The Harvested VineyardWe used to go gleaning
in the harvested vineyard.
What sport it was to find
the few forgotten grapes!
A hidden treasure,
water in the desert,
a new fairytale!
We were rich in the unknown.
We knew other sweetnesses
of golden berries.
The vineyard was not yet
dead. Our eyes,
bird dog eyes,
pointed in the midst of
deceitfully colored leaves
at the tiny cluster,
enchantment for the searchers.
(Translated by Ruth Feldman)