.................................
A Cracked Statuette
.................................

In the summer of seventy-nine,
Sheltered in the shade, on a step in Market
Street, in the shop of a Christian Arab,
While my hand was stroking the halo of hair
Of a graven statuette --
A startled voice suddenly broke out,
A young announcer begging, pleading: hurry, whoever is able,
Whoever is near, run to the tower
Of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher --
Through the lattice you may know her:
Wrapped all black but her hair is fair,
And her car still pulses below her.
And when I arrived -- I was late --
With those who were called to her aid,
The helpers, the radio was screaming,
And all the city was frozen, holding its breath --

Already she lay there, stretched out in the square:
Innocent, beautiful, and wrapped all about in the shining
Radiance of a cracked statuette.

 
translated from the Hebrew by Asher Harris, 1999.

.................................
Elisha Porat
.................................

 

Copyright © Elisha Porat
October 1999

...several poems in this room by Antti Luode...
candy
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