Ramat Yonatan. Originally published in the Kibbutz Ramat Yonatan daily paper, Barama, 18 Elul 5768, 18 September 2008
How dry thorns on the roads
Still remember tired late summer
Stalk stubbles are getting lower
And the seeds are spread by the passing wind.
And among the woman’s curves in the morning dew
Carries far in a bride’s eyes,
Burn on the altar of words
Our exhaustion – night storm.
It seems we swept away without expectations,
To innocence and preciousness, without which
We will not be forgiven for all the mistakes
And all the vows whose time has come.
Soon, new shoots,
With hopes in the colors of the rainbow,
Will awaken to a great height in the rocky ground
To the listener of the wind and bringer of the rain.
And the aroma of spices already ambushes
At your window at the house next door,
Before the approaching holiday mean
You will go the prepared table.
Together we gather the deeds
And the signs that remained like prey,
For those leaving and those entering
And the forgiveness of the summer than has ended.