A man doesn’t have time in his life To have time for everything. He doesn’t have seasons enough to have A season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes Was wrong about that. A man needs to
There is a street where they sell only red meat And there is a street where they sell only clothes and perfumes. And there Is a day when I see only cripples and the
And we shall not get excited. Because a translator May not get excited. Calmly, we shall pass on Words from man to son, from one tongue To others’ lips, un- Knowingly, like a father
On a little hill amid fertile fields lies a small cemetery, A Jewish cemetery behind a rusty gate, hidden by shrubs, Abandoned and forgotten. Neither the sound of prayer Nor the voice of lamentation
A precise woman with a short haircut brings order To my thoughts and my dresser drawers, Moves feelings around like furniture Into a new arrangement. A woman whose body is cinched at the waist
The first rain reminds me Of the rising summer dust. The rain doesn’t remember the rain of yesteryear. A year is a trained beast with no memories. Soon you will again wear your harnesses,
Memorial day for the war dead. Add now The grief of all your losses to their grief, Even of a woman that has left you. Mix Sorrow with sorrow, like time-saving history, Which stacks
If I forget thee, Jerusalem, Then let my right be forgotten. Let my right be forgotten, and my left remember. Let my left remember, and your right close And your mouth open near the
They amputated Your thighs off my hips. As far as I’m concerned They are all surgeons. All of them. They dismantled us Each from the other. As far as I’m concerned They are all
“What kind of a person are you,” I heard them say to me. I’m a person with a complex plumbing of the soul, Sophisticated instruments of feeling and a system Of controlled memory at
Forgetting someone is like forgetting to turn off the light in the backyard so it stays lit all the next day But then it is the light that makes you remember.
Near the wall of a house painted To look like stone, I saw visions of God. A sleepless night that gives others a headache Gave me flowers Opening beautifully inside my brain. And he
Do not accept these rains that come too late. Better to linger. Make your pain An image of the desert. Say it’s said And do not look to the west. Refuse To surrender. Try
The little park planted in memory of a boy Who fell in the war begins To resemble him As he was twenty eight years ago. Year by year they look more alike. His old
After you left me I let a dog smell at My chest and my belly. It will fill its nose And set out to find you. I hope it will tear the Testicles of