my wild children

My Wild Children

My wild children: in the morning
they eat my dreams, at evening
they wolf down my memories.
I am their manger.
I feel their rough tongues
on my soul.
I hear their sweet and empty slurping
day and night.

My wild children, my barracudas
sopping up my madness, muting my scream.
I dig into them.

I want to light my eyes
from their eyes,
as on a dark nocturnal street
a man asks for a light
for his last cigarette.


Yehuda Amichai
translated by Robert Alter
(source)