At Night

At night, as in a tomb, a pyramid,
Our room is sealed. And way above our head
A mound of silence, rising sand, amid
A generations standing at our bed.

And when our bodies sleep, the road is drawn
Upon the walls again, where our soals float.
Our soals are passing by and, see: they're gone,
You see? Two standing in a passing boat,

The rest are rowing. Stars above us climb.
And other people's stars, the stream of time
Bears them without deciphering their plight.

And we are mummified in shrouds of love.
After eternity, dawn like a dove,
A merry archeologist - he has the light.

--Yehuda Amichai
translated by Benjamin and Barbara Hanshav