What do you think?
Rate this book
The Poetry of Yehuda Amichai
The largest English-language collection to date from Israel’s finest poet
Few poets have demonstrated as persuasively as Yehuda Amichai why poetry matters. One of the major poets of the twentieth century, Amichai created remarkably accessible poems, vivid in their evocation of the Israeli landscape and historical predicament, yet universally resonant. His are some of the most moving love poems written in any language in the past two generations―some exuberant, some powerfully erotic, many suffused with sadness over separation that casts its shadow on love. In a country torn by armed conflict, these poems poignantly assert the preciousness of private experience, cherished under the repeated threats of violence and death.
Amichai’s poetry has attracted a variety of gifted English translators on both sides of the Atlantic from the 1960s to the present. Assembled by the award-winning Hebrew scholar and translator Robert Alter, The Poetry of Yehuda Amichai is by far the largest selection of the master poet’s work to appear in English, gathering the best of the existing translations as well as offering English versions of many previously untranslated poems. With this collection, Amichai’s vital poetic voice is now available to English readers as it never has been before.
Few poets have demonstrated as persuasively as Yehuda Amichai why poetry matters. One of the major poets of the twentieth century, Amichai created remarkably accessible poems, vivid in their evocation of the Israeli landscape and historical predicament, yet universally resonant. His are some of the most moving love poems written in any language in the past two generations―some exuberant, some powerfully erotic, many suffused with sadness over separation that casts its shadow on love. In a country torn by armed conflict, these poems poignantly assert the preciousness of private experience, cherished under the repeated threats of violence and death.
Amichai’s poetry has attracted a variety of gifted English translators on both sides of the Atlantic from the 1960s to the present. Assembled by the award-winning Hebrew scholar and translator Robert Alter, The Poetry of Yehuda Amichai is by far the largest selection of the master poet’s work to appear in English, gathering the best of the existing translations as well as offering English versions of many previously untranslated poems. With this collection, Amichai’s vital poetic voice is now available to English readers as it never has been before.
576 pages, Hardcover
First published November 3, 2015
About the author
Yehuda Amichai
115 books148 followersYehuda Amichai (Hebrew: יהודה עמיחי; 3 May 1924 – 22 September 2000) was an Israeli poet. Amichai is considered by many, both in Israel and internationally, as Israel's greatest modern poet. He was also one of the first to write in colloquial Hebrew.
Yehuda Amichai [was] for generations the most prominent poet in Israel, and one of the leading figures in world poetry since the mid-1960s.
(The Times, London, Oct. 2000)
He was awarded the 1957 Shlonsky Prize, the 1969 Brenner Prize, 1976 Bialik Prize, and 1982 Israel Prize. He also won international poetry prizes: 1994 – Malraux Prize: International Book Fair (France), 1995 – Macedonia`s Golden Wreath Award: International Poetry Festival, and more.
Yehuda Amichai was born in Würzburg, Germany, to an Orthodox Jewish family, and was raised speaking both Hebrew and German.
Amichai immigrated with his family at the age of 11 to Petah Tikva in Mandate Palestine in 1935, moving to Jerusalem in 1936. He attended Ma'aleh, a religious high school in Jerusalem. He was a member of the Palmach, the strike force of the Haganah, the defense force of the Jewish community in Mandate Palestine. As a young man he volunteered and fought in World War II as a member of the British Army, and in the Negev on the southern front in the Israeli War of Independence.
After discharge from the British Army in 1946, Amichai was a student at David Yellin Teachers College in Jerusalem, and became a teacher in Haifa. After the War of Independence, Amichai studied Bible and Hebrew literature at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Encouraged by one of his professors at Hebrew University, he published his first book of poetry, Now and in Other Days, in 1955.
In 1956, Amichai served in the Sinai War, and in 1973 he served in the Yom Kippur War. Amichai published his first novel, Not of This Time, Not of This Place, in 1963. It was about a young Israeli who was born in Germany, and after World War II, and the war of Independence in Israel, he visits his hometown in Germany, recalls his childhood, trying to make sense of the world that created the Holocaust. His second novel, Mi Yitneni Malon, about an Israeli poet living in New York, was published in 1971 while Amichai was a visiting professor at the University of California, Berkeley. He was a poet in residence at New York University in 1987. For many years he taught literature in an Israeli seminar for teachers, and at the Hebrew University to students from abroad.
