To My Love, Combing Her Hair
To my love, combing her hair
without a mirror facing me,
a psalm: you’ve shampooed your hair, an entire
forest of pine trees is filled with yearning on your head.
Calmness inside and calmness outside
have hammered your face between them to a tranquil copper.
The pillow on your bed is your spare brain,
tucked under your neck for remembering and dreaming.
the earth is trembling beneath us, love.
Let’s lie fastened together, a double safety-lock.
Find out more about Yehuda Amichai here.