* September is a city of copper; It is the shape of ashes in the tale of the fire-bird. September is a waiting-hall between the bareness of ends and the beginnings of fig berries. So, my beloved substitutes her hair, to take a shower; primitive waters come out from earth’s pores and assemble in a leady sky. Very soon, trees will wear their dusts, and hang their clothes on ropes of rain
I am 58 years old, from eastern Galilee, Israel (Palestine). I studied English literature, psychology and Law at the Hebrew university (Jerusalem). In the last three years, I published three books of which is dedicated to prose poetry. You are invited to visit the Facebook page Shadows of Water, where I publish my prose poems I translate to English.
Why don’t you remember? Remember again, Music of September, I still retain. We met in the greenery, A wet, lovely scenery, A teen age romance, The music and dance. Why don’t you remember? Remember again, Magic of September, Your shyness,