Evening of Roses
Moshe Dor
1957
Evening of roses
Let us go out to the orchard
Myrrh, perfumes, and frankincense
A threshold at your foot.
Night falls slowly
And the rose-wind blows
Let me sing to you in a soft whisper
A song of love.
Dawn the dove murmurs
Your head is full of dew
Your mouth to the morning, rose.
I will pluck it for myself . . .
Translated by
Jeffrey M.
Gree…
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