On the Fifth Day

The waters are a constant roar, the hills seem close today.

Winged birds of all kinds in the sky, the tide is rising.

It makes me laugh, to dive into the shining surf,

I jump and splash, everything is very good

on this fifth day of the week.

Man and woman created you in winter like Hashem created

light and darkness, beach and trees and man and woman,

male and female He created them.

I may never know you in that sense again,

or find your amber eyes among the waves—

I love this world as I love you,

there is no difference, David knew that well before me.

Maybe this is why he sometimes leapt and danced all by himself,

then sashayed home, to play the lyre and write a poem.

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