Poem
Zali Gurevitch
HOME & CAMP
I’m not in any campI live at home
Not in a camp
But even at home I’ve made myself a sort of camp
The rooms are spread out like tents
And we move about between them
Sit in a tent
Especially in the kitchen tent
And at night sleep each in a tent of his own
D in his and H and I in ours
At my desk too
What is this if not a camp
It’s quiet now
But like headquarters
The telephone works
The computer works
The printer works
Full of papers and books, and files
And letters
And drafts, and what not
And everything jumbled and ordered in equal measure
This morning for some reason
The pile scattered
There’s no other way
All day I tried to pile it up again
(It turned cold
I lit the stove in the room)
I sat by the fire
© Translation: 2002, Zali Gurevitch with Peter Cole and Gabriel Levin
From: Cultural Studies: Critical Methodologies Vol. 2 (2002)
From: Cultural Studies: Critical Methodologies Vol. 2 (2002)
HOME & CAMP
© 2002, Zali Gurevitch
From: Days
Publisher: Am Oved, Tel Aviv
From: Days
Publisher: Am Oved, Tel Aviv
Poems
Poems of Zali Gurevitch
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HOME & CAMP
I’m not in any campI live at home
Not in a camp
But even at home I’ve made myself a sort of camp
The rooms are spread out like tents
And we move about between them
Sit in a tent
Especially in the kitchen tent
And at night sleep each in a tent of his own
D in his and H and I in ours
At my desk too
What is this if not a camp
It’s quiet now
But like headquarters
The telephone works
The computer works
The printer works
Full of papers and books, and files
And letters
And drafts, and what not
And everything jumbled and ordered in equal measure
This morning for some reason
The pile scattered
There’s no other way
All day I tried to pile it up again
(It turned cold
I lit the stove in the room)
I sat by the fire
© 2002, Zali Gurevitch with Peter Cole and Gabriel Levin
From: Cultural Studies: Critical Methodologies Vol. 2 (2002)
From: Cultural Studies: Critical Methodologies Vol. 2 (2002)
HOME & CAMP
I’m not in any campI live at home
Not in a camp
But even at home I’ve made myself a sort of camp
The rooms are spread out like tents
And we move about between them
Sit in a tent
Especially in the kitchen tent
And at night sleep each in a tent of his own
D in his and H and I in ours
At my desk too
What is this if not a camp
It’s quiet now
But like headquarters
The telephone works
The computer works
The printer works
Full of papers and books, and files
And letters
And drafts, and what not
And everything jumbled and ordered in equal measure
This morning for some reason
The pile scattered
There’s no other way
All day I tried to pile it up again
(It turned cold
I lit the stove in the room)
I sat by the fire
© 2002, Zali Gurevitch with Peter Cole and Gabriel Levin
From: Cultural Studies: Critical Methodologies Vol. 2 (2002)
From: Cultural Studies: Critical Methodologies Vol. 2 (2002)
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