Amichai was invited in 1994 by Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin to read from his poems at the ceremony of the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo.
"God has pity on kindergarten children" was one of the poems he read. This poem is inscribed on a wall in the Rabin Museum in Tel-Aviv. There are Streets on his name in cities in Israel, and also one in Wurzburg.
Amichai was married twice. First to Tamar Horn, with whom he had one son, and then to Chana Sokolov; they had one son and one daughter. His two sons were Ron and David, and his daughter was Emmanuella.
He died of cancer in 2000, at age 76.
Yehuda Amichai [was] for generations the most prominent poet in Israel, and one of the leading figures in world poetry since the mid-1960s.
(The Times, London, Oct. 2000)
He was awarded the 1957 Shlonsky Prize, the 1969 Brenner Prize, 1976 Bialik Prize, and 1982 Israel Prize. He also won international poetry prizes: 1994 – Malraux Prize: International Book Fair (France), 1995 – Macedonia`s Golden Wreath Award: International Poetry Festival, and more.
Yehuda Amichai was born in Würzburg, Germany, to an Orthodox Jewish family, and was raised speaking both Hebrew and German.
Amichai immigrated with his family at the age of 11 to Petah Tikva in Mandate Palestine in 1935, moving to Jerusalem in 1936. He attended Ma'aleh, a religious high school in Jerusalem. He was a member of the Palmach, the strike force of the Haganah, the defense force of the Jewish community in Mandate Palestine. As a young man he volunteered and fought in World War II as a member of the British Army, and in the Negev on the southern front in the Israeli War of Independence.
After discharge from the British Army in 1946, Amichai was a student at David Yellin Teachers College in Jerusalem, and became a teacher in Haifa. After the War of Independence, Amichai studied Bible and Hebrew literature at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Encouraged by one of his professors at Hebrew University, he published his first book of poetry, Now and in Other Days, in 1955.
In 1956, Amichai served in the Sinai War, and in 1973 he served in the Yom Kippur War. Amichai published his first novel, Not of This Time, Not of This Place, in 1963. It was about a young Israeli who was born in Germany, and after World War II, and the war of Independence in Israel, he visits his hometown in Germany, recalls his childhood, trying to make sense of the world that created the Holocaust. His second novel, Mi Yitneni Malon, about an Israeli poet living in New York, was published in 1971 while Amichai was a visiting professor at the University of California, Berkeley. He was a poet in residence at New York University in 1987. For many years he taught literature in an Israeli seminar for teachers, and at the Hebrew University to students from abroad.
Amichai was invited in 1994 by Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin to read from his poems at the ceremony of the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo.
"God has pity on kindergarten children" was one of the poems he read. This poem is inscribed on a wall in the Rabin Museum in Tel-Aviv. There are Streets on his name in cities in Israel, and also one in Wurzburg.
Amichai was married twice. First to Tamar Horn, with whom he had one son, and then to Chana Sokolov; they had one son and one daughter. His two sons were Ron and David, and his daughter was Emmanuella.
He died of cancer in 2000, at age 76.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 43 reviews
February 20, 2021
He thinks he’ll write for a while, until he sees
What in truth his line of work is for.
"Poet", Two Hopes Away (1958)
The Two of Us Together and Each of Us Alone
“The two of them together and each of them alone.”
—from a rental contract
Another summer, my girl, is over and gone,
And Dad didn’t come to Luna Park to play.
Still, all the swings go on swinging away.
The two of us together and each of us alone.
The sea’s horizon keeps losing its ships—
Holding onto anything now is hard indeed.
The fighters are waiting behind the hills.
Compassion is what we dearly need.
The two of us together and each of us alone.
The moon is sawing the clouds in half.
Come, let’s step forth for a lovers’ duel.
Just the two of us at love before the warring camps.
