I felt like walking with you in the woods
no daffodils but many trees
not really black, or green – no fairy-tale –
but sweet air and warm-licking sun
healing all there is.
I saw your face, unknown and torn with joy,
so close you came into my warmth.
I wanted to yield to you
my body waiting for your embrace
like from a long-expected stranger.
Gliding under and between – soft skin feels so good –
I gave you my little hand – lovingly –
did you notice at all?
You whispered: may I?, amazed by you and me
and velvet-force giving such delight
was pushing its way through.
And all this time the threads were spun
invisible and yet so strong.
And when I thought to leave you, stranger,
my feet were bound, my soul was caught
a prisoner of heavy thought.
When are we going to the woods
and let the late sun lick all wounds?
When will you say, not only that you felt so good
but that you really understand me?
(From PRIVATE 47 – ISREAEL, p. 25)