Elisha Porat
　

Oh, Andalusia

Oh my light-washed
Andalusia . Oh my sweet
Andalusia . Oh my bitter
and cherished Palestina. Oh my
springtime Palestina. The terrible Lorca
already strolls your plazas:
As if he had just now emerged
from between the delightful pages of
Eliaz' delicate and lovely translation.
I follow him, enter
into his eyes: knives rest
under the roses and terror has nestled itself
among the palm branches. And the purity
of the bridal dress becomes entangled in the rope
of the assassin, who is crouched in hiding.


Bloody Aquifer

In this late spring, in the time before
the first summer fruits, I cruise
the roadways idly.
My mortal eye sees:
stalks of withered hollyhock and clusters of
dill, among the blossoming vegetables.
But with my other eye I
see in your deep basins,
Oh my beloved ravaged land,
blood gathering and draining: from under
the scorching subsoil, your bloody
groundwater surfaces, rises and floods.
　

A Sudden Stop

Yes, I too was once embraced
by warm legs, and a loving
body opened itself to me, a passionate
cheek was pressed to my mouth,
soft, damp and salty with tears.
And there was a time when I walked around
half drunk, as if I too
was a permanent guest: at
the table set with wine, flowers,
the shining marble of the ballroom of life.

And then, as I was pushed backwards
down the corridor, and a distracted orderly navigated
my stretcher, I was placed flush against
the elevator wall, that creaked croaked
shook everything, as my body trembled.
And once again, sweating, I saw flashes
of electric light, floors moving upwards
doors downwards, and I grew anxious there:
without wine, without flowers or marble,
I waited shrunken, withdrawn,
as I absorbed the shock of the sudden stop.


On A Coastal Road

Yes, I too was once embraced
by warm legs, and a loving
body opened itself to me, a passionate
cheek was pressed to my mouth,
soft, damp and salty with tears.
And there was a time when I walked around
half drunk, as if I toowas a permanent guest: at
the table set with wine, flowers,
the shining marble of the ballroom of life.

And then, as I was pushed backwards
down the corridor, and a distracted orderly navigated
my stretcher, I was placed flush against
the elevator wall, that creaked croaked
shook everything, as my body trembled.
And once again, sweating, I saw flashes
of electric light, floors moving upwards
doors downwards, and I grew anxious there:
without wine, without flowers or marble,
I waited shrunken, withdrawn,
as I absorbed the shock of the sudden stop.

South Lebanon, 1985

- all poems translated from the Hebrew by Cindy Esiner