By Amos Oz
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Additional resources for Rhyming Life and Death
Who deserted him a fortnight after the marriage and ran away to the US together with her sister’s brother-in-law, a cosmetics producer with a lovely tenor voice. or maybe he's nonetheless alive, the poet Tsefania Beit-Halachmi? absolutely forgotten, he drags out the rest of his days someplace, let’s say in a distant inner most previous parents’ domestic in a employees’ village on the fringe of the Hefer Valley. Or in a few godforsaken nursing domestic at the outskirts of Yokneam. His toothless mouth chews a bit of white bread to a pulp. He spends hours on finish sitting in a brown armchair with an upholstered footstool at the veranda of the house the place he lives; his brain remains to be as transparent as ever however it is a long time considering that he observed any aspect in writing poems or publishing them within the paper, now he's proud of a tumbler of tea and the quiet of the backyard, the altering shapes of the clouds, and he nonetheless enjoys, in truth he enjoys an increasing number of, looking at the colors of the bushes within the backyard and breathing in the scent of freshly mown grass: It’s eco-friendly and peaceable right here, a crow stands on a pillar, on their lonesome, a couple of cypress bushes jointly and one other by itself. All day lengthy he sits in his armchair at the veranda, interpreting with interest a unique by way of a tender author who grew up in a spiritual group yet deserted the commandments, or the memoirs of the founding father of a charitable employer. His eyesight remains to be strong and he doesn't want glasses to learn. without notice he comes throughout his personal identify pointed out in passing within the publication, including a few his outdated rhymes, which all at once have the funds for the outdated poet a infantile excitement, and he smiles and strikes his lips as he reads the strains of verse: he himself has virtually forgotten them, and he intended, with out rancour, that everybody else has forgotten them too, yet the following they're within the publication by means of this younger girl, and he reveals them no longer undesirable in any respect. His blameless, around eyes are blue and transparent less than his white eyebrows, like dual mountain swimming pools surmounted through snowy crags, his physique that was rotund is now as thin as a child’s, delicate and hairless, wrapped in a white flannel dressing dress published with the emblem of the outdated parents’ domestic and the motto ‘Young at center! ’. A small bubble of saliva appears to be like within the nook of the poet’s mouth, at the left facet. each or 3 hours the nurse, Nadia, brings him a pitcher of lemon tea and a sugar lump, and a slice of white bread with the crust got rid of. He sits peacefully for hours on finish with no relocating, placidly respiring the rustic air and smelling the smells, with faint snorts, chewing his bread pulp, snoozing, or awake, with the booklet via the younger lady from the non secular neighbourhood mendacity open face down on his lap, wondering her and pondering even if dying may be totally, unrecognisably diverse from lifestyles. absolutely there has to be a few resemblance, at the least a touch of a resemblance, among the time prior to and after loss of life, simply because there's in any case a touch of a resemblance among any twice or occasions on the earth.