Love
Tall deer upon snowy hills,
their silver horns hooked into the moon.
The moon is benevolent.
My mother guards them. Follows them on foot.
Forest wolves must not find their spoor.
She blows from the snow their scent.
My mother has been dead for years,
but her love roams through space
with arms open to the wind.
She lulls the unrest of the streets to sleep,
conjures up a “good eye” the little hares can keep,
and the least worm she calls “child.”
Her love does not let her rest in her grave.
Here she opens her prayer book for the stars
and prays and prays, that God may hear.
In my dream gleams her tear.
-Itzik Manger tr. Sarah Zweig Betsky
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raptorinside said:
Shift + Enter will get you a normal line break.
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notmattsiegel posted this
