Yehudit Kafri:
Born in 1935, is an Hebrew-Israeli poet and writer. She was born in Israel, in kibbutz Ein Hahoresh, where her parents were among the founders. She has worked as a translator and editor of books related to education and psychology. In recent years she has concentrated on writing poetry and biographies. She has published eight volumes of Hebrew poetry, and she has won several awards for her poetry. She is grandmother of four, and a member in the "Shalom Achsav" peace movement in Israel.
She lives in a little town in the center of Israel.
.
Born in 1935, is an Hebrew-Israeli poet and writer. She was born in Israel, in kibbutz Ein Hahoresh, where her parents were among the founders. She has worked as a translator and editor of books related to education and psychology. In recent years she has concentrated on writing poetry and biographies. She has published eight volumes of Hebrew poetry, and she has won several awards for her poetry. She is grandmother of four, and a member in the "Shalom Achsav" peace movement in Israel.
She lives in a little town in the center of Israel.
.
Yehudit Kafri
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All poems below are by the above mentioned poet and are copyright of the said poet.
Photo by Charlotte G Mair
Charlotte's Web
Translated to the Hebrew by Lami
Translater's Note:
Kovel is a small town in Poland, all its' Jewish were killed in the Halocaust
Translater's Note:
Kovel is a small town in Poland, all its' Jewish were killed in the Halocaust
One Day
One day
A great love will come
Like the love of the rain
That washes the borders away,
That grows
In all rows of wheat, in the Middle East
One day
A long time before the end of days--
And we shall hammer them into peace,
All the words of hate and war
Translated from the Hebrew by Dom Moraes and with Aryeh Sivan
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BEHIND FRONT LINES
translated from the Hebrew by Ann Darr
She has changed her way of life.
Now she can be found in her forest
At almost all hours,
Walking barefoot,
Her hair unbrushed,
Watching the ants, talking,
To the hummingbirds.
I tried to tempt her to return
To us, at least for the nights, or when
She felt cold or afraid. Now
I falter. She looks at me with
Hostile eyes, retreats into
Her palaces of shadow, turns
Into streaks of light and darkness.
No, she doesn't want to come back.
Sometimes she sits for hours, waiting
For the birds to begin
Talking to her. For the ants to
Begin advancing with their loads
Of seeds and kernels. Sometimes
She nervously stares at the place where
The road enters the forest, as if
In spite of everything, she still
Waits for somebody, anybody who
Has been there once with her
And with me and disappeared
At the outbreak
Of war.
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I LOOK AT THE PICTURE
After all those years
His face is like my home
With the corners I clean
And corners where spiders hang,
With cracks of light under the doors
Where pink gekos pass,
With ants as fine as hair
On the pale marble counter in the kitchen
On the way to the honey,
With the dark tea shadows in the cups
And the floor-tiles spotted flower stamens
And the tall walls which watch over
And the roof with flies off.
After all those years
His face is like my home
With the tangled hair,
Textured antique skin etched in wrinkles,
The eyes so wonderfully looking
Outward (bright bright accurately)
And inward (dark)
And the lips that are kissing
Despairingly.
Translated from the Hebrew by Lami
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translated from the Hebrew by Ann Darr
She has changed her way of life.
Now she can be found in her forest
At almost all hours,
Walking barefoot,
Her hair unbrushed,
Watching the ants, talking,
To the hummingbirds.
I tried to tempt her to return
To us, at least for the nights, or when
She felt cold or afraid. Now
I falter. She looks at me with
Hostile eyes, retreats into
Her palaces of shadow, turns
Into streaks of light and darkness.
No, she doesn't want to come back.
Sometimes she sits for hours, waiting
For the birds to begin
Talking to her. For the ants to
Begin advancing with their loads
Of seeds and kernels. Sometimes
She nervously stares at the place where
The road enters the forest, as if
In spite of everything, she still
Waits for somebody, anybody who
Has been there once with her
And with me and disappeared
At the outbreak
Of war.
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I LOOK AT THE PICTURE
After all those years
His face is like my home
With the corners I clean
And corners where spiders hang,
With cracks of light under the doors
Where pink gekos pass,
With ants as fine as hair
On the pale marble counter in the kitchen
On the way to the honey,
With the dark tea shadows in the cups
And the floor-tiles spotted flower stamens
And the tall walls which watch over
And the roof with flies off.
After all those years
His face is like my home
With the tangled hair,
Textured antique skin etched in wrinkles,
The eyes so wonderfully looking
Outward (bright bright accurately)
And inward (dark)
And the lips that are kissing
Despairingly.
Translated from the Hebrew by Lami
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