Jerusalem Light

By YEHUDIT BEN-ZVI HELLER

 

With burning eyes
she rose before dusk
the mountains beneath her
and all the hills
filling like window panes with liquid suns

 

In this hour
she lights her towers
like candles
or perhaps after blessing the fire

she has raised her hands
to cover her face with light

 

Co-translated by the poet and Agha Shahid Ali

 

 

Yehudit Ben-Zvi Heller is the author of Ha’isha Beme’il Sagol (The Woman in the Purple Coat), Kan Gam Bakayitz Hageshem Yored (Here, Even in the Summer It Rains), and Mehalekhet al Khut shel Mayim (Pacing on a Thread of Water).

Agha Shahid Ali (1949-2001) was born in New Delhi and grew up in Kashmir. He published more than ten volumes of poems and translations during his lifetime, including Rooms Are Never Finished, a finalist for the National Book Award in 2001.

Click here to purchase Issue 01

Jerusalem Light

Related Posts

Glass: Five Sonnets

MONIKA CASSEL
In ’87 I see guardsmen walk their AK-47s / on the platforms. The trains slow down but never stop. I think, / my mother was born in such a different Germany, but this is true for everyone / —so why can’t I stop looking?

cover of "Civilians"

On Civilians: Victoria Kelly Interviews Jehanne Dubrow

JEHANNE DUBROW
Now we live in North Texas, hours away from the nearest shore. And yet, the massive amounts of open space—all the prairie, marsh, and plains that we have here—started to feel like another kind of vast water, another great expanse of distance and isolation.

Lizard perched on a piece of wood.

Poems in Tutunakú and Spanish by Cruz Alejandra Lucas Juárez

CRUZ ALEJANDRA LUCAS JUÁREZ
Before learning to walk / and before I’d fallen upon the wet earth / already my heart hummed in three tones. / Even when my steps were still clumsy, / I already held three consciousnesses. // Long before my baptism, / already my three nahuals were running