And so, despite my promise, I've abandoned you.
You who were so dear to me, I've turned you out.
Eight hundred shekels I slipped in for you.
On March 9th I closed the door and slid the bolt.
Still I don't regret it. No. No. I don't.
Not all the money wasted, nor the hours,
Every day with you was a lesson in delight,
In the total love of now without tomorrow.
And our parting too was a kind of compulsion,
As bitter and cruel a choice as ever was.
What I want is to live. Life, not illusion.
Body and soul happy in their essence.
I do not want tranquillity or mindlessness,
The sweetness to be had from a pill or magic drop.
I gave up hoping, my gentle pleading useless,
Wearied by the long wait for taxis from Lod.
And so – why can I never sleep, tired as I am?
With no whisper of my breathing, are your nights also bad?
Relief, pangs of conscience, and love's fierce flame
Are very soon going to drive me mad.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem