The Place Where We Are Right

The Place Where We Are Right

by Yehuda Amichai

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.