Log Cabin Chronicles
Oh, Andalusia
ELISHA PORAT
Oh my light-washed Andalusia. Oh my sweet Andalusia. Oh my bitter and cherished Palestina. Oh my springtime Palestina. The terrible Lorca already strolls your plazas: As if he had just now emerged from between the delightful pages of Eliaz' delicate and lovely translation. I follow him, enter into his eyes: knives rest under the roses and terror has nestled itself among the palm branches. And the purity of the bridal dress becomes entangled in the rope of the assassin, who is crouched in hiding.
Translated from the Hebrew by Cindy Eisner
Elisha Porat writes on a kibbutz in Israel.
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