28/8/08

Thirty Years



Thirty years.
Is that the name
of a river?
Of whose origin I cant find,
no matter how far I raft.
Of the one that
does not fall into the ocean,
no matter how far it swam.
Of the one that
makes its presence,
though it doesnt exist.
Of the one that doesnt exist,
even if it is there.
Of a wet dream?

Thirty years;
Is that the name
of a boat?
Of the one that floats always,
even in the deepest currents,
For its inside is hollow.
Of the one whose fate is to be afloat,
even in the darkest currents.
Of the one who wants
to turn upside down,
And lament a heart broken cry.
Of a vanity?

Thirty years;
Is that the name
of a tree?
Of the one which doesn't know
the branches, the leaves
and the buds it bears.
Of the one which clenches,
with its tearful roots,
to the sands that drain away.
Of a rheumatism?

Thirty years;anyway,
Would that be the name of a life?
Of a street fight,
which started because it was born;
and continued because it didnt die?

Thirty years - oh god,
What rabits are they!
Of which magicians hat?

*Translated by Simy Nazareth

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