590
PARTISAN REVIEW
and glowering, a sunken city is rising slowly to the surface, a city of
spires, towers, old battlements, partly in ruins, blackened by
fire ... and now a cathedral of massive dimensions, its highest
tower partly crumbled, its edifice stark and grim . . . and now a
cobblestone street, puddled with bright water that strikes the eye like
flame ... Cecilia, alone, is half-running along the empty street, she
is both relieved that it is empty and on the brink of terror, for what if
she is lost?- Yet she cannot be lost since she seems to know where
she is headed, hurrying forward as if in full possession of her senses,
looking neither to the left nor the right. She is barefoot, only partly
dressed. She is breathless with fear. No matter, she seems to know
where she is going, behind her footsteps suddenly sound, close
behind her, overtaking her, but she does not intend to turn her head.
Joyce Carol Oates's latest book is
Mysteries of Winterthurn,
recently
published by E.
P.
Dutton.
Amos Oz
ONE SUMMER'S MORNING,
IN THE VILLAGE
All night long mist rises from the green swamp, spreading
a smell of decay among our huts. Objects made of iron rust here
overnight, the wooden walls are disintegrating in the clutches of the
sickly vegetation, straw and hay turn black like scorched fields, mos–
quitoes swarm in the dank air, our rooms are full of flying insects
Editor's Note: Translated from the Hebrew by Nicholas de Lange.
