Tallit with Stripes from the Book of Judges

There was this place famous for its dye, the most
Prized of which was blue. The fabrics often came out
Fuchsia or marine or morocco or bruise or lavender.
The fences and furrows were a brownish blue.
Storms and berries were the exact colors of each other.
And every warrior among the returning wears
A prey of divers colours of needlework
A certain occupied barn was especially purple
Because a little girl there knew all about adult love affairs.
The grown woman there knew a cold, vengeful rage.
One time the girl hanged herself from a violet rafter
When she had had about all she could take. The woman
Climbed up and lifted the body from the noose.
She sprinkled it liberally with a clear liquid. Then
A little repentance entered the woman’s heart,
But too late: the girl had already come back to life.
In a perfect fury they fought, tooth, nail, and shuttle,
And with the most marvelous results. Once the mad
Shredding was over and done with, two piles of threads,
Verily heaps of skeins, beautiful, lay.
The pair set to work. Girls and women elsewhere
Likewise set up their looms, stretched the warp
Good and tight, and their cloth was in no way inferior.
But nothing lasts forever, especially preparation.
Sad come the days of greatest relief and happiness
When men’s mothers strain at festooned windows,
Of divers colours of needlework on both sides,
Meet for the necks of them that take the spoil.
The fences and furrows were a bluish brown.
Storms and berries were the exact opposite of white.
The fabrics came out fuchsia, morocco, or marine,
Bruise, lavender, or maroon. But the most prized was blue.
There was a city, famous for its dye.