Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Gili Haimovich

WORLD OF MIRRORS

We live in a world of mirrors,
our house has two terraces.
The front faces the street,
the rear to the yard.
Hard to tell heads from tails
and hard to tell which is more likeable.
It seems that in one live happier people,
younger than us who play with dolls.
In the rear adults crawl,
cleaning crumbs from the floor.
In the middle, everyone sleeps.
When you’re asleep you’re asleep,
no need to be happy
or to cheer up the sad.
On a kind of pendulum, tedious but swaying, we live.
Between the front with its delights on display,
and the rear where we crawl like cats on all fours,
we scratch, we wail.
In the end we get down
and kneel,
we hang on the highchair with the bib,
we pray.

עולם המראות

עולם המראות

אֲנַחְנוּ חַיִּים בְּעוֹלַם הַמַּרְאוֹת,
יֵשׁ לָנוּ בַּיִת עִם שְׁתֵּי מִרְפָּסוֹת.
הַקִּדְמִית פּוֹנָה לָרְחוֹב
וְהָאֲחוֹרִית לֶחָצֵר.
קָשֶׁה לְהַבְדִּיל מִי רֹאשׁ וּמִי זָנָב
וְקָשֶׁה לָדַעַת אֶת מִי מֵהֶן יוֹתֵר תֹּאהַב.
נִרְאֶה שֶׁבְּאַחַת חַיִּים אֲנָשִׁים שְׂמֵחִים יוֹתֵר,
הֵם קְטַנִּים מֵאִתָּנוּ וּבְצַעֲצוּעִים מְשַׂחֲקִים.
בָּאֲחוֹרִית הַמְּבֻגָּרִים עַל הָרִצְפָּה זוֹחֲלִים,
בִּדְלֵי אֹכֶל מְנַקִּים.
כֻּלָּם בַּתָּוֶךְ יְשֵׁנִים.
כְּשֶׁיְּשֵׁנִים אָז יְשֵׁנִים,
לֹא צְרִיכִים לִהְיוֹת שְׂמֵחִים
וְלֹא לְשַׂמֵּחַ עֲצוּבִים.
בְּמִין מְטוּטֶלֶת, חַדְגּוֹנִית אַךְ מְטַלְטֶלֶת, אֲנַחְנוּ חַיִּים.
בֵּין הַמִּרְפֶּסֶת הַקִּדְמִית בָּהּ מַפְגִּינִים שַׁעֲשׁוּעִים
לְבֵין הָאֲחוֹרִית, בָּהּ הוֹלְכִים עַל אַרְבַּע כְּמוֹ חֲתוּלִים
שׂוֹרְטִים, מְיַבְּבִים.
לְסִיּוּם כּוֹרְעִים
עַל בִּרְכַּיִם,
בַּכִּסֵּא הַגָּבוֹהַּ עִם הַסִּנָּר נִתְלִים
מִתְפַּלְּלִים.
Close

WORLD OF MIRRORS

We live in a world of mirrors,
our house has two terraces.
The front faces the street,
the rear to the yard.
Hard to tell heads from tails
and hard to tell which is more likeable.
It seems that in one live happier people,
younger than us who play with dolls.
In the rear adults crawl,
cleaning crumbs from the floor.
In the middle, everyone sleeps.
When you’re asleep you’re asleep,
no need to be happy
or to cheer up the sad.
On a kind of pendulum, tedious but swaying, we live.
Between the front with its delights on display,
and the rear where we crawl like cats on all fours,
we scratch, we wail.
In the end we get down
and kneel,
we hang on the highchair with the bib,
we pray.

WORLD OF MIRRORS

We live in a world of mirrors,
our house has two terraces.
The front faces the street,
the rear to the yard.
Hard to tell heads from tails
and hard to tell which is more likeable.
It seems that in one live happier people,
younger than us who play with dolls.
In the rear adults crawl,
cleaning crumbs from the floor.
In the middle, everyone sleeps.
When you’re asleep you’re asleep,
no need to be happy
or to cheer up the sad.
On a kind of pendulum, tedious but swaying, we live.
Between the front with its delights on display,
and the rear where we crawl like cats on all fours,
we scratch, we wail.
In the end we get down
and kneel,
we hang on the highchair with the bib,
we pray.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère