The stream no longer feeds the pool
The rain does not fall the lightning Has ceased, the whole forest is black, The land is dim, the birds don’t sing At dawn, the rats overrun the field, The beavers are confused, they do not Build, eggs do not hatch, vines Pull down trees, the mushrooms rot, Lead leaches into the water, animals Stagger, a man comes along, understands Nothing, stamps his feet, waves His spear, curses, waves his hands, Lives on mushrooms, rips bark From the trees, throws it to The ground, a wildcat snarls, Lopes into the woods, through The mud, but those who were driven away Will return, the hostile tribes decay, Then, in the light of a returning sun I shall speak and tell the night and the day.
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Yaacov David Shulman
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September 2019
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