To My Love, Combing Her Hair

To My Love, Combing Her Hair

To my love, combing her hair
without a mirror, facing me,

a psalm: you've shampooed your hair, an entire
forest of pine trees is filled with yearning on your head.

Calmness inside and calmness outside
have hammered your face between them to a tranquil copper.

The pillow on your bed is your spare brain,
tucked under your neck for remembering and dreaming.

The earth is trembling beneath us, love.
Let's lie fastened together, a double safety-lock.

"To My Love, Combing Her Hair" by Yehuda Amichai, translated by Chana Bloch and Stephen Mitchell from The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai. Copyright © 1986 by Chana Bloch and Stephen Mitchell. Reprinted with permission of HarperCollins Publishers.