הֶסְפֵּד
נִגְזַר עָלֵינוּ לִצְפּוֹת בְּמוֹתוֹ שֶׁל הָעֵץ,
דֶּקֶל קָנָרִי מְפֹאָר.
בְּעִיר שֶׁמּוֹצִיאָה חָדָשׁ — מִפְּנֵי חָדָשׁ יוֹתֵר,
וְהוּא אֵינוֹ מֵנִיב וְאֵינוֹ נַדְלָ"ן.
אֲנִי מִתְכַּנֶּסֶת לָשֶׁבֶת בַּצַּעַר
עִם דְּרוֹר יוֹנָה ועוֹרְבָנִי
אוֹמְדִים אֶת אָזְלַת־הַיָּד וְאָזְלַת־הַפְּרִי
הַגֶּזַע כְּבָר יָבֵשׁ, הַצַּמֶּרֶת נֶאֱפֶרֶת
אֵין לְאָן לְהָסִיט אֶת הַמַּבָּט
מִצַּעַר הַמִּרְפֶּסֶת.
כָּל הַשָּׁנִים לֹא עוֹמְדוֹת לִזְכוּתוֹ
כְּנֶגֶד מִין הַחִפּוּשִׁית הַפּוֹלֵשׁ
וּבַלַּיְלָה, עֲטַלֵּפֵי־פֵּרוֹת בָּאִים
אֲפִלּוּ שֶׁכְּבָר אֵין,
אַךְ כַּפּוֹתָיו מְוַתְּרוֹת
נִשְׁבַּר לֵב הָעֵץ.
וּכְדֶרֶךְ הַדְּקָלִים הַקָּנָרִים הַמְפֹאָרִים
זְקוּף קוֹמָה הוּא מֵת.
Eulogy
We are condemned to witness the death of a tree,
a grand Canary Island date palm.
In a city that replaces the new with even newer
this tree won’t turn a profit and isn’t pricey real estate.
I’ve gathered in mourning
with sparrow, dove, and jay
to assess their loss of perch and fruit
its withered trunk, its ashen crown—
there’s nowhere to hide
from this pain on the terrace.
All its good years can’t stop
an invading beetle
and at night, fruit bats come
though there isn’t any fruit left,
and its fronds collapse
as the tree’s heart breaks.
But like all grand Canary Island date palms
it’s with head held high
that it dies.
Poet Maya Weinberg is a veterinarian and bat researcher in the Zoology Department of Tel Aviv University. She is widely published in Hebrew literary journals and the author of three books of poetry, Open Landscape (Iton 77, 2015), City and the Mountain Pose (Kibbutz HaMeuchad, 2018) which won the 2018 Clil Prize for ecopoetry, and most recently, From Hand to Mouth (Pardes, 2021).
Translator Yoni Hammer-Kossoy’s work has been published in numerous journals and anthologies, and is forthcoming or has recently appeared in the Ilanot Review, Lily Poetry Review, Juniper Poetry, Sky Island Journal, and River Heron Review. Originally from the U.S., Yoni has lived in Israel with his family for the last twenty years.