In the quiet nursing home in Jerusalem
in the old neighborhood of "Beit Yosef"
my good readers wait for me:
old men weaned of joy
shuffle their feet on tiled floors,
and the women, parched and withered,
resemble the rusty pails
once used to draw water from wells.
Once a week they come out
to the terrace to observe my weakness,
as I totter on the pavement below:
"Come join us,"
they call with compassion,
"We`ve been long exiled from our lives,
but you, where are you rushing to?"
©1999 Elisha Porat
Translated from Hebrew by Tsipi Keler