Emile Tubiana couldn't find it on my AD list of poems, I didn't either (you can check) so, I am reposting it and see what happens.

To Emile.


After leaving the smoldering burned forest
the Traveler entered another world, green,
like as if God had lost one of His emeralds
or perhaps He just wanted Creation so to be,
fields holding flowers and grass to be grazed
with fat cows and from nectar fat honeybees,
a mountain, one river here, and there a lake
where the Son don’t need to multiply the fish
because on all that plentiful landscape
He made sure that hunger could not exist.

Paradise? Hardly, just another humble valley
of an humble place welcoming wandering feet,
perhaps it has a name but he will never know
being a Traveler is departing, never coming in;
just finding bleaches bones of those that stayed
make to hurry his pace on the valley, through it,
too good to be true , faith will never help dissipate
any doubts you have if in it you don’t believe;
so, keep going Traveler until your hair gets caught
like Saul’s, and hear “why thou persecute me?”

Saw many lambs peaceful grazing, but no shepherd,
was because they were safe of any malignant enemy?
Or all the wolves, the bears and cougars got tamed
in this strange valley where all that is poor…is rich?
But why the silence? Where are all the little birds
that perched on high branches, as he go, will sing?
Shadows of words everywhere, the world is quiet,
are they expecting the Sublime Voice like him?
Only the almost inaudible sound of his many steps
disturb the absence of One playing hide and seek.

The Traveler stopped, thirsty, his dried out tongue
asking him that it was time for him to take a drink,
if he just would genuflect and let his hand to take
from the passing waters of the humble little creek,
he bent over and with hands together like praying
scooped a couple of small waves, on both knees,
thanking for that melting snow somewhere high up
taking pity of tired searching sinner you would think,
in a valley where tempting snakes weren’t allowed
and the growing among so many, of an apple tree.

The Traveler looking around saw the leaves moving,
caressed by the invisible hands of an invisible wind,
maybe he was deaf already after hearing so many lies
or it was the total absence of all truth punishing him…
This wasn’t a peaceful valley full of freedom promises
it was a place without answers silent and oppressive,
looking for God his heart rejoiced because in this place
he would find at last the Lord, but He wasn’t here,
if he were, he should have hear the Sublime Voice
asking as a father would, “why thou are looking for me.