Still night. I am still bound
to the XXII letters
as it fettered. Only thickened silence like this
can light me a single word
gleaming in its many sounds.
I see it down to the bone,
to the end of the root.
It suddenly doubles.
It is now two.
My voice’s one ear
hears night’s shadows
creeping along Hebrew grammar.
Before me on the page, three words.
In a moment there will be more.
Now the blue scent of moon
can be seen through them. Thus was I made
aware of the dark’s inaudible
pain. Sun of the night. The words glow.
Now you emerge from your sleep to me
and come into the poem.
Translated by Vivian Eden