The place where we are right -- a poem

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./ Again, thank you, you who sent this.