Wednesday, 8 April 2015

Day 994: Ballad of The Washed Hair


Washing hair - hardly a subject for poetry - or is it? Why of course!

Ballad of The Washed Hair -  Yehuda Amichai

The stones on the mountain are always
awake and white.
In the dark town, angels on duty
are changing shifts.
A girl who has washed her hair
asks the hard world, as if it were Samson,
where is it weak, what is its secret.
A girl who has washed her hair
puts new clouds on her head.
The scent of her drying hair is
prophesying in the streets and among stars.
The nervous air between the night trees
starts to relax.
The thick telephone book of world history


  1. Life is all memory, except for the one present moment that goes by you so quickly you crashing catch it going. See the link below for more info.


  2. Good vibes. Everyday, all day. God Bless :)


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