Frente a mi Mano Abierta

Opposite my Open Hand

                                                             

(Janina Israel)

                                                Ashdod, Dec 07.2009

 

 

In my heart is sad New Year

and like the face of the Angels

terribly wise and innocent.

 

I count the days to come and new projects

and I am amazed to see behind the smiles

a tangle of indecent gestures.

 

The man is the beginning of melancholy

memory or not,

and trees are born with a clear objective:

show the distances and solitudes.

 

Originally the World has had

the same immobility of my silhouette

to manage fatigue, and the same ambush

Waiting for a destination.

 

I think the prophetic madness

will straddle one year and

and I go by the lines of the hand

deciphering the limits of the winding

way of life, which leads

a tear or wine.

 

What to do if what follows is like a last goodbye

stubborn and hurtful?

 

What to do if the New Year is a God in?

and I want to cover my face

with their hands, lest you find it?