Diti Ronen

Diti Ronen

Diti Ronen is a poet and an editor. She published six poetry books, as well as numerous essays and articles. Ronen’s poetry was translated into many languages and was published in literary magazines and anthologies worldwide. She regularly performs her poetry in varied stages in Israel and around the world.

Dr. Diti Ronen is a theatre researcher. She teaches Arts, Theatre and Cultural Policy to post graduate students at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

Ronen was born in Israel. She is the mother of five, and lives in Neve Monoson, a community near Tel Aviv.


  • The Return of the House and its Wanderings, (Poems, Hebrew), Hakibutz Hameuhad, 2016, Israel (215 pp)
  • Quand la maison revient, (Poems, French. Translated by Michel Eckhard), Levant, 2016, France (49 pp)
  • Une maison fissuree des poems, (Poems, French and Hebrew. Translated by Isabel Dotan), Gros Textes, 2014, France (42 pp)
  • littlebird (An epic poem, English and Hebrew. Translated by the poet and edited by Lynn Dion), Bar Ilan University, 2009, Israel (58 pp)
  • Inner Moon – Notebook, (Poems, Hebrew), Hakibutz Hameuhad, 2002, Israel (62 pp)
  • With the Slip Showing, (Poems, Hebrew), Gvanim, 1999, Israel (78 pp)


  • Kuggel Literary Award (Israel, 2016)
  • Terra Poetica Award (Ukraine, 2014)
  • A Special contribution to Literature (Macedonia, 2011)
  • Best Poetic Cycle (Macedonia, 2011)
  • The Golden Inkwell (Israel, 2006)
  • Ministry of Culture’s General Manager Award (Israel, 2001)


  • A three months’ residency in Kuvempu University, Shimoga District, Karnataka, India (2012)
  • A three months’ residency in Mysore University, Karnataka, India (2010)

More about Diti Ronen at: ditironen.wordpress.com

And if a first memory is the last

I am a bunkers’ chill in my parents arms
an enemy’s aircraft rumble
crossing a darkened city’s midnight sky,
I am a beam of sunlight shining upon the waves
I am a breeze drifting among mountain pines
a soft hill, a daffodil,
I am a dread of bullets, rockets, bombs
I am a prayer, sheltering my head with my arms, I pray
Oh how I pray, my God, I pray; ‘may it not fall on me‘,
I am a vineyard, poetry, a dance and wine
I am an act of love on a cliff
a full moon’s light and a million stars,
I am muted wailing and endless grieving
I am blood and earth, earth and blood
dripping red
weaving red
pulling a thick blanket
covering up ruins of a city and its dust
babies and the aged
children’s dreams
the graves of my beloveds.
If a first memory is the last
on a Mediterranean Sea shore
I am being born a thousand times
and a thousand times I die.

© Translation by Narda Azaria Dalgleish and the poet

Published with the permission of Diti Ronen