The Place Where We Are Right - Yehuda Amichai (trans. C. Bloch & S. Mitchell)





From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the spring.

The place where we are right
is hard and trampled
like a yard.

But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plow
and a whisper will be heard in the place
where the ruined house
once stood.

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