Tali Cohen Shabtai, Israel new member

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    Tali Cohen Shabtai, Israel
    Member of IWA BOGDANI

    Tali Cohen Shabtai, is a poet she was born in Jerusalem Israel
    Tali began writing poetry at young age of six, she was an excellent literature student.
    She began Publishing her impressions in the school’s newspaper.
    She firstly published her poetry in a respectful literature magazine in Israel the “Moznayim”at age 15

    Tali has written three poetry books:

    “Purple diluted in a black’s thick “ bilingual 2007
    “Protest” bilingual 2012
    “Nine years away from you”2018,
    Two of her books are bilingual , and the third book  “Nine years from you” is scheduled to be published in foreign edition abroad.
    Tali’s poems expresses spiritual and physical exile. Cohen is studying her exile and freedom paradox, Her cosmopolitan vision is very obvious in her writing Cohen Shabtai lived years in Oslo Norway, the USA. She is very prominent as a poet with special lyric”she doesn’t give herself easily, but subject to her own rules”.
    Tali studied at the “David Yellin College of Education” for a bachelor’s degree. She is a member of the Hebrew Writers Association and the Israeli Writers Association in the state of Israel. In 2014, Cohen Shabtai also participated in a Norwegian documentary about poets’ lives called “The Last Bohemian”- “Den Siste Bohemien”,and screened in the cinema in Scandinavia.

    By 2020, her fourth book of poetry will be published which will also be published in Norwegian.

    To exit out the soul \translated by Eitan Medini

    I have to pave
    This road
    Free of chasms

    Otherwise
    My wings will be
    Split
    Immediately

    And my cloths
    Cloths of
    A prisoner

     

    Two\translated by Eitan Medini

    I don’t listen to songs
    In them the singer thinks in double
    And indeed
    Two half exist in the buttock
    In the brain

    Last night
    The salesman offer me
    at the books’ desk
    A book of collection of love songs
    And I refused it.
    They are not different
    Than nice letters which granted
    A roof for two
    Between a sender and recipient
    Most of them an absence of the
    Sender exists

    No need for this sensitivity to come
    To an expression
    And to an accusations of humanity
    Since the singles
    Are many

    But with this to animate a lover in writing
    Is an action with
    Few steps
    And often
    Even overlapping
    From – describing (the lover) by the elements
    As of / altar / idol, holy of holy
    Ritual and even a binding
    Using an exaggeration like this is a curiosity
    And a distortion

    If we will confess this
    kind of necessity
    To his second half according to the saying
    Of ‘the type of the most love stimulus ‘
    Is the one which provides the bodily proximity

    And love indeed distorting
    The deficiencies

    So let assume you understood
    My approach
    To the term love.

    Salonnière\ translated by Eitan Medini

    I live with a vieille dame
    Among her Prozac and cigarettes
    She welcomed me by a first introduction
    With Anne Sexton’s book in 1967

    She gave me a contract to stay neurotic in her
    House
    And behave like a
    Petite Muette beside her bedroom

    At that time she looked like a hostess in a house of ill
    Repute,
    Walking like a salonnière in her salon littéraire (never with visitors)
    With that appearance of maison-close, then
    She invited men to clean her old furniture
    From new dust

    I met her first seven years ago,
    The time it took for her foundation
    To blend un parfume
    To her taste
    Less than the time it took me to find
    The favored delicacy for my
    Lady cat

    I barely could read her language, but –
    We were aware to the provocation of
    Douleur-pain.

    She would not be surprised by any disgrace
    I would bring into my life
    Neither by any sensation I would choose to have
    In my colors le matin.

    She warned me from being a
    Poète maudit – a cursed poet.
    I watched her, I knew.

    It all started with a clothes cuprard.

    A nose with multiple faces\translated by Eitan Medini

    When I lean
    My
    Face downward
    The peak of my nose
    Looks like upturned nose

    When
    I turn sideward
    My nose
    Is long
    And sharpen

    When I am smiling
    Straightforward
    To an item
    In front of me
    My nose looked
    Rounded

    I do have a multi faces nose

     

    My cat\translated by Eitan Medini

    There is a strange silence
    Somebody died on the sofa
    May be it’s not the one by me who died
    When I counted the number of the dead
    In this silence

    She has stolen the death, very fast
    In the breaks between
    Inhalation and exhalation
    No number of soldiers will
    Worship the death of a newborn
    Of 4.9 kg
    Who has been to ashes
    I have been with her
    One year

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