to Yehudah Amichai (1924 – 2000)

2009-09-23T20:47:00.000-07:00

http://www.ithl.org.il/amichai/

Offering

Who will speak now for the tortured people?
Who will translate the shifting of the ancient stones,
the steady drumbeat of the waterfalls?

They are alone now;
surrounded by sand,
surrounded by death.

The date growers have stopped their singing;
they pick silently, gathering the remains of your soul
into their canvas bags.

Who knew like you knew?
Who felt like you felt?
There is no hope.

Your tears replenished Yam Hamelech.
Now, it sends its waters up to Heaven
leaving bitter monuments -
witnesses of despair beyond political agendas,
shrines to futile lamentation.

The fresh water pump groans in grief,
the Kineret pulls back its banks.
Even the fickle wind has chosen stillness,
so the palm trees cannot whisper Kaddish.

And I, with one eye following a cloud,
the other - following an ant,
balance your book on one fingertip,
and my beloved on the other nine - an offering.

MR 11/03

Marmar's Murmurs and Musings

to Yehudah Amichai (1924 – 2000)