Alabar quiero a Dio que es grande de loores, que creó para el hombre muchas maneras de flores. Y todas son diferentes en color y en olores, sobre todas las mejores es el almizcle romí. Sobre todo es de alabar la’kel Hai, Sur Olamim. Ajuntáronse las flores loando al Dio a una, que las creó tan donosas, lindas, sin tacha ninguna. Dicen berajot en ellas como dicen en la luna, así dice cada una: no hay más mejor que mí. Sobre todo es de alabar... Saltó la rosa y dijo: - Todas queden a un lado; a mí me toca alabar a Dios grande y abastado, que de mí hacen shorope, tambien azúcar rosado, en aguas soy alabada: la cara lavan con mí. Sobre todo es de alabar…. Respondió la clavellina: - Más grandes son mis famas, que soy mesa de novias y me llevan en las palmas y me mandan por presente a todas las lindas damas, me quieren como sus almas, todas se adoran con mí. Sobre todo es de alabar… Respondió el azumbel: - No me tengáis desechada; mi color, color de cielo y en aguas soy alabada; cuántos chicos con mí sanan, más mucho soy estimada: como hombre enamorado se enamoran de mí. Sobre todo es de alabar… Ahí habló el almizcle una habla graciosita: - A mí me toca alabar, aunque me ves tan chiquita, que de mí hacen ĝamires, me comen con cucharitas y toda la gente rica se refrescan con mí. Sobre todo es de alabar… Respondió la albahaca: - Como mí no hay tal, Que yo soy verde y menuda, mi color muy natural; a mí me crecen árboles como barriles de metal; como el guisado sin sal ansí son las rosas sin mí. Sobre todo es de alabar… La azucena quiso cantar una cantica galana: - A mí me toca alabar, que soy rosa de ventana; mi aceite hace crecer cabello a las galanas y mi olor es muy bueno que se desmayan por mí. Sobre todo es de alabar… Ahí habló el jazmín, con su gargantita alta: - A mí me toca alabar porque en mí no hay falta: mi cuerpo - cuerpo de pino, mi color - de oro y plata y cuando el sol sale salen rayares en mí. Sobre todo es de alabar…
I want to praise God who is great in praises, who created for man many kinds of flowers. And all are varied in color and in scents, above all the best one is the spikenard. Above all, to be praised is the Living God, Rock of Worlds. The flowers gathered praising God as one, who created them so graceful, lovely, without any flaw. They say blessings in themselves as one says over the moon, and each one says: there is none better than me. Above all, to be praised... The rose jumped and said: – Let all step aside; it is my place to praise the great and praised God, for they make syrup from me, also rose sugar, for my waters I am valued: they wash their faces with me. Above all, to be praised… The carnation replied: – Greater are my fames, for I am to the bridal table carried in palms they send me as a gift to all the lovely ladies, they love me as their souls, they all adorn with me. Above all, to be praised… The hyacinth replied: – Do not cast me aside; my color is sky color, and in my waters I am praised; how many children heal through me, I am greatly valued: like a man in love they fall in love with me. Above all, to be praised… There spoke the violet a very graceful speech: – It is my place to praise, though you see me tiny, for they make preserves from me, they eat me with little spoons and all the wealthy people refresh themselves with me. Above all, to be praised… The basil replied: – There is none like me, for I am green and small, my color very crystal-like; branches grow from me like barrels of metal; as food without salt, so are roses without me. Above all, to be praised… The lily wanted to sing a charming little song: – It is my place to praise, for I am the window rose; my oil makes grow the hair of fair ladies and my scent is so good that they faint because of me. Above all, to be praised… There spoke the jasmine, with its little high throat: – It is my place to praise for there is no fault in me: my body — body of pine, my color — of fine gold and when the sun rises rays come out of me. Above all, to be praised…
Jerusalem National Sound Archives placement: Yc 931/1
This copla, which serves a paraliturgical function, is traditionally sung at home around the table during the holiday of Tu Bishvat. It offers a charming portrayal of various flowers, each one extolling its own virtues—its beauty, usefulness, and grace—as it makes the case for being the one chosen to bless God. In the recurring refrain, however, all the flowers are affirmed as equally beautiful and equally worthy of praising their Creator.
The text was composed by Rabbi Yehuda Cal’i and, although it was frequently printed in presses throughout the Ottoman Empire, it now survives only in oral tradition—specifically among the Sephardic communities of northern Morocco.
This website was created by Orit Perlman with the collaboration and blessings of Dr. Susana Weich-Shahak in 2025