Poets

Admiel Kosman
 

For those who don't know us, so here, if you please: we piss.
For years, we've been pissing together, from on high, with great concentration, on the whole world, on countries, seas, - the surrounding hills, on the haughty hills we piss in a joyful arc, on all the white clouds, we piss in a sad arc, and spray yellow, concentrated juice.
You should know:
Piss is a vast mirror,
a clear and true reflection of the foundation of our experience, the guts and the insides, and the profound and the hidden, the essence, the first experience, the core, the basis of our vitality, of everything.

Right now we piss from right to left,
in small circles, like a vulture circling above you.
Gently, gracefully, with fluid skill:
just one drop,
at the end, at the finish, at the end of days, of human existence,
all at once, with a light, graceful sway, comfortably, like a highly concentrated poison, a bomb falling from the top of a tower,

a drop of poem, on the lake below.
 

Translated from the Hebrew by Lisa Katz