WE STARTED THE JOURNEY HAND IN HAND
We Started the journey Hand in Hand
Every evening I traveled to you by train
I came back to my town each morning,
passionate about your mighty kiss.
By watching you cooking,
Emotions from the old days were coming back to me.
I recalled how I dedicated my time to works of literature
Neglecting the delights of the flesh.
How I filled papers with passages about the refuges of birds,
And archeological discoveries.
How I wrote about the leftover fresco paintings from the gladiator days
And about the longed diamonds are to be worn on a woman’s chest.
Yet, it was as if the melody was deceiving me.
Only then, slowly, did the realization hit me- the destiny wanted me to learn
As I am engraving hearts on the pine tree.
As spring came, our love was crystalizing
I may have imagined that the flowers sensed-
The mirrors of my soul.
How I kneeled in the house of stone, proclaimed passion
To the sound of Iglesias.
How the wine was pouring with restraint
To the sight of the arbutuses.
For some moments, the pain overpowered the light.
Then your eyes connected one thing to the other,
And I collected my existence to the room.
Through the suffocating tremor, I sensed the forgotten words –
“The Arctic bear has big paws
For he won’t sink in the snow.
The beauty of your hair, your lips- that my soul won’t sink.”
In the summer, we were wrapped up in intoxicating heat
While kissing your body, I sculpted my craving-
For the melody won’t leave me
And as I looked at the blue ocean, images came up-
Of how we loved under lamplight and the open book of Genesis,
How I looked at your face in the open field
And thought of the firmament light.
FROM THE LOVE JOURNAL
To the shade of the pine tree in the Misgav stream reservoir
To purify the language from war commands
Listening sensually to line of Cuerpo De Mujer
To the peaceful tulip that opens up slow
Reading love letters-
Of Eloise, Liszt, and Bernard Shaw.
Wrapped in Alterman’s poetry in a hotel room
Fulfilling timetables of making love.
Wearing periodic clothes on the hour
Filling the wall with the candlelight’s shade.
To engrave “passion” on the rocks of the Negev mountains
That blends with the Coracias’ song.
At the summits playing chess with tools made of chocolate
And then, being satisfied with each other’s tools
Like lovemaking after a dispute
THROUGH THE LENGTH OF TIME
In the gushing river at the foot of the mountain
From the neumes at the Notre Dame
To the gleaming gaze of the troubadours
From the rebirth and Machaut’s resonance
To the unpolished pearl
From the harmonies of Rameau and the sonnets of Scarlatti
To the wanderer above the sea of mist.
Through the length of time
And all of its riddles:
Children building sandcastles
And there is strength in the peaceful sight.
Writing a few lines on social media,
The distance between Pardes Hanna and Berlin is like a boy leaving class
To drink from the water cooler.
Recollecting the flight of the white butterfly next to the parked excavators
The gleaming shards that stuck out of the site
Yet to be drawn out for dating.
Thinking about the gushing river at the foot of the mountain
And the noble truths.
Is there a contradiction? Is there not self at core?
Maybe from a different angle,
Like boys looking at the pine tree
One from the foot
And the other from the helicopter’s flight around the woodlands.
Thinking about Abraham’s people
Bidding him farewell
With luxurious gifts.