And when you sit this way by the
   hearth,
and its gold plays over your inclined
   chestnut head,
the light drizzles through your fingers,
and in the mirror of your black silk
   dress
the flame’s splendour dances.
Apples on your table glow in the
   stillness,
a wealth of golden grapes overflows
   the basket,
and blessing gives off its ripe scent.
The forest thunders and roars
and sweet is its song
from within the stillness
of your precious corner.

– Avraham Ben Yitzhak. excerpt from I Scarcely Knew Myself

translated by Robert Alter

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ineverknew

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