Showing Results 61 - 70 of 226
Who cares if eternity won’t know me,
if no one ever watches my footsteps—
but now, right now, when hearts are burning,
I come with fists in my song.
Of course I’d like to sing myself away,
to cry…
My heart is with your dews, homeland,
At night, above fields of nettles
And to the scent of cypresses and wet thistle
A hidden wing shall I spread out.
Soft sand-cradles are your roads
Spread out…
With gentle fingers
The rain is softly
Playing sad melodies
On the black instrument of night.
We are sitting in the darkness,
Each in his own house
(The children have fallen asleep)
Listening…
Behold I have not plowed nor have I planted,
I have not prayed for the rain.
And suddenly, see! My fields have grown
Sun-blessed grain instead of thistle.
Is it the aftergrowth of ancient produce,…
On these night fields of pure silence
My feet tread, light and sure, as upon
A homeland’s holy soil from the day
My star led me here.
How loving are the night’s wings! My eye
Discerns every bush here…
In this detail from the left side of a pithos (storage jar) from Kuntillet Ajrud, two ibexes are eating the flora of a schematic tree, all set above a striding lion. These common motifs are typically…
The sunset grew bold: it insisted on staying
In the Red Sea at night, when the innocent pink
Young fawns delicately make their way
Downhill to the palace of water to drink.
They leave their silken…
Oh prairie, endless prairie,
The eyes of the herdsmen look out:
Not a bush, not a thistle, not a tree,
A new wind comes to the desert.
Over forlorn expanses the song of the herdsmen
Will sound and…
Shepherds had dug a well in the field
but herds of others encircled it.
They left, roaming the mountain trails,
the shepherds who had dug it.
Oh, oh, oh! Desert oases . . .
the lanes of the herd…
[ . . . ] 2. When you stroll along the riverbank, you find an entire plain filled with reeds and bulrushes, all of which are standing erect, one adjacent to the other, and none of them…