On a little hill amid fertile fields lies a small cemetery,
a Jewish cemetery behind a rusty gate, hidden by shrubs,
abandoned and forgotten. Neither the sound of prayer
nor the voice of lamentation is heard there
...
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I wish I could read, hear the sound of the original poem but am thankful for the translation. Amichai once again has something to say and, oh, how well he expresses it.
This is probably the poem which encourages the deepest thoughts and emotions that I have read to date.. Beautifully visual... Karen