A lovely poem sent to me recently by my friend and colleague, Dafi Agam-Segal. The translation is hers. It is a poem by Israeli poet Natan Yonatan.
The Last Chapter
When the yard becomes empty
And the packing house shuts down
And the last car is dismantled
And there remains something unkempt there shall remain
Only the sound of the pump
And the sun’s golden bowl shall die out
In the quicklime crematories on the mountains
And the gates shall be shut
Ironed and sealed.
On the road to the old well the pitcher’s pieces shall lie
There where the woman laid down to rest
And the pale silver cord of the moon shall go down
Unto the fountain’s darkness
And shall return again to its circuits the wind [spirit] and the dust
Of man shall return unto the ground out of which he was taken
And the daughters of music [of the poem] shall be brought low and the door shall close.
And those that shall remain after
Shall open a last chapter of Koheleth.
From: Poems on “Sefer Hayashar”, Or-Am, 1998, p. 68