THE POEM ON THE EVE OF THIS DAY Poem by Avoth Yeshurun

The sages say, that at the time the Syrian-African Rift
occurred, the celestial inhabitants were not
up-to-date. Each man was engaged
at his trade. In grinding hatchets. In splitting beasts.

Ancient humanity and land of the axe.
And when those wanted some change on the earth
they have to do it by putting to sleep.
After that they waken the earth.


Like they did to me once in isolation in narcosis
under the plywood and the roof
in Beilinson Hospital: "Yeshurun, you underwent an operation!"
And here I am. Yom Kippur.