Zvi Yair

The Poetry of Zvi Yair

"Tell us a story, Grandpa!" begged the children. "Tell us a story about a prince..."

They stand behind our chair Holding on to the fork in our hand...

I went looking for your footsteps Princess, mother In the sands of yesterday-- But how would I find them? Your fragile foot So delicate, so kindly Never pressed down Upon the ground... I searched for your monument Among the gravestones-- But who strings ...

Once there was/ A mighty king/ And in all lands of his kingdom/ No man lifted/ Hand nor foot/ Without his say

This one night/ Allow my fantasy/ That death/ I will not see

Over this one thing I implore You: That my cup of gratitude With a tear is laced

In my youth/ My eyes beheld/ Realities to the millions...

The droplet yearns for the source. The spark craves the great fire. Shall we plunge into the sea of Nothingness?

Solitary and without friend/ Is he/ Therefore/ Every man/ Is his brother