Sunset in Herring Cove

By YEHUDIT BEN-ZVI HELLER 

 

The  puzzle  of  the  sun’s  longing  for
the  sea
The  marvel:  her  love  fills  the  sky  overflows  the  rim  till the
sea  is  one
with  the  sky
The  sun  like  Dido  in  flames
melts  into  the  water
in  a  hiss  that  breaks  waves  into  bubbles  into  shards  which return
with  the  waves
Mirrors  tremble  with  visions  shattered  pieces  of  water  and  she
cries  Sea  O
Sea
He  weeps  she  bleeds
his  tears  her  blood  the price  they  pay  so  water  is  not  ever  parted
from  water
Streaming  the  seven  heavens  merge  evening  after  evening
and  the  sea
again  overflows.
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

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Sunset in Herring Cove

Related Posts

Map

By MARIN SORESCU trans. DANIEL CARDEN NEMO
If I see the ocean / I think that’s where / my soul should be, / otherwise the sheet of its marble / would make no waves.

A sculpture bunny leaning against a book

Three Poems by Mary Angelino

MARY ANGELINO
The woman comes back each week / to look at me, to look / at regret—that motor stuck in the living / room wall, ropes tied / to each object, spooling everything in. She / comes back to watch / what leaving does. Today, her portrait / splinters—last month, it was only / askew

Aleksandar Hemon and Stefan Bindley-Taylor's headshot

January Poetry Feature #2: Words and Music(ians)

STEFAN BINDLEY-TAYLOR
I am sure I will never get a name for the thing, the memory of which still sits at a peculiar tilt in my chest, in a way that feels different than when I think of my birthday, or my father coming home. It is the feeling that reminds you that there is unconditional love in the world, and it is all yours if you want.