Log Cabin Chronicles
Childish Valor
ELISHA PORAT
A slender switch in my hand I set out for the field: To decapitate the thornbushes: flowering oyster thistles and prickly milk thistles, delicate of down. Oh, the intoxicating power of a dreaming child. With an imaginary sword I strike about me; The summer globe thistles, globeless Now, and the pinkish Horse thistles. The upraised switch Whistles, and with sharp thrusts Head are severed. And only The path, blood soaked, Along with has passed the staff Of my strength and valor, only It remains behind me.
Suddenly green and tempting me back: crowned in valor, sated by glory, an ear deafened by fanfare, come cruel wild child, and join bath time at the children house.
Translated from the Hebrew by Cindy Eisner
Elisha Porat writes on a kibbutz in Israel.
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