Sunday, February 19, 2012

Barren

By Rahel (nee Rahel Bluwstein)

Oh, if I had a son, a little son,
With black curled hair and clever eyes,
A little son to walk with in the garden
Under morning skies
A son,
A little son!

I'd call him Uri, little laughing Uri,
A tender name, as light, as full of joy
As sunlight on the dew, as tripping on the tongue
As the laughter of the boy -
"Uri!"
I'd call him.

And still I wait, as mother Rahel waited,
Or Hannah at Shiloh, she the barren one,
Until the day comes when my lips whisper,
"Uri, my son!"

No comments:

Post a Comment

If you include links in your comment the whole comment will likely be deleted as spam. You have been warned! Otherwise, dialoguing with these poems is encouraged.