פגישה לאין קץ

A Meeting Without End

For you have stormed on me, forever I shall play you (as playing music)

To avail I shall besiege you with a wall, to avail I shall erect doors! My lust is to you and to me your garden And to me my body is dizzy, lost for hands

To the books only you are the sin and the judge. Sudden forever, my eyes on you are struck, When in a battled street, bleeding raspberry sunsets, You will bundle me in sheaves.

Don’t plead to those who withdraw from approaching. All alone I shall be a nomad in your lands. My prayer seeks nothing, My prayer is one and its saying: here you are.

Till the ends of sadness, till the springs of night, In long empty iron streets, My god commanded me to carry to your babies, From my great poverty/suffering almonds and raisins.

It's good that our heart your hand sill caches, Don’t pity it when its tired of running, Don’t let it darken as a room without the stars left outside.

There a moon it burning hot as a kiss from a (lady) cook. There a damp sky thunders its cough, There a sycamore will drop its branch for me as a Handkerchief. And I shall bow to it and pickup.

And I know that to the sound of the drum. In deaf and sorry/hurting commerce cities. One day I will fall injured head to pluck. Our smile between the chariots.