It still may be possible to change it all.
The two of us together and each of us alone.
My love turns me like a salt sea, it seems,
Into sweet drops of autumn’s first rain.
I’m brought to you slowly as I fall. Take me in.
For us there’s no angel who will come to redeem.
For we are together. Each of us alone.
from Now and in Other Days (1955)
*
Sorrow and Joy
Sorrow and joy alternating
like water and vapor and ice,
sorrow and joy from the same substance.
We knew.
Love and unlove, two colors
in a single rose, it’s wonderful,
an achievement of the rose’s cultivator
whose name stays with the rose.
Many years later we met again
without pain, each of us with our own tranquillity.
That was the Garden of Eden
but it was also hell.
from The Fist, Too, Was Once an Open Hand and Fingers (1989)
*
Peace of Mind, Peace and Mind
“Peace of mind,” my parents used to say,
“A person needs to have peace of mind.”
Like rich Arabs who spend winters in Jericho
and summers in Ramallah and forget the desert in between,
they too are forgetters of the in-between. Or when you carry
a sleeping child from the place he fell asleep to his bed
without waking him. Or like a man who places a bomb
and goes so far away he can’t even hear the echo of his act.
A woman once said to me: I am living in peace
outside history. And I said to her: That’s just what Rahab said,
“I’m living on the wall,” and look how
she entered history and hasn’t come out.
Peace of mind, peace and mind. I want
just once to be inside the room
I see every evening from where I work.
The shade is always drawn and sometimes there’s light within.
I’ve lived long enough to want
just that, and not the kingdom of heaven.
from A Great Tranquillity: Questions and Answers (1980)
* May 21, 19-Feb 16, 21
** I struggled with the last book, so I can't decide whether it’s a 3.5 or a 4-star rating.
Read
February 29, 2020Two of my favourite poems by Yehuda Amichai
God-Full-of-Mercy, The Prayer For the Dead
If God was not full of mercy,
Mercy would have been in the world,
Not just in Him.
I, who plucked flowers in the hills
And looked down into all the valleys,
I, who brought corpses down from the hills,
Can tell you that the world is empty of mercy.
I, who was King of Salt at the seashore,
Who stood without a decision at my window,
Who counted the steps of angels,
Whose heart lifted weights of anguish
In the horrible contests.
I, who use only a small part
Of the words in the dictionary.
I, who must decipher riddles
I don't want to decipher,
Know that if not for the God-full-of-mercy
There would be mercy in the world,
Not just in Him.
Translated from the Hebrew by Barbara and Benjamin Harshav
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I Walked Past A House Where I Lived Once
I walked past a house where I lived once:
a man and a woman are still together in the whispers there.
Many years have passed with the quiet hum
of the staircase bulb going on
and off and on again.
The keyholes are like little wounds
where all the blood seeped out. And inside,
people pale as death.
I want to stand once again as I did
holding my first love all night long in the doorway.
When we left at dawn, the house
began to fall apart and since then the city and since then
the whole world.
I want to be filled with longing again
till dark burn marks show on my skin.
I want to be written again
in the Book of Life, to be written every single day
till the writing hand hurts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Each time I re-read this, I receive a good soul-scraping.
I carry them around with me like British civilians in the Second World War carried around their gas masks.
It was always there: an appendage, and a weight that after a while became invisible; and that despite its invisibility became a necessary burden which one absolutely could not give up. Without it, one couldn't breathe. Without it, one lost all hope. But with the talisman strapped on, one could still look for tomorrow's sun to shine, amid the ruins.
Despite the despair and seeming hopelessness, Amichai gives me hope that the sun will shine, amid the ruins.
(It's taken such a long time to find these words, having finished a few collections of his works almost a month ago.)
Thank you Other Julie for the introduction.
God-Full-of-Mercy, The Prayer For the Dead
If God was not full of mercy,
Mercy would have been in the world,
Not just in Him.
I, who plucked flowers in the hills
And looked down into all the valleys,
I, who brought corpses down from the hills,
Can tell you that the world is empty of mercy.
