Rami Saari
On the mobile phone to my monk:
held hostage in Bethlehem,
he shares his crusts with thugs
and his pallet with guns,
far from the North Star,
or a compass,
or an encompassing conscience,
yet close as ever to the star of Nativity
and divine dawn. Outside
above the tanks, clouds
so low, so
fast, too fast,
many clouds close by.
Translated from Hebrew by Lisa Katz
Angel Fire
SPANISH POETRY translated by Saari to Hebrew
SPANISH PROSE translated by Saari to Hebrew
Rami Saari’s page