A Translation

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Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros – Home


There are times when a man is at home and does what he’s used to doing. Everyday things. And his face is calm because he’s alone. And all of a sudden, he raises his eyes and realizes that the curtains aren’t drawn and that people are staring at him from outside.
The peering crowd sees him reading, eating, gazing, nodding his head, laughing. Everyday things and his face is serene. And the passers-by are doing everyday things too. They go to work, visit the doctor, walk the dog, buy groceries and with worried faces, peek to see the man inside his home.
One night, a mighty wind blew and rain washed the house. In the morning, the sun shined, the sky cleared up and the people outside stared at the house. The blinds were shut. At the entrance, between two brown suitcases, the man waited and his eyes were down. He tried to remember if he packed the family portrait that was hung on the wall. A taxi stopped and the driver hurriedly placed the suitcases in the trunk. The people stood in a semicircle and scrunched the wrinkles between their eyes. So the man pointed to a lit house across the street. There they saw a woman sewing, a man reading the newspaper, a girl covering her doll and a boy building a tower. And so their faces became peaceful.
The engine of the cab made a loud noise, which drew back the crowd’s attention, and they stared at it until it disappeared. The man sat in the back seat and his face was calm, because soon he would be alone.

Originally written in Hebrew by my mother

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