The Mole
Nathan Alterman
1940
Not in vain did I vow to be faithful,
not in vain did I tag at your heels.
With the mole I struggled from darkness,
stubborn and under a spell.
You, grief of the nails on my fingers,
you, woe of my head growing bald,
hear me in the cracking of plaster,
in the spreading silence of mold.
In a mirror inlaid with copper
your humble candle sways.
T…
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