Poem

Ronny Someck

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Original language

SONNET OF THE AIR NARCISSUS

Night showers wash the asphalt dragons,
water residues traced in puddles
and at four in the morning the language of myth
touches the edge of sidewalks.

At this pace flames will soon erupt from the throat
and street will turn against street.
The red light will be the light of a paper lantern
and nightingales will soar from Chinese legends to those of tomorrow.

Only, among the heart’s rocks
(of he who can fall in love
with the spreading spot

between the nail’s coastal plain and the fingers of a girl he
barely knows) will
the pink-frozen night of the air narcissus blossom.

© Translation: 2006, Gabriel Levin

SONNET OF THE AIR NARCISSUS

© 1996, Ronny Someck
From: Gan ‛eden le-orez
Publisher: Zmora Bitan,

Ronny Someck

Ronny Someck

Ronny Someck’s poetry, which has both a local and a universal flavor, has the ability to affect readers from all over the world. Ronny Someck was born in Baghdad in 1951 and immigrated to Israel with his family as a child. He has a BA in Hebrew Literature and Jewish Philosophy, has worked as a counselor for street children, and currently teaches literature in a secondary school as well as runni...

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SONNET OF THE AIR NARCISSUS

Night showers wash the asphalt dragons,
water residues traced in puddles
and at four in the morning the language of myth
touches the edge of sidewalks.

At this pace flames will soon erupt from the throat
and street will turn against street.
The red light will be the light of a paper lantern
and nightingales will soar from Chinese legends to those of tomorrow.

Only, among the heart’s rocks
(of he who can fall in love
with the spreading spot

between the nail’s coastal plain and the fingers of a girl he
barely knows) will
the pink-frozen night of the air narcissus blossom.

© 2006, Gabriel Levin
From: Gan ‛eden le-orez

SONNET OF THE AIR NARCISSUS

Night showers wash the asphalt dragons,
water residues traced in puddles
and at four in the morning the language of myth
touches the edge of sidewalks.

At this pace flames will soon erupt from the throat
and street will turn against street.
The red light will be the light of a paper lantern
and nightingales will soar from Chinese legends to those of tomorrow.

Only, among the heart’s rocks
(of he who can fall in love
with the spreading spot

between the nail’s coastal plain and the fingers of a girl he
barely knows) will
the pink-frozen night of the air narcissus blossom.

© 2006, Gabriel Levin

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