I, who was King of Salt at the seashore,
Who stood without a decision at my window,
Who counted the steps of angels,
Whose heart lifted weights of anguish
In the horrible contests.
I, who use only a small part
Of the words in the dictionary.
I, who must decipher riddles
I don't want to decipher,
Know that if not for the God-full-of-mercy
There would be mercy in the world,
Not just in Him.
Translated from the Hebrew by Barbara and Benjamin Harshav
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I Walked Past A House Where I Lived Once
I walked past a house where I lived once:
a man and a woman are still together in the whispers there.
Many years have passed with the quiet hum
of the staircase bulb going on
and off and on again.
The keyholes are like little wounds
where all the blood seeped out. And inside,
people pale as death.
I want to stand once again as I did
holding my first love all night long in the doorway.
When we left at dawn, the house
began to fall apart and since then the city and since then
the whole world.
I want to be filled with longing again
till dark burn marks show on my skin.
I want to be written again
in the Book of Life, to be written every single day
till the writing hand hurts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Each time I re-read this, I receive a good soul-scraping.
I carry them around with me like British civilians in the Second World War carried around their gas masks.
It was always there: an appendage, and a weight that after a while became invisible; and that despite its invisibility became a necessary burden which one absolutely could not give up. Without it, one couldn't breathe. Without it, one lost all hope. But with the talisman strapped on, one could still look for tomorrow's sun to shine, amid the ruins.
Despite the despair and seeming hopelessness, Amichai gives me hope that the sun will shine, amid the ruins.
(It's taken such a long time to find these words, having finished a few collections of his works almost a month ago.)
Thank you Other Julie for the introduction.
October 24, 2025
A collection of the sublime. Upon completing this selected (it's NOT a Collected) and The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai edited by Bloch and Mitchell, I can say without reservation that Amichai has skyrocketed into position as one of my favorite poets of all time. The HUGE advantage of this text over the Bloch and Mitchell is the inclusion of poems from Amichai's magisterial last work Open, Closed, Open. The poems selected from that collection are some of the finest I've ever read in any language. They are funny and sad and full of longing. Those ALONE are worth the price of this book. I defy anyone who loves poetry and life to read the poems in Open, Closed, Open and NOT feel like you've been as in touch with the sublime as when listening to Mozart, standing before a Rothko, or at the foot of a sequoia.
Alter, the translator of Jewish texts par excellence recently, has also INCLUDED some of the translations from Bloch and Mitchell.
THAT SAID, there are MANY poems in the Bloch and Mitchell Selected which are NOT included here which are TREMENDOUS. This merely speaks to the need (am I being too demanding after getting this gift from Alter?) for a Collected for Amichai. In the meantime, buying both books is well worth the money.
I'm left wondering why Amichai never received a Nobel? It's certainly not an issue with the quality of his work or his prolificacy. Obviously, politics plays a role in such decisions, but I can sleep at night knowing that Amichai won his share of awards, and more importantly, is held with tremendous love and respect in the hearts of his poetry peers.
Alter, the translator of Jewish texts par excellence recently, has also INCLUDED some of the translations from Bloch and Mitchell.
THAT SAID, there are MANY poems in the Bloch and Mitchell Selected which are NOT included here which are TREMENDOUS. This merely speaks to the need (am I being too demanding after getting this gift from Alter?) for a Collected for Amichai. In the meantime, buying both books is well worth the money.
I'm left wondering why Amichai never received a Nobel? It's certainly not an issue with the quality of his work or his prolificacy. Obviously, politics plays a role in such decisions, but I can sleep at night knowing that Amichai won his share of awards, and more importantly, is held with tremendous love and respect in the hearts of his poetry peers.
August 23, 2018
Yehudi Amichai's poetry strikes at my very core.
His illuminations and ruminating prose is intense, yet gentle, often bold, yet with a caring voice. He reflects on many issues, that are pertinent not only in moments past, but also in today's world.
Social justice/injustice, love and loss, Holocaust and anger, sex, children, women, the military, Jerusalem, daily life, and so much more are woven within the tapestry of his beautiful poems.
