Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Agi Mishol

GEESE

GEESE
 

My math teacher Epstein    
liked to call me to the blackboard.
He said that my head was good only for hats,
and that a bird with brains like mine
would fly backwards.
He sent me to tend the geese. 

Now, at a distance of years from his sentence,
when I sit under the palm tree
with my three beautiful geese,
I think that math teacher of mine was farsighted.
He was right,
 
because nothing makes me happier
than to watch them now
falling upon bread crumbs,
joyful tails wagging,
or freezing for a moment
under beads of water
when I spray them
with a hose,
holding their heads erect,
bodies stretched back
as if remembering faraway lakes.
 
Since then my math teacher has died,
together with the math problems
I could never solve.
I like hats
and always at evening
when the birds return to the tree
I look for the one flying backwards.
 
 

GEESE

אווזים
 

אֶפְּשְטֵיין, הַמּוֹרֶה שֶלִּי לְמָתֵימָטִיקָה,
אָהַב לְהוֹצִיא אוֹתִי לַלּוּחַ.
אָמַר שֶהָרֹאש שֶלִּי מַתְאִים רַק לְכּוֹבַע.
אָמַר שֶצִּפּוֹר עִם שֶכֶל כְּמוֹ שֶלִּי
הָיְתָה עָפָה אֲחוֹרָה.
שָלַח אוֹתִי לִרְעוֹת אָוָזִים.
 
עַכְשָיו, בְּמֶרְחָק שָנִים מִן הַמִּשְפָּט הַזֶּה,
כְּשֶאֲנִי יוֹשֶבֶת תַּחַת הַדֶּקֶל
עִם שְלוֹשֶת הָאֲוָזִים הַיָּפִים שֶלִּי,
אֲנִי חוֹשֶבֶת שֶאוּלָי הִרְחִיק אָז לִרְאוֹת,
הַמּוֹרֶה שֶלִּי לְמָתֵימָטִיקָה,
וְהַצֶּדֶק הָיָה עִמּוֹ,
 
כִּי אֵין מָה שֶמְשַמֵּחַ אוֹתִי יוֹתֵר
מֵאֲשֶר לִרְאוֹת אוֹתָם כָּעֵת
עָטִים עַל הַלֶּחֶם הַמְּפוֹרָר,
מְכַּשְכְּשִים בִּזְנָבָם הַשָּמֵחַ,
קוֹפְאִים רֶגַע דּוֹם
מִתַּחַת לִרְסִיסֵי הַמַּיִם
שֶאֲנִי מְתִיזָה עֲלֵיהֶם
מִן הַצִּינוֹר,
זוֹקְפִים אֶת רֹאשָם וְגּוּפָם
נִמְתַּח אָז כְּזוֹכֵר 
אֲגָמִים רְחוֹקִים.
 
מֵאָז מֵת כְּבָר הַמּוֹרֶה שֶלִּי לְמָתֵימָטִיקָה
וּמֵתוּ גַם בְּעָיוֹתָיו שֶאַף פַּעַם לֹא עָלָה בְּיָדִי
לִפְתוֹר.
אֲנִי אוֹהֶבֶת כּוֹבָעִים,
וְתָמִיד בָּעֶרֶב
כְּשֶהַצִּפָּרִים חוֹזְרוֹת אֶל תּוךְ הָעֵץ,
אֲנִי מְחַפֶּשֶת אֶת זֹאת שֶעָפָה אֲחוֹרָה.
Close

GEESE

GEESE
 

My math teacher Epstein    
liked to call me to the blackboard.
He said that my head was good only for hats,
and that a bird with brains like mine
would fly backwards.
He sent me to tend the geese. 

Now, at a distance of years from his sentence,
when I sit under the palm tree
with my three beautiful geese,
I think that math teacher of mine was farsighted.
He was right,
 
because nothing makes me happier
than to watch them now
falling upon bread crumbs,
joyful tails wagging,
or freezing for a moment
under beads of water
when I spray them
with a hose,
holding their heads erect,
bodies stretched back
as if remembering faraway lakes.
 
Since then my math teacher has died,
together with the math problems
I could never solve.
I like hats
and always at evening
when the birds return to the tree
I look for the one flying backwards.
 
 

GEESE

GEESE
 

My math teacher Epstein    
liked to call me to the blackboard.
He said that my head was good only for hats,
and that a bird with brains like mine
would fly backwards.
He sent me to tend the geese. 

Now, at a distance of years from his sentence,
when I sit under the palm tree
with my three beautiful geese,
I think that math teacher of mine was farsighted.
He was right,
 
because nothing makes me happier
than to watch them now
falling upon bread crumbs,
joyful tails wagging,
or freezing for a moment
under beads of water
when I spray them
with a hose,
holding their heads erect,
bodies stretched back
as if remembering faraway lakes.
 
Since then my math teacher has died,
together with the math problems
I could never solve.
I like hats
and always at evening
when the birds return to the tree
I look for the one flying backwards.
 
 
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Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
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Lira fonds
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