Log Cabin Chronicles
My poems are wrapped in darkness
ELISHA PORAT
Like a migrant Thai worker I pedal my bicycle on the village path. Hunched over, dark, my face covered against the dust. The dogs bark at me, the bees slam into my forehead, and the scent of a distant homeland assaults my nostrils. And like his letters home, silverplating the sweat of his brow, my poems too are wrapped with the darkness that covers the land of my longing.
Translated from the Hebrew by Cindy Eisner.
Elisha Porat writes on a kibbutz in Israel.
Home | Poetry Menu
Copyright © 2005 Elisha Porat |