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From his ivory bed
The king rises at night—
Alone, without guard or escort,
Makes his way to the ancient wall
Climbing to the top of the highest tower.
There, at the window
One can see the dead, gray…
On the Lord’s hills, white with lustrous light,
Far from rich palaces reeking of wine,
Drunk on the night and sidereal sadness,
The King dreams in self-imposed exile.
Below, mid the wheat, the…
. . . And in darkness of night, without dagger or bow,
On a light steed King Saul arrives at ‘Ein Dor.
And in one of the houses a dark light appears,
The squire softly…