Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. - Engrved on Statue of Liberty
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand/ A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame/ Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name/ Mother of exiles.
Life's sharpest rapture is surcease of pain
His cup is gall, his meat is tears,/ His passion lasts a thousand years.
Jews are the intensive form of any nationality whose language and customs they adopt.
Still on Israel's head forlorn,/ Every nation heaps its scorn.
Until we are all free, we are none of us free.
Berikan kepadaku mereka yang lelah dan papaYang terbelenggu dan mendambakan kebebasanYang terbanting ke pantaimu, berimpitan lemasBeri aku para gelandangan, dan yang terhempasAkan kunyalakan pelitaku di sisi gerbang emas
Give me your tired, your poor,Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.
I am perfectly conscious that this contempt and hatred underlies the general tone of the community towards us, and yet when I even remotely hint at the fact that we are not a favorite people I am accused of stirring up strife and setting barriers between the two sects.
The children of the prophets of the Lord, Prince, priest, and people, spurned by zealot hate. Hounded from sea to sea, from state to state, The West refused them, and the East abhorred. No anchorage the known world could afford.
No signs of life are here: the very prayers Inscribed around are in a language dead.
The funeral and the marriage, now, alas! We know not which is sadder to recall.
A lady 'twixt two knights' stone effigies, And every day in dusky glory steeps Their sculptured slumber of five centuries.