goes astray and is derailed, and cannot get to the place he longs for. And when he realized that, he rushed back to pick up his belongings and betake himself to the Southern Railroad Station, where you leave for Trieste. And before he went, he bought himself roasted potatoes and roasted chestnuts from vendors in the market, for all day he had had nothing to eat, for his food was packed up in his valise, and his valise was stored in the checkroom.
I
The train wound its way up, and wound its way down. High mountains flew by and snow lay on them, and even though Passover was already past, the snow didn’t budge. And so, Isaac sits and rides through the realm of Austria, that same Austria that rules over eighteen states, and twelve nations are subject to it. One and the same law for the Jews and for the people of the land, their well-being is our well-being, for the Emperor is a Gracious King, he protects all who take shelter with him, Jew and non-Jew alike. Her earth is lush and fertile and the produce of her land is greater than the need of her inhabitants. She is blessed with everything and knows no shortage. One land makes wheat and barley and rye and beans and lentils and oats and corn; and another land makes potatoes and fruit of the orchard. One land makes plums for confiture and Slivovitz, and another land makes hops for beer. One land makes wine and another land makes tobacco and flax, and all lands are full of livestock, animals, and birds. Some give milk and butter and cheese, and some give meat and wool and skins and feathers. One land produces horses, and another land chickens and ducks and swans, doves, and pheasants, and bees make honey and wax, and her lakes and rivers are filled with fish and her mountains with silver and copper and tin and iron and lead for paint and salt mines, and coal and oil. And her forests make wood, and there are high mountains there, covered with eternal snow.
The train skittered between cities and villages, snaked its way between mountains and valleys, lakes, and streams. Then it threaded itself into a long cavity, crept on its bowels and crawled along slowly.
Darkness grows thick and black smoke rises. The red lanterns lighted in the car are wrapped in heavy mist. The wheels wrestle on the dark tracks, and it seems as if it’s not the wheels that are turning but the tracks are moving beneath them, and along with them, the walls of the tunnel are running behind the train, reluctant to part from it. But the train prevailed. No sooner did it get rid of the walls than the tun-nel grabbed it once again. The train roared a dreadful roar that rat-tled the walls of the tunnel and finally it shook off the tunnel and emerged, and a great light suddenly shone and greeted the passengers. And once again, forests are waving their trees and streams are peeping from the valleys and dales. By day the sun illuminates them and at night the moon smiles with light, sweet to the eye and pleas-ing to the heart. And from the high mountains comes a wind like a wind rising from the snow.
Passengers come and passengers go and officials change places with other officials. Some passengers are tall and dignified, wearing green coats and black leather pants and a green hat with a feather, and other passengers wear pink coats and speak a coarse Ger-man tongue that grates on the ear. And they too disappear and oth-ers come, speaking in a singsong. The night has passed now and in the train window a blue strip suddenly appears, stretches and widens with no limit and no end. People who were in the train with Isaac stood up and called out happily, That’s the sea. That’s our sea. Isaac stood up and looked at the sea. That is the sea which is a branch of the sea of the Land of Israel.
I
Dawn broke and the train approached Trieste. All the cars in the train were filled with valiant women, fat and stout, with suntanned faces, loaded with heavy baskets full of chickens and eggs, fruit and vegetables. Most of the
I
The train wound its way up, and wound its way down. High mountains flew by and snow lay on them, and even though Passover was already past, the snow didn’t budge. And so, Isaac sits and rides through the realm of Austria, that same Austria that rules over eighteen states, and twelve nations are subject to it. One and the same law for the Jews and for the people of the land, their well-being is our well-being, for the Emperor is a Gracious King, he protects all who take shelter with him, Jew and non-Jew alike. Her earth is lush and fertile and the produce of her land is greater than the need of her inhabitants. She is blessed with everything and knows no shortage. One land makes wheat and barley and rye and beans and lentils and oats and corn; and another land makes potatoes and fruit of the orchard. One land makes plums for confiture and Slivovitz, and another land makes hops for beer. One land makes wine and another land makes tobacco and flax, and all lands are full of livestock, animals, and birds. Some give milk and butter and cheese, and some give meat and wool and skins and feathers. One land produces horses, and another land chickens and ducks and swans, doves, and pheasants, and bees make honey and wax, and her lakes and rivers are filled with fish and her mountains with silver and copper and tin and iron and lead for paint and salt mines, and coal and oil. And her forests make wood, and there are high mountains there, covered with eternal snow.
The train skittered between cities and villages, snaked its way between mountains and valleys, lakes, and streams. Then it threaded itself into a long cavity, crept on its bowels and crawled along slowly.
Darkness grows thick and black smoke rises. The red lanterns lighted in the car are wrapped in heavy mist. The wheels wrestle on the dark tracks, and it seems as if it’s not the wheels that are turning but the tracks are moving beneath them, and along with them, the walls of the tunnel are running behind the train, reluctant to part from it. But the train prevailed. No sooner did it get rid of the walls than the tun-nel grabbed it once again. The train roared a dreadful roar that rat-tled the walls of the tunnel and finally it shook off the tunnel and emerged, and a great light suddenly shone and greeted the passengers. And once again, forests are waving their trees and streams are peeping from the valleys and dales. By day the sun illuminates them and at night the moon smiles with light, sweet to the eye and pleas-ing to the heart. And from the high mountains comes a wind like a wind rising from the snow.
Passengers come and passengers go and officials change places with other officials. Some passengers are tall and dignified, wearing green coats and black leather pants and a green hat with a feather, and other passengers wear pink coats and speak a coarse Ger-man tongue that grates on the ear. And they too disappear and oth-ers come, speaking in a singsong. The night has passed now and in the train window a blue strip suddenly appears, stretches and widens with no limit and no end. People who were in the train with Isaac stood up and called out happily, That’s the sea. That’s our sea. Isaac stood up and looked at the sea. That is the sea which is a branch of the sea of the Land of Israel.
I
Dawn broke and the train approached Trieste. All the cars in the train were filled with valiant women, fat and stout, with suntanned faces, loaded with heavy baskets full of chickens and eggs, fruit and vegetables. Most of the
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