Memory...

Dedicated to the memory of my dear and beloved husband. Tzvi Ven Boruch(Grisha).

30 av  1999

****



Memory, you are an artist, a sculptor, a poet.
You sculpt, paint, write sonnets...
Memory,why you dance pirouettes in my head?
Rest, do not squeeze my heart, the vise of ennui.
Such is life... C'est la vie... C'est la vie...

Never let my secret be known.
Never vowed, always silent.
I cauterized my memory with a red-hot needle
I have taken a splinter out to keep it from bleeding.
The wound does not heal, the soul is not flesh.
Why does the L-rd take away only the best?


There's so much we wanted to say.
How much? Is it possible to count,
The rays of the sun or the scattering of stars   
Rain in a puddle or beads of tears
On your cheek and mine
The words of farewell are drowned in longing.
But every year I repeat,
There's so much I wanted to say...



The autumn leaves rustle and rustle with memories...

But Indian summer's embrace cradles my consciousness.

I'm going through the herbarium of our life... How beautiful it is!

Spring once came to my heart, with you, my love!

You have finished your earthly way - winter is in my soul forever.

Pity the summer of our life has passed so quickly!