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Elisha Porat
A SHORT FAREWELL LETTER


To my Hebrew, my own sundered, grated Hebrew:
There, in my forgotten, distant childhood
You were placed inside my ear, imprinted
In my finger, poured upon my neck.
Now, goodbye: I am sinking, forgotten
You go on, not turning your head.
Fare you well, my bell-wether.
Now lock on, my distant one, to
The neck of a tender boy, weigh heavily
On the heart of my successor.


translated from the Hebrew by Asher Harris

copyright 1999; all right reserved by author




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