AT THE START OF THE EVENING Poem by Nachoem M. Wijnberg
AT THE START OF THE EVENING
When you drifted ashore on a beach
a girl looked at you,
as if she was being asked a question,
not by you,
but by someone far away.
You wished her a marriage
in which she and whoever is with her
try to answer together.
You walked down the street
and walking ahead of you were two marriage
brokers.
What were they
discussing?
How badly
their last two customers
would need them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/17/2024 9:16:04 PM # 1.0.0.1119
