The Book

The Book

A Proposal for a National Meditation for Beginners
Haifa in Winter
Revenge
I And They
Days Walk among Us Like Spies
Words to a Picture
The Book
Our Blood Is the World"s Petrol
Patches
Harmony

The universe has vanished. Only the sun
still remains. In silence
it wakes the emptiness.
Thus Mr. Silberman dreamt 1944.

An undestroyed past pieced with patches
of forty two years,
after a life-day in the Shoah* film.
That night the dream returned—

Water came back to life in a cloud
and fire in ash again revived.
Unfinished death
wrapped him like a wounded coat.
He woke mid-nightmare.

And with confident clarity, slowly put on
his Treblinka clothes, shaved with care,
made his bed, opened the gas, and
peaceful and sure went back to bed.

*Shoah = Holocaust

Translated by Karen Alkalay-Gut

AuthorAsher Reich
2018-08-21T17:23:15+00:00 June 4th, 2006|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 48|0 Comments