Carobs by Elisha Porat

Do you remember, in Juara, at the end
of my platoon leaders course, in that rainy
December? I took
the wet military blanket
on my shoulders, and you were covered
with the sleeveless cape that I drew
for you from my belt? Do you remember
the gleaming chalky rocks?
The whistle of the wind passing
through the trees? And how we roamed
all night, looking for a piece
of dry ground? Do you remember
how we were happy
anyway, on awakening, with first
light, when embracing we stumbled on
a broken stair, in front of your door,
and we stood suddenly flooded with the thick
flowing aroma of the flowering carobs?

translated by Cindy Eisner

Comments

[Robert]

Enjoyed.

[aurora]

As always, one of my favourites.

[Felicia]

Excellent!