Thursday, February 12, 2009

Untitled - Yehuda Amichai

From the places where we are right

flowers will never grow
in the Spring.
The place where we are right
is as hard and trampled
like a yard.
But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plough.
And a whisper will be near in the place
where the ruined
house once stood.

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