Yehuda Amichai Good Poems

  • 1.
    They amputated
    Your thighs off my hips.
    As far as I'm concerned
    They are all surgeons. All of them.
    ...
  • 2.
    1
    Mr. Beringer, whose son
    fell at the Canal that strangers dug
    so ships could cross the desert,
    ...
  • 3.
    The memory of my father is wrapped up in
    white paper, like sandwiches taken for a day at work.

    Just as a magician takes towers and rabbits
    ...
  • 4.
    Try to remember some details. Remember the clothing
    of the one you love
    so that on the day of loss you'll be able to say: last seen
    wearing such-and-such, brown jacket, white hat.
    ...
  • 5.
    They amputated
    Your thighs from my waist.
    For me they are always
    Surgeons. All of them.
    ...
  • 6.
    "What kind of a person are you," I heard them say to me.
    I'm a person with a complex plumbing of the soul,
    Sophisticated instruments of feeling and a system
    Of controlled memory at the end of the twentieth century,
    ...
  • 7.
    They amputated
    Your thighs off my hips.
    As far as I'm concerned
    They are all surgeons. All of them.
    ...
  • 8.
    On Rabbi Kook's Street
    I walk without this good man--
    A streiml he wore for prayer
    A silk top hat he wore to govern,
    ...
  • 9.
    I passed by the school where I studied as a boy
    and said in my heart: here I learned certain things
    and didn't learn others. All my life I have loved in vain
    the things I didn't learn. I am filled with knowledge,
    ...
Total 9 Good Poems by Yehuda Amichai

Top 10 most used topics by Yehuda Amichai

I Love You 15 Love 15 God 12 Remember 11 Place 11 Night 9 Woman 9 Body 9 Good 9 Time 8

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Poem of the day

Andrew Lang Poem
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
 by Andrew Lang

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
...

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