Tuesday Evening in Fort Tryon Park
Evening bends into the leaves.
Breathing falls in with the river;
tablets break over and over.
Rock strains its nerves to endure,
flame lingers over the river,
prophets point over the border.
Song tumbles onto the path—
day is not, day is not over—
gardens stand tall against slumber.
Man, who are you to pass by,
flourishing into the ether,
vapor and structure together?
Teach me that this is not vain,
hasten the rising of favor.
Cedar and heather, start over.
Mystery, hint at your name.
Love, shed a drop of your silver;
chariot, bear me to shelter.
The poem began with eighteen Hebrew words, which appear here in English.