It is difficult to articulate my thoughts and feelings regarding 'The Poetry of Yehudi Amichai".
Suffice it to say that, although the copy I read was an e-book, from my library, I have ordered a hardcopy for my personal library.
That should say it all.
His illuminations and ruminating prose is intense, yet gentle, often bold, yet with a caring voice. He reflects on many issues, that are pertinent not only in moments past, but also in today's world.
Social justice/injustice, love and loss, Holocaust and anger, sex, children, women, the military, Jerusalem, daily life, and so much more are woven within the tapestry of his beautiful poems.
It is difficult to articulate my thoughts and feelings regarding 'The Poetry of Yehudi Amichai".
Suffice it to say that, although the copy I read was an e-book, from my library, I have ordered a hardcopy for my personal library.
That should say it all.
February 16, 2016
Gorgeous collection of most celebrated Israeli poet's work. So many in here I love -- especially where he questions his connections to Judaism, and religion in general. His set of poems on Jerusalem are stunning.
May 21, 2021
Wonderful. My most favorite of the collection, below.
"The Place Where We Are Right"
From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the spring.
The place where we are right
is hard and trampled
like a yard.
But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
where the ruined
house once stood.
"The Place Where We Are Right"
From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the spring.
The place where we are right
is hard and trampled
like a yard.
But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
where the ruined
house once stood.
November 20, 2021
Words can't describe the impact of these poems - i am shaken up, smiling, crying at the same time
This is pure beauty, honestly
I never heard about Amichai's work, and read it because i wanted to know new poets
I don't regret it at all
Every single poem resonated in me ; even when he talked about his faith, while i don't believe in God ; or when he talked about Jerusalem for exemple
I can only tell you to read it as soon as you can, you won't regret it
This is pure beauty, honestly
I never heard about Amichai's work, and read it because i wanted to know new poets
I don't regret it at all
Every single poem resonated in me ; even when he talked about his faith, while i don't believe in God ; or when he talked about Jerusalem for exemple
I can only tell you to read it as soon as you can, you won't regret it
October 3, 2019
I really wish I had more patience for poetry than I do. But I don't. There are some really wonderful verses here but most of the poems in this book simply didn't work for me. This gap in my readerly interests annoys and distresses me, but it's possible that I am just not a poetry person.
November 23, 2020
They are beautifully translated into English. I think the translators had done a good job capturing and retaining the "poetic" part of the poems. Made me wonder how was it like in in original language, could it be even more heart capturing ?
May 31, 2017
Great book
August 2, 2025
"The Place Where We Are Right"
From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the spring.
The place where we are right
is hard and trampled
like a yard.
But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
where the ruined
house once stood.
"Jerusalem"
On a roof in the Old City
laundry hanging in the late afternoon sunlight:
the white sheet of a woman who is my enemy,
the towel of a man who is my enemy,
to wipe off the sweat of his brow.
In the sky of the Old City
a kite.
At the other end of the string,
a child
I can’t see
because of the wall.
We have put up many flags,
they have put up many flags.
To make us think that they’re happy.
To make them think that we’re happy.
"A Pity. We Were Such a Good Invention"
They amputated
your thighs off my hips.
As far as I'm concerned
they are all surgeons. All of them.
They dismantled us
each from the other.
As far as I'm concerned
they are all engineers. All of them.
A pity. We were such a good
and loving invention:
an aeroplane made of a man and a woman,
wings and all:
we hovered a little above the earth.
We even flew a little.
"All the Generations Before Me"
All the generations before me donated me little by little so I’d rise up all at
once in Jerusalem
like a house of prayer or a charitable institution.
That’s a big obligation. My name
is the name of my donors.
That’s a big obligation.
I am getting close to the age
when my father died.
My will is patched in many
places.
Each day I have to change my
life and my death
to fulfill all the prophecies
that prophesied me. So they
won’t be lies.
That’s a big obligation.
I have passed my fortieth year.
There are
places where I wouldn’t be hired
for that very reason. If I’d been
in Auschwitz,
they wouldn’t have sent me to
work,
they would have burned me on
the spot.
