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Poem

Nathan Alterman

On the Highroad

There\'s a tinkling in the pasture and a whistling
And the field lies in gold till evening.
A hush of green wells,
My wide open spaces and a road.


The trees risen from the dew
Gleam like glass and metal.
I shall never stop looking, I shall never stop breathing
And I shall die and will keep going.

On the Highroad

Close

On the Highroad

There\'s a tinkling in the pasture and a whistling
And the field lies in gold till evening.
A hush of green wells,
My wide open spaces and a road.


The trees risen from the dew
Gleam like glass and metal.
I shall never stop looking, I shall never stop breathing
And I shall die and will keep going.

On the Highroad

There\'s a tinkling in the pasture and a whistling
And the field lies in gold till evening.
A hush of green wells,
My wide open spaces and a road.


The trees risen from the dew
Gleam like glass and metal.
I shall never stop looking, I shall never stop breathing
And I shall die and will keep going.
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