Earth breathes, an ear in it

Attendant to the umbilical of her clods and heart of her deep layers

A soul in the body that will break from her

Flesh swathed in embroidered rain and flood of upholstering.

The secrets of her placenta’s veins

Folded like the path of dough whose rising stopped

And shallowed and abandoned the source of its pinch of snuff

From the flesh embroidered, woven back and forth

And again with nourishment

Blood before it become a man in the channel of the ground

That sends out its children before they’ve sprung, before their rebound

To her moats and the ascent of a dropped heaven

Filaments of an embrace insist on grappling the trunk

In a field of apples all unpicked,

Belly between her knees and gaze at her umbilical clearly forward

Still not looking to the ground with hands outstretched

To the expanse of life’s basin,

As if bearing wings and the first swing upward and to the infinite, to everything

The scarlet cloaks of bodies, human temples within her

She bears herself

And stamps in the soil the depth of her steps

Before the groan comes with her inheritance

I am full but emptiness will still gust through me

I am full but longing will drip a moment before the new mother’s retreat.

Still stepping for two, with deep exhalations and appropriate rest breaks

For the next moment, that will swim out of her

This breath, floating

A body thrown in her to check the embroidery to replace her perforated earth

This living soul will yet peer from beneath, above

From the left under the head that hugs the right

The whole land is filled with them

Whenever she wakes she’ll shake herself

All is hers, shaping shapes there there’s no bound

To her and she breathes from her holes

The soil, decides for the life within

The tongue that in the breath hides within her

Water, life.

Translated by: Atar Hadari

Read Hebrew Version: משגב יולדת