This way down to the hot street
Was for me a path to the world
Of a drunk selling cold Malabe
With peanuts and red sugary syrup
A belt for 10 (shekels) and a free cassette tape
Grape juice and a newspaper for those that wait
A movie theater that shows “blue” movies
And a Persian hat with embroidery

I would go down to the old station
And it was to me a different country
A country of waiting reality
When the rain is falling and when the sun is shining

Suddenly I belong and sometimes I am outside
In a cramped and hurrying world
Among avenues of inexpensive shoes
And Falafel stands with all the extras
Public bathrooms that you can smell from afar
Taxi drivers that never learned to be quiet
Drunk and blind men look at the world
Yeshiva students earning free Mitzvahs.

I would go down to the old station…

On the way to the brilliant Tel Aviv
I stop at the cracked reality
Of pita with Zatar and an egg on the side
Of the doubt of Rabbis with hands extended
For 10 shekels three cassettes
With familiar songs from all the countries
And the black mud on the sidewalks
And a driver mutters half a blessing

I would go down to the old station…

התחנה הישנה