A few versions about the dove who built a nest at my windowsill and afterwards flew away

(poem 30 of 32)

To Shulamith, for two whole minutes

Do come birds and eat the crumbs of dream
For I am nourished by the calm of my aging palm

And what shall I say about the bereaved bird in the thicket
Who has come to my windowsill to restore herself
And she labours tirelessly to hatch, to fly,
To bring another beam for my house, another building-stone in her beak

It occurred a year ago and my hair has since gone grey by two whole minutes
(Thus she said. I asked her whether she has time and she replied:
"Two whole minutes")
For these two minutes I read her a poem
About the crumbs and the feeling on the windowsill

Because I hold poems in my old palm

My hair has gone grey by two whole minutes
Since she said two whole minutes
And I crumbled bread in my palms
To feed a dove nesting on my windowsill
All there is to do is to open a small window
And to bandage the psyche which is a young and vulnerable bird
Upon the red tiled-roof ---

I said to myself: In vain my feeling crumbles like bread
On the windowsill, do come birds, eat the crumbs of my dream

Translated from the Hebrew by the author, © 1996 Ella Bat-Tsion, http://dapim.net