by Simkha Shayevich
The girl says in a cheerful voice
when she saw the day arrive
in red dawn sunrise:
leave in peace! Shadows carry in their mouths
from your body your own tears.
Come girl, I beg you, come out to me
lie down my bride on my silvery bed
and sing of our love
with your heart aglow,
sing and become — a poet!
The girl gathers in her arms
full heaps of light,
full heaps of day
and flings them at the head of night:
Go away! I’m not a whore on the corner!…