A human being isn’t but a handful of soil with spirit inside it,
Like a beet or a Mandrake root.
Life is but a nuisance
(pure brain power was given to children)
If a young woman blooms alone and unseen
Is it really a blossom?
So say the people at the coffee shop on the main road, it seems
And the sun dives into the tree-tops of the plane-tree and scatters its leaves.
Tama Hazak was born in Kibbutz Afikim in 1971, daughter to Aya and the poet Yechiel Hazak. After spending two years in London she moved with her mother to Tel Aviv and was tested and declared as a special gifted child. At age of ten she moved with her mother Aya and Ofer Azrielant to New York, studied at Horace Mann and University of Chicago, majored in Philosophy and literature and was on the dean’s list. Tama served two years in the Israeli army, studied librarian studies, painted and created. She published her first poetry book, silence of sand pouring, one year ago. Now she lives in Jerusalem, continues her studies and works as translator of Hebrew to English.