October 06

The Apple, the Cucumber, and the Plum

Dan Armon

Translated by Tsipi Keller

The fruit is done. Now it has
touched the bounds of its form,
ripens toward what's beyond,
and with a sweet longing turns
to rot from inside.
The sea is not far, from here
you can sense the depth of blue,
the song of blue, and the fruit
knows: each tree and its fruit,
the tree is the one to decide,
and every normal fruit loves
its tree. Even if the poet's
fruits are not to be foreseen.
Suddenly on an apple tree cucumbers
grow, but love is foreseen.
There's a cucumber in
the apple's flavor. Both
face the sea and the wind,
or with wine,
and the woman observing.

To woman to breasts to taste
the apple hums and sings:
I'm a young cucumber
who hasn't known yet
the taste of a woman's bite.
The sea engenders its own appeal,
the poet approaches his end
next to the woman facing the sea
and a plateful
of plum pits

Image: Gradinamea

Dan Armon was born in Jerusalem and studied Literature and Theater at Hebrew University. He published six volumes of poetry and is a recipient of the Prime Minister Award. His poetry is sinuous, dreamy, quiet, as the poet is often alone, looking out the window, walking down the street late at night, lying in a field. Armon works and lives in Tel Aviv.