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Won't You See

Won't you see that I am carried to you on a sea of death
Not on the Styx – that noble river in a marble inferno
No Charon leads the raft
On my cheeks still lie the curls of the brother
In whose death I live
His breath is the wind in my hair
Can't you hear, in our throats' echoes, the silence
The cry that does not relent, does nit release –
Of the heads
From whose number a hand was left
To knead our lives

Can't you see
Lining up behind our faces
The trains that have carried us
On a journey ordained from then and there
Their whistle is our canopy
A pillar of smoke leading us
To the far ends of the wind


(Translated from the Hebrew by the author, with Peter Cole, from Ota Sha'a or "that Very Hour", 1981. Translation first published in Partisan Review, April 2001.)

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