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Gedicht

Nathan Alterman

Moon


An old sight too has its moment of birth.
A birdless sky
Strange and set apart.
Facing your window on the moonlit night stands
A city plunged in crickets\' tears.


And when you see a road still watching for a wayfarer
And the moon
Is on the cypress spear,
You say: \'My God, are all these things still out there?
May one whisper them a greeting?\'


From their pools the waters gaze upon us.
The tree is at rest
In a flush of catkin blossoms.
Never shall the sorrow of Your great playthings
Be plucked from me, O our God.

Moon

Nathan  Alterman

Nathan Alterman

(Polen, 1910 - 1970)

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Moon

Moon


An old sight too has its moment of birth.
A birdless sky
Strange and set apart.
Facing your window on the moonlit night stands
A city plunged in crickets\' tears.


And when you see a road still watching for a wayfarer
And the moon
Is on the cypress spear,
You say: \'My God, are all these things still out there?
May one whisper them a greeting?\'


From their pools the waters gaze upon us.
The tree is at rest
In a flush of catkin blossoms.
Never shall the sorrow of Your great playthings
Be plucked from me, O our God.
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