A Song of Hope for the Morrow
(For Eve, the "mother of all living", after expelled from the Garden of Eden)
The morning meets you kicking
From the east the burning
Sun ball - a goal to the sky
From an offside position.
At noon, you were sold to the public
With the newspapers, which declare
That the sunset is soon coming.
Only the Book of Ecclesiastes
Still proclaims, as it did
Three thousand years ago,
That there is nothing new
Under this same sun.
The evening meets you, as if it spits
The darkness towards the sky,
As if it was an ink-fish
Feeling the danger in the water.
And the night binds you to a halo of stars
And stamps in your eyes thorns of hope
- For a better day, for the morrow.
From the east the burning
Sun ball - a goal to the sky
From an offside position.
At noon, you were sold to the public
With the newspapers, which declare
That the sunset is soon coming.
Only the Book of Ecclesiastes
Still proclaims, as it did
Three thousand years ago,
That there is nothing new
Under this same sun.
The evening meets you, as if it spits
The darkness towards the sky,
As if it was an ink-fish
Feeling the danger in the water.
And the night binds you to a halo of stars
And stamps in your eyes thorns of hope
- For a better day, for the morrow.
Written by Moshe D. Shafrir-Stillman