Years my father nostalgic for my mother.
She'd set the Shabbat table
Guess the white cloth the flu vegetable land
Let the fine flour, put the meat
Put the tomatoes and garlic
She could cook.
It tasted feed came from us
And so would put us as cookies Yu Yu Tonisaiot
Sweet biscuits dipped in liquid dam
Rosewater would add my grandmother if she had been allowed to
But here in my mother would make the salads very thinly
To unite us at the Shabbat table.
I did not learn a foreign language parents
My parents speak their language changes
Request a sweet Polish father
Tunisian mature mother
And I did not learn of them a foreign language
Only Hebrew sucked mother that it was not her mother tongue
She spoke with her sisters in French
Jewish and jargon that far.
In the kitchen I did not learn a foreign language