You advise me that we are going


I organise a demonstration in protest

But go as you command.

Suddenly a fence, suddenly a partition,

I learn to address you all over again:

You’re you.

There’s time and space to return again

But I’m washed up without you,

Trying to fright the shadows from my head

Looking to see logic

I awake.

Choosing to wander again

I choose wandering

Discover my power’s by consent.

We’re both exiles and I await – till you permit

Return, till you rise from the spring.


I advise you that we were going

Into exile by holding our breath.

I arrange myself, wait

And tell you: I have one land, for you – a strange land.

Access by foot is partial, security depressed,

And the plateau is punitive.

I’m forced to beg for love. Hide,

Hide clinging to the walls,

Haemorrhaging the longing, mourning long,

I sit in my straits

Bare my eyes and gaze, terrible things before me just now.

I look for a trace of what was once routine,

Find it: suddenly a surplus bowl

Right in the middle of the table. A fence stands

But I am not entirely


We both shout new words of calm,

A new thought becomes apparent

The exile of us two: yours is one, mine another.

We know where the loss was and roam,

Walk passionately, fondling the air

And were like lunatics all of those days,

And were like ones asleep.

Published in Mashiv HaRuach  29. vl. and in Makor Rishon , September 2009.

Translated by: Atar Hadari

Read Hebrew version: ערגה