My proud walls stand against the sky,
	They stand up strong and free and high.
Their very stones themselves do shout,
	Towards the heavens they proclaim:
I am the City, let me out,
	Jerusalem, it is my name.
Then from my open gates, a torrent,
	A multitude of women, men,
A horde of people, both strong and bent,
	Like frightened foxes from their den.
They hurry from their homes to meet
	This man, they lay palms at his feet.
Like waves aroused before the breeze,
	They rush to see this Son of Man,
Breaking branches from my trees
	To use as one tremendous fan.
And now he comes, he comes to me,
	Upon an ass, a humble donkey.
His face untroubled by the sight
	Of eyes that should hold only peace,	
And yet in some there is no light,
	Their malice to him will not cease.
They look at him, they loathe and hate,
	yet he does not show fear at all,
He has already seen his fate.
	Till then, the crowd to him will call,
And so, the masses he does bless,
	Yet looks at me with great sadness

                                       1975

	And he said to them:
	I tell you that if these should stay silent
	The stones themselves would cry out
	And as he drew near, and caught sight of the city, 
	He wept over it, and said:
	Ah, if thou too couldst understand, 
	Above all in this day that is granted thee,
	The ways that can bring thee peace!
	As it is, they are hidden from thy sight.
	The days will come upon thee when thy enemies
	Will fence thee round about, and encircle thee,
	And press thee hard on every side, and bring down
	In ruin both thee and thy children that are in thee,
	Not leaving one stone of thee upon another;
	And all because thou didst not recognize
	The time of my visiting thee.
					Luke 19:40-48