I Told the Tree

אָמַרְתִּי לָעֵץ

אָבִי אַתָּה

וְחָסִיתִי בְּצִלּוֹ יָמִים רַבִּים

אֵצֶל גִּזְעוֹ הַמְּבֻקָּע

אֵצֶל עֲנָפָיו הַמְּשֹׂרָגִים

עָלָיו שֶׁכִּסּוּ אֶת פְּנֵי הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ

אָמַרְתִּי לַנַּחַל

אַתְּ אִמִּי

וְחָסִיתִי בְּמַיִמֶיהָ לֵילוֹת רַבִּים

אֵצֶל זִרְמָהּ הַמְפַכֶּה

אֵצֶל אֵשֶׁד זַךְ

אֵצֶל מַעְיַן אַהֲבָתָהּ

אָמַרְתִּי לְאֶבֶן הָאִלֶּמֶת

אַתְּ יַלְדָּתֵנוּ

לְאֶבֶן הַכְּחֻלָּה כַּלֹּבֶן

לְאֶבֶן הַמְּכֻסָּה בְּאֵלֶם יָמִים רַבִּים

שֶׁאֵין לָהּ שֵׁם אוֹ דְּמוּת הַגּוּף

Nadav Linial is an Israeli Hebrew poet. He has published two books – Tikrat Ha’Adamah (Earth Ceiling, Keshev, 2010), and Hallel (Praise, Pardes, 2021), and is the winner of the 2011 Teva Prize for Hebrew Poetry, and the 2020 Pa’is Prize for poetry manuscripts. He is a professor of Modern Hebrew Language and Literature.

Return to Vol 3 Issue 3

I told the tree

You are my father

And dwelt in its shade many days

With its split trunk

Tangled branches

Leaves covering the face of the sun

I told the brook

You are my mother

And dwelt in its waters many nights

With its rushing stream

Pure rapids

Spring of its love

I told the mute stone

You are my daughter

The stone whose blue is like whiteness

The stone covered in silence for many days

Without a name or bodily likeness

Zackary Sholem Berger is a poet and translator in Baltimore working in and among English, Hebrew, Yiddish, and Spanish.