Poem
Navit Barel
THIS STORY
You’re directing your gaze at something. It’s not clear. At my barehead reflecting your very own sun and mood. Maybe. Come
steal this light. It looks like you know how. Speak. Lost your tongue?
Or maybe at my forehead. Marked black sheep the two of us.
Do you feel raging in your bowels
in the gaping spaces? The bird can sing
but it’s quiet. People prayed for a downpour
not this pathetic patter.
© Translation: 2013, Adam Seelig
THIS STORY
© 2011, Navit Barel
From: Mamash
Publisher: Am Oved, Tel Aviv
From: Mamash
Publisher: Am Oved, Tel Aviv
Poems
Poems of Navit Barel
Close
THIS STORY
You’re directing your gaze at something. It’s not clear. At my barehead reflecting your very own sun and mood. Maybe. Come
steal this light. It looks like you know how. Speak. Lost your tongue?
Or maybe at my forehead. Marked black sheep the two of us.
Do you feel raging in your bowels
in the gaping spaces? The bird can sing
but it’s quiet. People prayed for a downpour
not this pathetic patter.
© 2013, Adam Seelig
From: Mamash
From: Mamash
THIS STORY
You’re directing your gaze at something. It’s not clear. At my barehead reflecting your very own sun and mood. Maybe. Come
steal this light. It looks like you know how. Speak. Lost your tongue?
Or maybe at my forehead. Marked black sheep the two of us.
Do you feel raging in your bowels
in the gaping spaces? The bird can sing
but it’s quiet. People prayed for a downpour
not this pathetic patter.
© 2013, Adam Seelig
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère