Poem
Esther Raab
Eyes like torches at the gate
Eyes like torches at the gate,this is where we’ll enter,
there are no musicians here,
just a continuous sound humming
like a buzz of grasshoppers
on summer afternoons.
I’ll bury my face in the sand,
like a camel searching out lost routes;
I’ll extend a long leg
beyond the boundaries of being –
two torches at the gate,
and on the brow as prescribed:
“Come, enter.”
Like grasshoppers heavy with juice
we’ll leap inside the gate
where there already winds
a white lonely path.
© Translation: 2002, Institute for the Translation of Hebrew Literature
From: Thistles: Selected Poems of Esther Raab. Translated by Harold Schimmel
Publisher: Ibis, Jerusalem, 2002
From: Thistles: Selected Poems of Esther Raab. Translated by Harold Schimmel
Publisher: Ibis, Jerusalem, 2002
Eyes like torches at the gate
© 1988, Zmora Bitan Publishers
From: Collected Poems
Publisher: Zmora Bitan, Tel Aviv
From: Collected Poems
Publisher: Zmora Bitan, Tel Aviv
Poems
Poems of Esther Raab
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Eyes like torches at the gate
Eyes like torches at the gate,this is where we’ll enter,
there are no musicians here,
just a continuous sound humming
like a buzz of grasshoppers
on summer afternoons.
I’ll bury my face in the sand,
like a camel searching out lost routes;
I’ll extend a long leg
beyond the boundaries of being –
two torches at the gate,
and on the brow as prescribed:
“Come, enter.”
Like grasshoppers heavy with juice
we’ll leap inside the gate
where there already winds
a white lonely path.
© 2002, Institute for the Translation of Hebrew Literature
From: Thistles: Selected Poems of Esther Raab. Translated by Harold Schimmel
Publisher: 2002, Ibis, Jerusalem
From: Thistles: Selected Poems of Esther Raab. Translated by Harold Schimmel
Publisher: 2002, Ibis, Jerusalem
Eyes like torches at the gate
Eyes like torches at the gate,this is where we’ll enter,
there are no musicians here,
just a continuous sound humming
like a buzz of grasshoppers
on summer afternoons.
I’ll bury my face in the sand,
like a camel searching out lost routes;
I’ll extend a long leg
beyond the boundaries of being –
two torches at the gate,
and on the brow as prescribed:
“Come, enter.”
Like grasshoppers heavy with juice
we’ll leap inside the gate
where there already winds
a white lonely path.
© 2002, Institute for the Translation of Hebrew Literature
From: Thistles: Selected Poems of Esther Raab. Translated by Harold Schimmel
Publisher: 2002, Ibis, Jerusalem
From: Thistles: Selected Poems of Esther Raab. Translated by Harold Schimmel
Publisher: 2002, Ibis, Jerusalem
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