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A Cracked Statuette translated from the Hebrew by Asher Harris In the summer of seventy-nine, Sheltered in the shade, on a step in Market Street, in the shop of a Christian Arab, While my hand was stroking the halo of hair Of a graven statuette - A startling voice suddenly broke out, A young announcer begging, pleading: hurry, whoever is able, Whoever is near, run to the tower Of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher - Through the lattice you may know her: Wrapped all in black but her hair is fair, And her car still pulses below her. And when I arrived - I was late - With those who were called to her aid, The helpers, the radio was screaming, And all the city was frozen, holding its breath - Already she lay there, stretched out in the square: Innocent, beautiful, and wrapped all about in the shining Radiance of a cracked statuette.
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