or victims of terror, and I hope it will stay that way, but I always find the abrupt change from Memorial Day to Independence Day too difficult and too sudden. I understand the idea that they died so we can live but I just can't force myself to party and have a good time when just a few hours ago I was listening to songs about early death and heartbroken lovers. I'd rather spend the evening at the end of Memorial Day listening to quiet Israeli songs that celebrate life and save the fireworks and massive celebrations for the next night, but that's just me.
Life in Israel can be tough but it often seems to be the perfect place to be a kid. Where else are you given independence at such a young age to walk home from school with your friends? Growing up, it was the best part of the day, when friendships blossomed and anything was possible. Maybe children here are given so much freedom because of the military future that awaits them when they turn 18. So for now, they can take their time on their way home.

Lovely translation by Rachel Jaskow from the blog Elms in the Yard:

Does anyone remember, does anyone know
the way to my home?
Let anyone who hears my voice
come home with me.
There are feathery clouds above
and stubble at my feet,
and the pealing of the magical bell
that always watches over me.

Somewhere out there, along the road,
somewhere out there sings a bell.
From somewhere out there, it tells me: Return home
at the right time.

In case I have forgotten the way
that I knew for so many years,
Here and there, at the side of the road,
landmarks have been left for me.
Here is an arrow pointing outward,
drawn in white chalk, as if to say:
Go, follow the wind
starting two and a quarter paces from here.

Somewhere out there, along the road,
somewhere out there sings a bell,
From somewhere out there, it tells me: Return home
at the right time.

At the roadside is a quarry
shaded by a tree,
and a well or two
as a sign and a landmark for me.
A nanny goat, black as night,
browses among the bushes.
Trails like these
are only for the strongest hikers.

Somewhere out there, along the road,
somewhere out there sings a bell.
From somewhere out there, it tells me: Return home
at the right time.

I am not alone on the road
that leads to my home.
One or two friends
are walking home with me.
And in the light of the sun, as it sets
to the sound of pealing bells,
They will be able to read
all the landmarks for me.

Somewhere out there, along the road,
somewhere out there sings a bell.
From somewhere out there, it tells me: Return home
at the right time,
the right time.