That’s a big obligation.
"My Father, My King"
My father, my king, groundless
love and groundless hatred
have made my face resemble the
face of this ruined land.
The years have transformed me
into a pain taster.
Like a wine taster I distinguish
between varieties of silence,
knowing what is dead, and who.
My father, my king, act so that
my face will not be ripped apart
by laughter or by tears.
My father, my king, act so that I
will not be tormented
by all that befalls me
between desire and sadness; and
so that
all that I do against my will
will seem like my will. And my
will like flowers.
From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the spring.
The place where we are right
is hard and trampled
like a yard.
But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
where the ruined
house once stood.
"Jerusalem"
On a roof in the Old City
laundry hanging in the late afternoon sunlight:
the white sheet of a woman who is my enemy,
the towel of a man who is my enemy,
to wipe off the sweat of his brow.
In the sky of the Old City
a kite.
At the other end of the string,
a child
I can’t see
because of the wall.
We have put up many flags,
they have put up many flags.
To make us think that they’re happy.
To make them think that we’re happy.
"A Pity. We Were Such a Good Invention"
They amputated
your thighs off my hips.
As far as I'm concerned
they are all surgeons. All of them.
They dismantled us
each from the other.
As far as I'm concerned
they are all engineers. All of them.
A pity. We were such a good
and loving invention:
an aeroplane made of a man and a woman,
wings and all:
we hovered a little above the earth.
We even flew a little.
"All the Generations Before Me"
All the generations before me donated me little by little so I’d rise up all at
once in Jerusalem
like a house of prayer or a charitable institution.
That’s a big obligation. My name
is the name of my donors.
That’s a big obligation.
I am getting close to the age
when my father died.
My will is patched in many
places.
Each day I have to change my
life and my death
to fulfill all the prophecies
that prophesied me. So they
won’t be lies.
That’s a big obligation.
I have passed my fortieth year.
There are
places where I wouldn’t be hired
for that very reason. If I’d been
in Auschwitz,
they wouldn’t have sent me to
work,
they would have burned me on
the spot.
That’s a big obligation.
"My Father, My King"
My father, my king, groundless
love and groundless hatred
have made my face resemble the
face of this ruined land.
The years have transformed me
into a pain taster.
Like a wine taster I distinguish
between varieties of silence,
knowing what is dead, and who.
My father, my king, act so that
my face will not be ripped apart
by laughter or by tears.
My father, my king, act so that I
will not be tormented
by all that befalls me
between desire and sadness; and
so that
all that I do against my will
will seem like my will. And my
will like flowers.
April 21, 2018
A Hebrew poet who wrote intimately about Judaism, Jerusalem, and the body, Amichai moved from Germany to Palestine with his parents in 1936, when he was 12. The area was wracked with wars throughout his life and they are a frequent topic of his poetry. As is his pubic hair. An evocative poem about grief and the passage of time might be followed by one talking about genitalia. Sex. Or childhood. Amichai plays with grammar and syntax as much as rhyme scheme, and my hat is off to the translators who have to massage these complicated images from one language to another. Overall, the poetry is very accessible and you can glean a reasonable amount of meaning from it in one or two readings. The only things I didn't like was the incessant pubic hair and his representation of women; they often were presented as just extensions of the male viewer/narrators's desires and not as separate, autonomous beings. A weirdly one-dimensional portrayal. Despite that, his work is a creative and interesting addition to the poetry pantheon, and worth taking a look at.
March 15, 2025
In reading through Amichai's prodigious body of poems, it becomes clear he buttressed a soaring new vernacular for the modern Jewish poetic tradition. His kaleidoscopic allusions to his parents and young lovers, Torah, Passover and Yom Kippur, Job and Esther, David and Jonathan, Jerusalem and Israel, war and the waiting, and the eternal inner dialogue between God and humanity develop fuller resonance with each successive poem and poem section. This collection serves as a fitting testament to the 20th century's prophet of Hebrew poetry and Jewish expression.
