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A Quiet Joy by Yehuda Amichai

Sick as a wet dog, and I don’t even know if that made sense. My headache’s worse. As always there is work to do. Dear self: you will definitely take some time off later this year. For now: carry on.

A Quiet Joy
Yehuda Amichai

I’m standing in a place where I once loved.
The rain is falling. The rain is my home.

I think words of longing: a landscape
out to the very edge of what’s possible.

I remember you waving your hand
as if wiping mist from the windowpane,

and your face, as if enlarged
from an old blurred photo.

Once I committed a terrible wrong
to myself and others.

But the world is beautifully made for doing good
and for resting, like a park bench.

And late in life I discovered
a quiet joy
like a serious disease that’s discovered too late:

just a little time left now for quiet joy.

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