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Poem

Daniel Oz

BLOOD OF THE POMEGRANATE

One seed after another is picked from the pomegranate
allowing the blood of the fruit to spread like a tablecloth 
   the knife already fallen discreetly on the grass
the children sent to play hide and seek so parents may speak
circle the vineyard running and looking
behind every tree in the grove
    and find no shelter

the pomegranate seeds are infinite
and infinite the grapes in bunches on the vines and these days
spreading through memory like cancerous cells
blossoms fermenting and rotting in nostrils  
fly traps filled with a rising buzz
the sun still and crickets await their watch in vain
this is summer thrown over childhood like sheets of canvas
this is summer concealing childhood
like a handkerchief steeped in chloroform.

דם הרימון

דם הרימון

גַּרְעִין אַחַר גַּרְעִין נִלְקַט מִפֶּלַח הָרִמּוֹן
וְנִתַּן לְדַם הָרִמּוֹן לְהִתְפָּרֵשׂ כְּמוֹ מַפַּת שֻׁלְחָן
          וְהַסַּכִּין כְּבָר נָפַל בַּחֲשַׁאי עַל הַדֶּשֶׁא
הַיְּלָדִים נִשְׁלָחִים לְשַׂחֵק בְּמַחְבּוֹאִים בְּשֵׁם הָאֶפְשָׁרוּת לְדַבֵּר
הֵם מַקִּיפִים אֶת הַכְּרָמִים בְּרִיצָה מִסְתַּכְּלִים
מֵאֲחוֹרֵי כָּל עֵץ בָּחֻרְשָׁה
             וְאֵינָם מוֹצְאִים מַחְבּוֹא
גַּרְעִינֵי הָרִמּוֹן בִּלְתִּי נִדְלִים
וּבִלְתִּי נִדְלִים עִנְּבֵי כָּל אֶשְׁכּוֹל בַּגְּפָנִים וְיָמִים כָּאֵלֶּה
פּוֹשִׁים בַּזִּכָּרוֹן כְּמוֹ תָּאִים סַרְטָנִיִּים
סְמָדַר נִתְסַס וְנִרְקָב בַּנְּחִירַיִם
מַלְכֹּדוֹת זְבוּבִים מִתְמַלְּאוֹת וְהוֹלְכוֹת בְּזִמְזוּם מִתְגַּבֵּר
הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ דֹּם וְהַצִּרְצָרִים דְּרוּכִים לַשָּׁוְא לִקְרַאת מִשְׁמַרְתָּם
זֶהוּ קַיִץ שֶׁנִּזְרָק עַל הַיַּלְדּוּת כְּמוֹ יְרִיעַת בְּרֶזֶנְט
זֶהוּ קַיִץ שֶׁכִּסָּה אֶת הַיַּלְדּוּת
כְּמוֹ מִטְפַּחַת סְפוּגָה כְלוֹרוֹפוֹרְם
23.11.2015
 
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BLOOD OF THE POMEGRANATE

One seed after another is picked from the pomegranate
allowing the blood of the fruit to spread like a tablecloth 
   the knife already fallen discreetly on the grass
the children sent to play hide and seek so parents may speak
circle the vineyard running and looking
behind every tree in the grove
    and find no shelter

the pomegranate seeds are infinite
and infinite the grapes in bunches on the vines and these days
spreading through memory like cancerous cells
blossoms fermenting and rotting in nostrils  
fly traps filled with a rising buzz
the sun still and crickets await their watch in vain
this is summer thrown over childhood like sheets of canvas
this is summer concealing childhood
like a handkerchief steeped in chloroform.

BLOOD OF THE POMEGRANATE

One seed after another is picked from the pomegranate
allowing the blood of the fruit to spread like a tablecloth 
   the knife already fallen discreetly on the grass
the children sent to play hide and seek so parents may speak
circle the vineyard running and looking
behind every tree in the grove
    and find no shelter

the pomegranate seeds are infinite
and infinite the grapes in bunches on the vines and these days
spreading through memory like cancerous cells
blossoms fermenting and rotting in nostrils  
fly traps filled with a rising buzz
the sun still and crickets await their watch in vain
this is summer thrown over childhood like sheets of canvas
this is summer concealing childhood
like a handkerchief steeped in chloroform.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère