There is no happy ending for this song of love, and for any song. Her happiness and comfort should be revealed in her very being, in her awareness of the depth of her loneliness and the truth, that love poetry is a way of love: she is love. This is how a poet's heart-wrenching experiences, personal and intimate as they may be, became a love poem for every poetry lover, containing within it the lover, the beloved and everything in between. Leah, in her milk and blood, in her feverish soul, left behind her a song of love. There are no happy loves there, but their sadness, miraculously, fills our hearts with a happiness that we don't need words. Publisher: Sefrit Poalim Year of publication: 1997
