In my alcohol-stream, blood flows as well.
My hands are weak
and tonight across my face squats the sorrow of predators.
In coffee houses people lose their skin, lose color,
pavements generate currents
and the trees have names which remained in nature class.
In my alcohol-stream, blood flows as well.
He who loves is more loving than loving,
he who strikes a match challenges the wind,
and a soldier who came back from a base in northern Sinai
left the oxygen of her lungs in the oxygen of mine.
In my alcohol-stream, blood flows as well.
Words are devoured in the sorrow of predators,
brandy's diluted with ice and tap water,
and longings are a light burning in the bedroom,
an Elvis record,
the clasp of a bra.


translated, from the Hebrew, by Tsipi Keller