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Come, let us hide ourselves in caves,
in stony crevices, in graves
where stretched full length on the hard ground
we lie, backs up and faces down.
We shall not record, we shall not say
why we’ve…
(Written at the end of 1939 in Havana—with thoughts about Poland)
Our poor nest eternally atremble
in the wind.
What will happen now, in bloody storm,
mayn kind?
Now, in bloody storm . . . ?
The…
The trains watch us dreaming
in these charming meadows.
—For we don’t love eating
so much as some fellows!—
Gorging suits humans,
they crave sauce and meat.
Me, I love to chew on
grass, so green…
They have given you French names
and made you captive, my rugged
troublesome compatriots;
your splendid beards, are epicene,
plaster white
and your angers
unclothed with Palestinian hills quite lost…
1. The lives and times of Oedipus and Elektra
began with bloodgrim lust and dark carnality
but I was born next to the Neilson’s factory
where every piece is different, and that’s how I got
my…
My Lord, how stands it with me now
Who, standing here before you
(who, fierce as you are, are also just).
Cannot bow down. You order this.
Why, therefore, I must break
If bend I will not, yet bend I…
Rabbi Levi Yitskhok’s drayman—the one who wore
tales and tfiln as he smeared the wheels
of his wagon with tar—
turns up in the shape of a bunch of Jews
hanging around their houses,
washing the car
(w…
On a day transparent with light
like a landscape by Monet,
my childhood broke away
from a small Jewish town
and glided on ice
blue in the distance—
while a small cloud hovered in me
like a cloud of a…
The sea
tore a rib from its side
and said:
Go! Lie down there, be
a sign that I
am great and mighty.
Go
be a sign.
The canal
lies at my window,
speechless.
What can be sadder
than water
without…
I set my table with metaphor:
the curling parsley—green sign nailed to the doors
of God’s underground; salt of desert and eyes;
the roasted shank bone of a Pascal lamb,
relic of sacrifice and…