Too much weariness, too few eyes
to contain it. Too many clocks,
too little time. Too many oaths
on the Bible, too many highways, too few
ways where we can truly go: each to his destiny.
Too many hopes
that ran away from their masters.
Too many dreamers. Too few dreams
whose interpretation would change the history of the world
like Pharoah’s dreams.
My life closes behind me. And I am outside, a dog
for the cruel, blind wind that always
pushes at my back. I am well trained: I rise and sit
and wait to lead it through the streets
of my life, which could have been my true life.
Yehuda Amichai, Poems, 1948-1962
Trans. Chana Bloch and Stephen Mitchell
pea river journal 
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