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Would you, mama, believe if I told
That everything here is changed into gold,
That gold is made from iron and blood,
Day and night, from iron and blood?
—My son, from a mother you cannot hide—
A…
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…
Snow has fallen, with no light. A month
has gone by now or two, since autumn in its monkish cowl
brought tidings my way, a leaf from Ukrainian slopes:
“Remember it’s wintry here too, for the…
I always thought
I had been here before.
Each year of my patched-up life
I mended the fabrics
of my decrepit, tattered world.
In memory I recognized faces and smiles,
even my father and mother…
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.
…
O mother
what have I left out
O mother
what have I forgotten
O mother
farewell
with a long black shoe
farewell
with Communist Party and a broken stocking
farewell
with six dark hairs on the wen of…
And Hannah prayed:
My heart exults in the Lord;
I have triumphed through the Lord.
I gloat over my enemies;
I rejoice in Your deliverance.
There is no holy one like the Lord,
Truly, there is none…
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…