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Retirement translated from the Hebrew by Aura Hammer Poets do not retire On reaching their time to be silent, Praising the beauty of Jerusalem They are pushed slowly eastward Thrust aside forgotten to the desert. And there, suddenly in absolute secrecy Drop mutely from the cliff, And the bone of their poetry, drying Bleaching and gathering dust Descends to the cave opening. Sinks slowly, gathered In the dust cloud of the scrolls.