To Chaya Zeltzar

We used to sleep, you remember,

on top of a heap of wheat.

The shame when the first rays woke us

as they smiled through a pitchfork’s teeth.

And as we slept, you remember,

all the streams of light

that watered the fields of the homeland

poured through us in the night.

And as they poured, they blessed us,

renewed us and fulfilled us.

That light is with me still.

‘Only the dead don’t die

Only they are left me, they are faithful still

whom death’s sharpest knife can no longer kill.

At the turn of the highway, at the close of day

they silently surround me, they quietly go my way.

A true pact is ours, a tie time cannot dissever.

Only what I have lost is what I possess forever.