Raquel Angel Nagler
My name is Raquel Angel Nagler. I was born in Haifa, Israel, in 1949. After my army service I studied in Haifa University (B.A. in statistics and economics) . Later on I graduated from the medical school of Padua, italy, and specialized in pneumology.
For the last 27 years I am living and working in Athens, Greece. My family includes a husband, a son and two cats.
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Raquel Angel Nagler Poems
In the depth of my mind My thoughts don't see. Like fish at the bottom of the ocean The feel their way among old sunken ships:
Scarred Mirrors (25)
Maybe The road means promise. I voyage by you To a 'sometime' named future
Scarred Mirrors (2)
You: an adolescent river. Young water. I drink you with all the mouths I have: The mouth of thirst. The mouth of laughter. The mouth of loneliness.
Scarred Mirrors (57)
You: whole. Wounded. Sensual. Pure. Aerial. Terrestrial. Your name: night. Your name: love.
A pond Ruby birds of autumn Drink the water mirror, their captive halcyon days, In the human way:
Scarred Mirrors (16)
While we still have hands We touch The answers of our bodies.
Scarred Mirrors (55)
The night, the immense peace, Leaves its colors on my fingers. I paint your silence. I paint your sleep.
Mad Mirrors (8)
I write words As lost, as definite As steps in the night.
THE SHORE OF SOCIETY Silent as sand I am born with the shore in my mouth: The congenital terror of the sea.
The ritual of dinners Beneath the weight of twilight The table-cloth, Soaked with the smell of little dinners,
Behind the line of solitude, hardened on the lips, My rocks live with their back to the sea, Still looking for the face of the rain: The purified memories.
When I turn and return Among years that don't remember me My body whispers: I know it for years now.
We Can't Posses Life
Maybe trying to possess life Means to lose it. I wanted to keep the breeze, the voices In the bag of my voyage.
Lately I feel Like a lost shoe, detached from the step. Its open mouth Condemned to become a sigh in the sand.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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In the depth of my mind
My thoughts don't see.
Like fish at the bottom of the ocean
The feel their way among old sunken ships:
My anchors of sadness.