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ספר השירים "סימפוניית אביב" (שבילי אור, קיץ 2011) מכיל שירים בעברית ותרגומם לאנגלית. המקור מופיע מול התרגום. השירים הנבחרים מבטאים את אחד ממאפייני שירתה של רחלי אברהם-איתן – "שירה אופטימית" כהגדרתה של דנה יופה עורכת "חדשות מודיעין" (ובעבר עורכת "זמן מודיעין"). השיר "סימפוניית אביב" שעל שמו נקרא הספר, מתאר את נופי החוץ של גבעות מודיעין הפורחות באביב ומהוות מקור משיכה למבקרים רבים, באנלוגיה לנופי הפנים, לנופי הנפש העֵרָה ותוססת עם בוא האביב. מול שירי האביב מופיעים בספר באנלוגיה ניגודית שירי כיליון, שירי כאב, שירי מחלה, שהם חלק ממעגל החיים על כל הרע והטוב שבו.
 
A trip through the depths of consciousnes
 
From afar the sea is like an azure cloth
Embroidered with white wavelets.
From nearby – their movement
Is like waves in the depths of consciousness
Carrying away fragments of thought
On the winds of the present.
 
In the depths of the storm
The tapestry of the sea
Assails the coast
In a froth of white waves
Cracks the soft rocks
Dissolves their tranquility
To ruins.
The grains of sand tremble
Carried easily
By the murmur of the waves
Like a man shaking by
A woman’s fragility.
A prison of childhood
 
“I am like an owl of the desert.” (Psalm song 102)
 
1.
 
A childhood in isolation
Like a root far from water.
Steeped in a river of melancholy
Sorrowfully staring
Imprisoned in the family circle
Like a melody imprisoned in a silent
Sounding board.
Curls that larked about
In the breeze, the sun and the sand
Were cut off by an efficient hand
Childhood in a hasty moment
Fell down one by one 
In a pile and the tears like drops
Of wheat after the rain
And there was no consolation
For her soul pitying itself
As the curls piled up
On the floor.
 
Sucking her right thumb among the olives
Glancing like a bird at the soothing
Blue sky.
 
Her sobbing locked away in
Her heart’s prison.
2.
 
I would wander after the moon
Like a burning trail of light in its wake
As my vague senses
Dissolved like a cloud.
My arms spread out
Like a bird in flight
Longing for the darkening canopy
At the heart of being
As a last soft ray of sunshine
Descended to the mountain ridge.
A child within a child
Observes her companion
Narrows her eyes opposite the myriad
Sparks of light.
Into the darkness of the world
Distances herself from creatures
That scratch furrows in her heart.
 
Wanders with her shadow
On hills and mountains.
At dawn runs out of the house
To frequent the sun’s embrace
Removes a dark garment
Assumes a turban of light
And shadows like Honi’s circle* in the legend
As a shield for her skin
 
*Thelegend tells of Honi Ha’maagel who
 drew a circle and refused to emerge from it until
 it started to rain.
3.
In mists of light.
Mountains melt like wax
A child on village paths
Like a flower stem
Drinks in the fragrances
And tastes of dawn in her nostrils.
Light is sown in her and
The joy of the universe
Alleviates eternal sadness.
A butterfly passes
Fluttering on its broken wing
Like it she spreads her arms
To float
To disconnect herself from
The quarrelsome earth
And from scuffles of brothers
That Freezes her heart like an owl
On an icy winter’s night.
We shall not be missed
 
For my son Lishai
 
On the paths of wisdom
And on grassy oases
We will lie
 
Among stinging raindrops
We will survive the storm
 
Barrages of ice pellets
Intensify the cold
And there is no air
To breathe
 
Forget, my son,
A father’s harsh moralizing
Create in your heart a cure
For the torn nest
 
Stay by the fireside
Your present and your support
Comfort me
Mother and Daughter
 
Singing of birds
And the rustling of palm leaves
Opposite a broad window
A heart open to the breeze
And knowledge growing
From the pages of a book
 
A picture burned in memory
A sad girl on the threshold of a house
In the whispering of the garden finds signs
Of love
Loneliness imprisonedamong branches
Escaping from childish joy
 
“A woman builds a home”
The future predicts
 
Now a mother and daughter
On a wide leather sofa
Are nurtured by two worlds:
Books and nature
And an arc of light
Connects between them
 
A bird flying up from a nest
Built outside the window
Like a surprise visitor
Standing on the sill
Awakens in me
Blue childhood birds
In the memories
Joining my mother to me


A spring symphony on the Modin hills
 
Observe the month of Abib and keep the Passover
 unto the Lord thy God.” (Deuteronomy 16:1)
 
The sun’s bugle call on the hills, in the gullies
And in fields where a builder’s foot never trod,
Awakens the sleeping from hibernation.
The yellow carpets of daisies and mustard rejoice
Calling me to roam far away.
Redness of anemones like a demonstration
of shrieking peacocks
And Anchusa Strigosa
standing erect to the buzzing of bees
Circling to the nectar
They know in their wise hearts
That nectar is hiding in the little white flower
And not in the anemone’s shouting redness.
Armies of ants drunken on spring plenty
Scurry around like hikers on nature walks
Wearing flowery holiday suits.
 
Spring pollen irritates sensitive skin
Tickling noses into loud sneezes
The season of transition is like a temporary bridge
To the heavy burden of heat and humidity
In raging summer
Lengthening like an endless path
Empty of spring hikers that escape back
To air-conditioned rooms.
The Judas tree will gather in its fragrance
Will harvest its branches

 


 

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