Rami Saari
Homes peeled from the riverbank
are swept away just like that.
It’s not a movie, my dear,
but the terrors of weather.
Whoever is born now
may live to witness
an age of wonders:
bird flu, driving rain,
worlds coming to an end.
Whoever survives us
may one day see the poles free of snow,
iceless glaciers,
an island turned into an abyss
on the bottom of the ocean,
the mountain at the top of the range
a remote and forgotten shoal,
without any sign of my desire
for Elijah’s cake
and his jar of water.
To me, in any case,
your face is
the most beautiful thing
when together we watch
the news of this world.
When the homes peel away from the riverbank
their inhabitants can’t even drag
an aging grandmother on their backs
or carry a beloved dog in their arms.
And I’m not at all surprised
when I look at your face, my darling, my dog,
one touch of your tongue is worth more
than a thousand academics.
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