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The School Where I Studied

I passed by the school where I studied as a boy

and said in my heart: here I learned certain things

and didn't learn others. All my life I have loved in vain

the things I didn't learn. I am filled with knowledge,

I know all about the flowering of the tree of knowledge,

the shape of its leaves, the function of its root system, its pests and parasites.

I'm an expert on the botany of good and evil,

I'm still studying it, I'll go on studying till the day I die.

Yehuda Amichai

The School Where I Studied

I passed by the school where I studied as a boy

and said in my heart: here I learned certain things

and didn't learn others. All my life I have loved in vain

the things I didn't learn. I am filled with knowledge,

I know all about the flowering of the tree of knowledge,

the shape of its leaves, the function of its root system, its pests and parasites.

I'm an expert on the botany of good and evil,

I'm still studying it, I'll go on studying till the day I die.

Yehuda Amichai

Seven Laments For The War-Dead

Mr. Beringer, whose son

fell at the Canal that strangers dug

so ships could cross the desert,

crosses my path at Jaffa Gate.

He has grown very thin, has lost

the weight of his son.

That's why he floats so lightly in the alleys

Yehuda Amichai

Tourists

Visits of condolence is all we get from them.

They squat at the Holocaust Memorial,

They put on grave faces at the Wailing Wall

And they laugh behind heavy curtains

In their hotels.

They have their pictures taken

Together with our famous dead

At Rachel's Tomb and Herzl's Tomb

Yehuda Amichai

Let The Memorial Hill Remember

Let the memorial hill remember instead of me,

that's what it's here for. Let the par in-memory-of remember,

let the street that's-named-for remember,

let the well-known building remember,

let the synagogue that's named after God remember

let the rolling Torah scroll remember, let the prayer

for the memory of the dead remember. Let the flags remember

those multicolored shrouds of history: the bodies they wrapped

Yehuda Amichai

Yad Mordechai

Yad Mordechai. Those who fell here

still look out the windows like sick children

who are not allowed outside to play.

And on the hillside, the battle is reenacted

for the benefit of hikers and tourists. Soldiers of thin sheet iron

rise and fall and rise again. Sheet iron dead and a sheet iron life

and the voices all—sheet iron. And the resurrection of the dead,

sheet iron that clangs and clangs.

Yehuda Amichai

Temporary Poem Of My Time

Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west,

Latin writing, from west to east.

Languages are like cats:

You must not stroke their hair the wrong way.

The clouds come from the sea, the hot wind from the desert,

The trees bend in the wind,

And stones fly from all four winds,

Into all four winds. They throw stones,

Yehuda Amichai

The Little Park Planted

The little park planted in memory of a boy

who fell in the war begins

to resemble him

as he was twenty eight years ago.

Year by year they look more alike.

His old parents come almost daily

to sit on a bench

and look at him.

Yehuda Amichai

The First Rain

The first rain reminds me

Of the rising summer dust.

The rain doesn't remember the rain of yesteryear.

A year is a trained beast with no memories.

Soon you will again wear your harnesses,

Beautiful and embroidered, to hold

Sheer stockings: you

Mare and harnesser in one body.

Yehuda Amichai

On Rabbi Kook's Street

I walk without this good man—

A streiml he wore for prayer

A silk top hat he wore to govern,

fly in the wind of the dead

above me, float on the water

of my dreams.

I come to the Street of Prophets—there are none.

Yehuda Amichai

Pity, We Were A Good Invention

They amputated

Your thighs from my waist.

For me they are always

Surgeons. All of them.

They dismantled us

One from another. For me they are engineers.

Pity, We were a good and loving

Invention: an airplane made of man and woman,

Yehuda Amichai

What Kind Of A Person

"What kind of a person are you," I heard them say to me.

I'm a person with a complex plumbing of the soul,

Sophisticated instruments of feeling and a system

Of controlled memory at the end of the twentieth century,

But with an old body from ancient times

And with a God even older than my body.

I'm a person for the surface of the earth.

Low places, caves and wells

Yehuda Amichai