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Untitled | Poem

 
The Fragrance of Mignonette
  "Until I smelled the fragrance 
  of the cut grass, I didn't believe 
  I was home again." said the young soldier 
  back stricken from the battle on the Canal.
  And I, who was stricken after him, fifteen years
  after him, did not believe I had risen
  from my bed: drunk as then climbing
  to the clay hilltop, flattening myself
  on its grass. And reviving in its 
  good warmth: like a child coming back
  wrapped in the sweet fragrance of Mignonette. 

© 2000 Elisha Porat
translated from Hebrew by Vivian Eden

mignonette

to Elisha        to Moongate