Moon (as translated from the Hebrew of Nathan Alterman)

PoetryVol. 3 No. 2
Written By A. Z. Foreman

Even an old landscape has a moment of its birth.
The strange, impregnable
And birdless skies.
Under your window, moonlit on the earth,
Your city bathes in cricket-cries.

But when you see the path still looks afar
To wanderers, and the moon
Rests on a cypress spear,
You ask in wonder, “Lord! Are all of these still here?
Can I not ask in whispers how they are?”

The waters look at us from their lagoons.
The tree in red of earrings
Stays a silent tree.
Never, my God, shall Thy huge playthings’ sorrow
Be rooted out of me.

Original Hebrew text of “Moon” by Nathan Alterman

This piece was featured in Volume 3, Issue 2. Click here to explore other pieces from this issue.

A. Z. Foreman

A. Z. Foreman is a linguist, poet, short story author and/or translator currently pursuing a doctorate at the Ohio State University. His poetry has been featured in The Threepenny Review and Rattle. His short stories have been featured in Hare's Paw and Neon Origami. His translations from Hebrew, Arabic, Persian and Yiddish have been featured in the Los Angeles Review, Asymptote and Metamorphoses. He wants to pet your dog.

Previous

She Replants
Next

Halcyon