ISRAEL

porat_el@einhahoresh.org 

Fall 1999

Now in the fall the curlews assemble
In the orchards, and the gray conies
Are already changing their colours, while I
Too rub on my heart the cream
That protects from summer heart, to keep it
Safe on wintry days as well.
And in my room which darkens in the cloudy light
I go up to the wall: I tear off papers,
Pictures and reminders of the last two thousand years.
I stand in front of the empty rack
And once more take a pledge:
No bungling now, you treacherous body,
You have to bear me still
All of me, into the next thousand.

As Things Stand

Nice of you to phone, it was good to hear
Your voice. And how are you? Well done, you've
Come on. I saw what you'd had published in the
Magazine. Too true, quite a few years have passed since then:
And they've had their way, a few grandchildren,
I won't say how many. You're really not supposed
To count. And what about me? the same walls
And forty-two square meters. The ground
Shifts, and round about everything is cracked, and at night
I tremble: sudden fractures, the plaster
Flakes, and on the roof bats spew out bursts of
Fruit squishy with vomit and seeds. And if
I tune my ear to the silence that comes
From your telephone, I can clearly hear:
Droves of yearnings galloping away to the distant hills.

all poems translated from Hebrew by Asher Harris

"Poetry is a sudden process
of verbal compression..."

Elisha Porat is the author of "The Messiah of LaGuardia", a collection of stories.
Visit his homepage at: http://artvilla.com/porat/ home page.
See a collection of his short stories on The-Manhattanite at:
http://www.The-Manhattanite.com 

© Copyright 2000,  Elisha Porat.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.