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The Lost Son
translated from the Hebrew by Asher Harris

He came back, but he came like a stranger
He came back, looked about and did not
Recall, for to him, all appeared estranged:
The house, the yard, the narrow lane.
Their memory sliced through his heart,
Cut, and he who survived and was favoured
Came back; and he who had sworn back there
That nothing would he forget, estranged though it be:
A dirt path, and the barren field and the ditch
At the edge, and the Lemon tree with its bitter fruit.
He felt that his absence was almost ordained:
To come back at last, to come like a stranger
With a shadowy memory that was not estranged,
And an unravelled thread of burning desire
That will never more be made whole.



The Lost Son
translated from the Hebrew by Lilian Naisberg Klain

And he returned, like a stranger he returned.
And as a stranger he looked round him and could not
remember, for everything was strange to him around him:
the house, the yard, the narrow path.
And their memory delved through his heart,
it cut, and he who survived, and was pardoned,
and returned; and he, who swore still there
he wouldn't forget a thing, even if he was estranged
from the hell of dust, and the wild field and the border
ditch, and the lemon tree, its sour fruit.
He felt his absence was a sort of sentence:
to return in the end, to return like a stranger,
with a dark memory that wouldn't leave him
and a frayed thread of warm nostalgia
that would never again be restored.

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