We are looking for the road.
Sometimes a wind blows.
Sometimes the land is thirsty.
The thirst doesn’t cease, it blows
Across the plain, it spins
Through the town, it is in
The bears and in the woodpeckers.
Sometimes we feel it on our skin,
Its caress is fond, sometimes
Streaks of lightning electrify
The sky. Sometimes we are riding
Where the griffin vultures fly,
Sometimes we burrow amidst moles.
This thirst always lives in us,
Whether or not we know, a crack
In the earth, a sinuous
Hint of an aquifer, a scent
Of water, the water pulsing cold,
The kudu with its twisted horns
Drinks, frightened, magnificent, bold.
Yaacov David Shulman