June 16, 2018
For me, Amichai's strongest poems are those that focus on and explore a single metaphor. "Jacob and the Angel" and "Air Hostess" do this very well. While this collection is exhaustive in covering Amichai over the years, that same comprehensiveness also shows how often the poet covers the same topics with the same language over and over again. Or, conversely, how quickly he switches metaphors from one line to the next leaving this reader dizzy or left behind altogether.
October 7, 2018
"The three languages I know,
All the colors in which I see and dream:
None will help me."
- from “Like Our Bodies’ Imprint“
"And like a dark branch that is white
where it is broken,
I too am bright in my love."
- from “Street“
"Sometimes pus,
sometimes poetry —
always something is excreted,
always pain."
- from “Ibn Gabirol”
"The two of them together and each of them alone."
All the colors in which I see and dream:
None will help me."
- from “Like Our Bodies’ Imprint“
"And like a dark branch that is white
where it is broken,
I too am bright in my love."
- from “Street“
"Sometimes pus,
sometimes poetry —
always something is excreted,
always pain."
- from “Ibn Gabirol”
"The two of them together and each of them alone."
December 15, 2019
Something I saw recently brought to mind a Yehuda Amichai poem, so I’ve been reading his collected and my soul feels better now that this book is among my possessions. “The Place Where We Are Right” (from 1963) could have been written this week, and so many of the poems, even these shorter ones, feel similarly enduring.
October 4, 2021
I expected lots of amazing, hope-filles poems, but instead found the author to be a man clinging to life and love instead of his faith. He seems to have lost that over the years. I should have done more research about the author before reading the collection. But it was interesting to see the soul of a man unfold in front of you through his poems. Interesting read.
May 10, 2026
There are a lot of really great lines and ideas, very few great poems. I feel like this could be a translation issue, or it could be that Amichai didn't have the discipline of consistency. A lot of lines feel banal, some feel glorious in their simplicity.
It's hard to know for sure with poetry.
It's hard to know for sure with poetry.
July 23, 2018
The Poetry of Yehuda Amichai is vivid and bold, delicately tender, often ironic, sometimes forbidden, but always inspiring and original. This compilation is one of the most moving collections of poetry I have had the pleasure of reading.
Did Not Finish
August 5, 2020DNF on page 67.
If it was the length of most poetry collections I read, I probably would have finished it and rated it 3 stars.
But this collection is 526 pages long!
I don't have the energy to invest that much time in something I'm feeling average about.
If it was the length of most poetry collections I read, I probably would have finished it and rated it 3 stars.
But this collection is 526 pages long!
I don't have the energy to invest that much time in something I'm feeling average about.
September 5, 2022
A beautiful collection. Amachai’s use of language, paired with his understanding of culture and religion, works together to make some truly beautiful poetry. I can only imagine how much more impactful his work is in its original language.
July 22, 2025
Four and a half stars.
There are some excellent poems here. His love poetry is probably his main strength. Any weaker poems are mostly from his earlier books before he had completely found his voice.
There are some excellent poems here. His love poetry is probably his main strength. Any weaker poems are mostly from his earlier books before he had completely found his voice.
November 21, 2019
Achingly brilliant
February 17, 2020
Brilliant, especially the affectionate love poems. In addition, his poems echo a profound national Tradition.
May 18, 2020
"Like a newspaper pinned to a fence by the wind, so my soul is stuck to me." - Yehuda Amichai
September 28, 2020
Tender, visionary, helps me weep and rejoice.
February 13, 2023
Of the books/translations included in here, Open Closed Open (1998, tr. Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld) was my favorite.
February 22, 2024
colonizer poetry is bad poetry, sorry not sorry.
February 21, 2026
He's not the zionist you think he is. there's a demand for accountability in his gaze.
a lot of Torah/old testament allegory (if that's your thing).
I appreciate the insight, the flow, the imagery.
a lot of Torah/old testament allegory (if that's your thing).
I appreciate the insight, the flow, the imagery.
July 22, 2026
started reading this book because of a poem I read in a class that I really liked. unfortunately I no longer remember the title of the poem and this book was too long for me to find it.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 43 reviews