Literature and Poetry/
Yom Kippur

Haya Vered

End of Summer

Summer has passed

The chain of clouds

Already above

Are ready to fall

And the rain

Is just over the horizon.

 

The world is confused

But the heart still listens closely

To the grief of the eye

when the summer has passed

And from the ground is pulled

The white flame of the squill.

 

In the gardens

The soil is already counting its offspring

In the granaries

The harvest is accumulating

In the fields

In the granaries

The sheep are growing their wool

In the vineyards

The grapes are shedding their leaves

In the furrows

Line by line the earth is browning

In the heights

The nights are already above

In the gloom

The sound of the wind is attacked.

Because the summer has passed

Because the spread above

Is the hidden sail of winter:

The days are shortening

Longing and grief like rain…

And the farmer watches

How in the cold morning,

The summer changes season,

And the furrowed earth

Where His blood in hers.

Is waiting for the seeds and rain.

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