We Make Love In A Military Cemetry
Late on Memorial Day we met at the graveyard's wrought-iron door;
I'm one hundred percent disabled, she - a young widow-of-war
(Of the last war, very likely, twenty three/four, couldn't be more).
Had we met at roulette, exchanging a glance -
The rest of my nights I'd have staked all on a chance,
Had we met, moonlight led, at an occult séance -
I'd have spent all my days in deep joyous trance.
Had we met on the floor of a jazz ballet class -
I'd have whirled away my life in everlasting dance.
But it was in a graveyard we came face to face
Thus my heart goes forever wandering off to that place -
Dark silence. No breath. Our backs rest in peaceful green hair.
And from fertile earth rises warm misty air
..."Am I not an almost perfect Israeli lover?"
I enquire, eyes twinkling, in self-assured undertone -
"You're one-hundred-percent!" she laughs, reassuring,
"Just don't go tell it to them tombstones!"
RAMY DITZANNY
Translated by the poet
http://israel.poetryinternationalweb.org
