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The rinsed fences dry themselves in the wind.
The kneaded black earth turns softer under my feet.
Soaked soil, tousled and wanton wind,
What more can I want from you today?
It seems to me that I’ve…
Contributor:
Peretz Markish
Places:
Kyiv, Russian SFSR (Kyiv, Ukraine)
Date:
1919
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The cheeks collapsed and the eyes half-shut,
My mother listens as her knees sigh:
The whole morning under the winter sky
She ran about to every market.
So let us now at the gate of the wall
Sleep…
Contributor:
Chaim Grade
Places:
Tashkent, USSR (Tashkent, Uzbekistan)
Ashgabat, USSR (Ashgabat, Turkmenistan)
Stalinabad, USSR (Dushanbe, Tajikistan)
Date:
Date unknown, 20th century
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When I came back, he was gone.
My mother was in the bathroom
crying, my sister in her crib
restless but asleep. The sun
was shining in the bay window,
the grass had just been cut.
No one mentioned…
Contributor:
Ira Sadoff
Places:
Waterville, United States of America
Date:
1975
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When Jephthah set out for the road
He did so full of happiness and joy.
He had a daughter, a solitary cypress,
Her visage fairyborn; two…
Contributor:
Aaron ben Mashiaḥ
Places:
Isfahan, Ottoman Empire (Isfahan, Iran)
Date:
1692
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I saw my father drowning
In surging days.
His weak hand gave a last white flutter
In the distance—
And he was gone.
I kept on alone
Along the shore,
A boy still,
With small, thin legs,
And have…
Contributor:
David Vogel
Places:
Vienna, First Austrian Republic (Vienna, Austria)
Date:
1923
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How is a song born?
Like a baby.
At first it hurts
But then, it comes out
And everyone is happy
And suddenly—
How wonderful!
It’s walking
All on its own.
How is a song born?
Like…
Contributor:
Yehonatan Geffen
Places:
Tel Aviv, Israel
Date:
1978
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You’ve grown
but not
grown up
You’re ripe
as earth is raw
where roots probe deep
Like all roots
you probe
in deep darkness
Translated by Marcia Falk.
Contributor:
Malka Heifetz Tussman
Places:
Berkeley, United States of America
Date:
1974
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In winter, the rain beat down on the roof.
She said white was her favorite shade.
At hand he then gave her, his heart filled with joy,
A bunch of daffodils, fragrant and moist.
She laughed: “My dear…
Contributor:
Uri Assaf
Places:
Date:
1963
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In history class
I draw a Latin-American moustache
On Titus Aspasianus;
Miriam, who under her flannel shirt
Is beginning to show development,
Is making vulgar contours
Onto the sculpture of his bust…
Contributor:
Haim Be’er
Places:
Date:
1970
Subjects:
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The trains watch us dreaming
in these charming meadows.
—For we don’t love eating
so much as some fellows!—
Gorging suits humans,
they crave sauce and meat.
Me, I love to chew on
grass, so green…
Contributor:
Blanche Bendahan
Places:
Paris, France
Date:
1948