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Elisha Porat
Your voice. And how are you? Great, you have made Progress. I saw what you published in the Journal. Yes, quite a few years have passed: And they have left their mark: there are a couple of grandchildren, I will not say how many. They should simply Not be counted. Me, what about me? The same walls And forty-two square meters: the earth is Moving, and everything is cracking up. And at night I am terrified: sudden crashes, the plaster Is peeling, and on the roof bats spit volleys Of fruit mashed with vomit and grain: and if I strain my ear to this silence that comes From your phone, I can very well hear: November 1999 Translated from Hebrew: Nitsa Ben-Ari before her death wrote two poems each day. I, who wrote one poem a year can imagine how her milk gushed from her body: cup after cup cm. after cm. until she was empty. Translated from the Hebrew by Rochelle Mass |