After love there is a transience,
A dog after love ,one sets after
To bite a jealousy of love gone.
A Jewish transience is like ours.
Their mom is like our own ma,
Searching for son in wild bush.
Jew had hid son in it from war
Just like the Indian one asking
Why son had hung high notes.
(Remembering the poem “for my mother” by Yahuda Amichai)