Negev's Flowers
As a teeny, tiny fragment
The city sleep in the Universe, and
In that moment, when the night resettle itself in its full blackness
My eyes gaze far a sad star falling through mighty darkness, and
Right there! At the intersection of light and dark, I live.
I hush my guitar, my tool of expression
A tear falls from my eyes alert to divine beauty, and
Singly, sliding down through my torrid face, and
It is not that I am ill or something!
It's this uneasy lasting longing stretching my chest,
Longing amending blood pressure, and
Shudders profoundly the structure of immense melancholy, thus
Constant restless, I am.
I play gongs in pagodas and do "daimoko" searching for Buddha in my quietness
I play bells in cathedrals, and who knows, by taking a sip of their wine
I turn the chaste mighty God in a charming Negev's flower, and
Play the "shofar" as symbol of the land I miss desperately
Mother of the sacred and the source of my mystery.
I miss the genuine poetry preserved in abundance
In Semitic eyes which can be meaningless to who simply look at,
Look but don't want to see it, still
For me every brief look at Semitic eyes
Reveals the motive of my unmatched love for Israel;
My very private and eccentric longing.
E.S. Dido