a poem

I read this poem in the NEW YORKER, and I was stunned by its beauty:

NOW, WHEN THE WATERS ARE PRESSING MIGHTILY
(Yehuda Amichai, translated from the Hebrew by Leon Wieseltier)

Now, when the waters are pressing mightily
on the walls of the dams,
now when the white storks, returning,
are transformed in the middle of the firmament
into fleets of jet planes,
we will feel again how strong are the ribs
and how vigorous is the warm air in the lungs
and how much daring is needed to love on the exposed plain,
when the great dangers are arched above,
and how much love is required
to fill all the empty vessels
and the watches that stopped telling time,
and how much breath,
a whirlwind of breath,
to sing the small song of spring.