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More poems by Yehuda AmichaiYehuda Amichai | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Yehuda AmichaiBooks by Yehuda Amichai

Yad Mordechai

Yehuda Amichai

Yad Mordechai. Those who fell here
still look out the windows like sick children
who are not allowed outside to play.
And on the hillside, the battle is reenacted
for the benefit of hikers and tourists. Soldiers of thin sheet iron
rise and fall and rise again. Sheet iron dead and a sheet iron life
and the voices all—sheet iron. And the resurrection of the dead,
sheet iron that clangs and clangs.

And I said to myself: Everyone is attached to his own lament
as to a parachute. Slowly he descends and slowly hovers
until he touches the hard place.


Translated by Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld

Added: 9 Jan 2002 | Last Read: 19 Jan 2018 12:13 AM | Viewed: 5982 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/2178/ | Viewed on 18 January 2018.
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