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Birds are drowsing on the branches.
Sleep, my darling child.
At your cradle, in the field,
A stranger sits and sings.
Once you had another cradle
Woven out of joy.
And your mother, oh your mother
W…
Trees cry for rain
And mountains for air.
So cry my eyes
For you, dear Mother;
So cry my eyes
For you, dear Mother.
I turn and I ask what will become of me.
In Polish lands
I am destined to die.
…
This evening I met the daughter of the poet Haim Guri
I think, somewhat important in this country,
And she’s a twenty-year-old welfare officer.
At first we just spoke of average stuff,
But then when…
I too wish to marry a desperate housewife
Blur my way into her house with the evening light
The aromas of salad and an omelet cooking
To live in the shade of her becoming
To have her raise me like…
Traveling and returning. In the
Dirt paths of her forehead
Railroad trains anchor, yellow
Carriages locomotive flowers
In the fields of liberated Europe
Traveling and returning. In the shadows
Betw…
I left his house
Of my own volition.
In order to build him a house
Of my own volition.
But it seems my father
Remained solitary
And neglected
Not of his own volition.
I was moving towards my…
When I came back, he was gone.
My mother was in the bathroom
crying, my sister in her crib
restless but asleep. The sun
was shining in the bay window,
the grass had just been cut.
No one mentioned…
Immediately I grabbed the man, gripped him, pressed him to me with all my stomach muscles, the way a carpenter, after applying the metal vise to the cupboard that suddenly collapsed, twists and…
I won’t be around forever, Mother said.
One day I’m going to die, so I might
as well nag you a little bit more,
while I have the chance. And when
I’m dead you’ll have to rely on someone else
to tell…
Had I fastened
The cradle on a rafter,
And rocked it—and rocked it.
My little son, my Yankl.
But the house has vanished
Into a fiery dome,
How then can I rock
My little son, my own?
Had I…