God Hid His Face
Selected Poems of RAJZEL ZYCHLINSKY
 
The Prophet and the Rain
 
The shoulders of the prophet were narrow, 
they trembled 
in the setting sun. 
His face was damp, 
the face of the prophet on the mountain. 
At the foot of Mount Carmel 
camels waited 
with long, thirsty throats. 
At the foot of the mountain, the people waited 
with empty cups and empty eyes. 
And the king? 
The king, his eyes shut, 
yearned for the sound of the rain. 
and soon, there was a cloud in the sky, 
large and dark, 
like the prophet Elijah. 
There was thunder, 
and lightning! 
The rain poured, 
clamored, 
squalled! 
With the wet king on their shoulders, 
the people ran off 
in a pack, singing. 
On the mountain 
the prophet stood alone, 
with an open heart 
and an open mouth.

The sun set. 
The last, blood-red cloud sank
into the river Kishon.
Once more the fish,
with their eyes of amber,
were ready to greet the stars.
With his lips, the prophet
touched the earth,
grasping the mountain
with his dry hands.

And when a mist rose 
from the sea, 
it was like the prophet's hand, 
it was like the prophet's foot.
 

Translated by Jeffrey Shandler

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