A Longing
On Memorial Day I surrender to a longing for my dead. The wail of the siren shrieking above the Eucalyptus tops is sounded from afar as if it were a private whistle-code between me and them. As if presently they'll rise shake off the dust, lean their bikes against the fence and whistle back to me. As if time gathers again into the funnel of the electric siren: it goes down through iron and grounds the awful wailing deep in the earth. Translated from Hebrew by Tsipi Keler
Memorial Day
On Memorial Day I take-off to the woods. Again I'm moved. Through the smoke I observe the earth veiling its shoulders. As they gather before me from the rocks I command: You're all released to memories. I turn aside and to you I whisper: This is it, folks, they're trapped. They can't escape. Their will and testament they've left with us. Translated from Hebrew by Tsipi Keler
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