Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
More Annotations
A complete backup of https://hersheyschocolateworldlasvegas.com
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
A complete backup of https://118218.fr
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
A complete backup of https://minszw.nl
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
A complete backup of https://trailwaysny.com
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
A complete backup of https://casual-effects.com
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
A complete backup of https://valenth.com
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
A complete backup of https://broadwap.com
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
A complete backup of https://mhfh.com
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
A complete backup of https://ccbrugge.be
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
A complete backup of https://eaglepack.com
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
A complete backup of https://inriver.com
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
Favourite Annotations
Все что нужно знать о часах | Часовой Алфавит
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
Apache HTTP Server Test Page powered by CentOS
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
Font Bundles | The Best Free and Premium Font Bundles
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
HOME | Center for Executive Excellence
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
El cuento hispanoamericano
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
A complete backup of alkalimaonline.com
Are you over 18 and want to see adult content?
Text
in the
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GOETHE: PROMETHEUS (FROM GERMAN) With cloud vapor. And try Your strike, as a boy. Beheading thistles, Against oaken tree and mountain height; You still must leave me. My Earth standing. And my hut which You did not build, And my hearth, home's glowing. Fire which You begrudge me. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MESOMEDES: HYMN TO NEMESIS Man's glinting fortunes turn on earth. You come in oblivion's cloak to bend. The grandeur-deluded rebel neck, With forearm measuring out lifetimes, With brow frowning into the heart of man. And the yoke raised sovereign in Your hand. Hail in the highest, O justice-queen. Nemesis, winged tilter POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: BIALIK: ON THE BUTCHERY OF In the spring of 1903, Kishinev was the site of a massive Pogrom which made all previous Russian Jew-hunts look like petty exercises. Bialik himself was sent on behalf of the Jewish Historical Commission in Odessa, to interview survivors and prepare a report. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: TO MY MOTHER Mahmoud Darwish: To My Mother (From Arabic) Mother's brushing touch. Day upon day in me. My mother's tears would shame me. As on holy land. With thread strung from the back of your dress. If I but touch your heart's deep breadth. On your roof as a clothesline stretched in yourhands. I
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEDD WYN: WAR (FROM WELSH) Ellis Evans (1987-1917), the eldest of eleven children (that's right, eleven) was a Welsh sheep-farmer (because no biography is complete without instantiating a stereotype or two) who began writing poetry at an absurdly young age under the pen-name of "Hedd Wyn" (White Peace.) POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: DU FU: THE DEFEAT AT The Defeat at Greenslope: A Lament By Dù Fŭ Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite this poem in English (Winter of 765. Dù Fŭ writes as though he was present at the battle, although he was actually a captive behind enemy lines in Cháng'ān.) At Greenslope by the East Gate the last POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION Eyes fixed on that deathmaw, in fear of glutting. And then Scylla struck, whisked up six of my men, Our six strongest hands. As I spun my eyes aft. At good craft and dear crew I caught sight of their feet. And hands adangle overhead. Their voices. Cried out in hellhorror, calling me by name. That one last time. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: I AM FROM I have a prison cell's cold window, a wave. Snatched by seagulls, my own view, an extra blade. Of grass, a moon at word's end, a supply. Of birds, and an olive tree that cannot die. I walked and crossed the land before the crossing. Of swords made a banquet-table of a body. I come from there, and I return the sky. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: PUSHKIN: THE PROPHET (FROM Of guile and idle caviling; And with his bloody fingertips. He set between my wasting lips. A Serpent's wise and forkèd sting. And with his sword he cleft my chest. And ripped my quaking heart out whole, And in my sundered breast he cast. A blazing shard of living coal. There in the desert I lay dead. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GÉRARD DE NERVAL: ANTEROS 1 - Anteros, the speaker, is the Greek god of requital- the fosterer of requited love, and punisher of those who scorn others. 2 - Antaeus, son of Poseidon, was a giant who wrestled Heracles. 3 - "The Avenger":- probably Phthonos, Greek spirit of envy. 4 - Baal is a Canaanite deity whose worship is punished and forbidden by God/Yahwehin the
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GOETHE: PROMETHEUS (FROM GERMAN) With cloud vapor. And try Your strike, as a boy. Beheading thistles, Against oaken tree and mountain height; You still must leave me. My Earth standing. And my hut which You did not build, And my hearth, home's glowing. Fire which You begrudge me. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MESOMEDES: HYMN TO NEMESIS Man's glinting fortunes turn on earth. You come in oblivion's cloak to bend. The grandeur-deluded rebel neck, With forearm measuring out lifetimes, With brow frowning into the heart of man. And the yoke raised sovereign in Your hand. Hail in the highest, O justice-queen. Nemesis, winged tilter POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: BIALIK: ON THE BUTCHERY OF In the spring of 1903, Kishinev was the site of a massive Pogrom which made all previous Russian Jew-hunts look like petty exercises. Bialik himself was sent on behalf of the Jewish Historical Commission in Odessa, to interview survivors and prepare a report. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: TO MY MOTHER Mahmoud Darwish: To My Mother (From Arabic) Mother's brushing touch. Day upon day in me. My mother's tears would shame me. As on holy land. With thread strung from the back of your dress. If I but touch your heart's deep breadth. On your roof as a clothesline stretched in yourhands. I
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEDD WYN: WAR (FROM WELSH) Ellis Evans (1987-1917), the eldest of eleven children (that's right, eleven) was a Welsh sheep-farmer (because no biography is complete without instantiating a stereotype or two) who began writing poetry at an absurdly young age under the pen-name of "Hedd Wyn" (White Peace.) POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: DU FU: THE DEFEAT AT The Defeat at Greenslope: A Lament By Dù Fŭ Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite this poem in English (Winter of 765. Dù Fŭ writes as though he was present at the battle, although he was actually a captive behind enemy lines in Cháng'ān.) At Greenslope by the East Gate the last POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GÉRARD DE NERVAL: ANTEROS 1 - Anteros, the speaker, is the Greek god of requital- the fosterer of requited love, and punisher of those who scorn others. 2 - Antaeus, son of Poseidon, was a giant who wrestled Heracles. 3 - "The Avenger":- probably Phthonos, Greek spirit of envy. 4 - Baal is a Canaanite deity whose worship is punished and forbidden by God/Yahwehin the
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: TO MY MOTHER Mahmoud Darwish: To My Mother (From Arabic) Mother's brushing touch. Day upon day in me. My mother's tears would shame me. As on holy land. With thread strung from the back of your dress. If I but touch your heart's deep breadth. On your roof as a clothesline stretched in yourhands. I
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GARCILASO DE LA VEGA: "WHILE Sonnet XXIII By Garcilaso de la Vega Translated by A.Z. Foreman Requested by Enrique Flores While there is yet the color of the rose And of the lily in your countenance, POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEINRICH HEINE: THE PINE AND The Pine and the Palm. By Heinrich Heine. Translated by A.Z. Foreman. There stands a pine tree- lonesome. In the north on a barren height. In slumber. Ice and snowstorm. Wrap it in sheets of white. It dreamsabout a palmtree.
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: DU FU: THE DEFEAT AT The Defeat at Greenslope: A Lament By Dù Fŭ Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite this poem in English (Winter of 765. Dù Fŭ writes as though he was present at the battle, although he was actually a captive behind enemy lines in Cháng'ān.) At Greenslope by the East Gate the last POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: LOUISE LABÉ: SONNET 8 (FROM Louise Labé: Sonnet 8 (From French) I live, I die: I burn myself, I drown. I'm hot in the extreme while suffering cold. Life is too soft for me, too hard to hold. In pleasure, my heart finds great pangs and grief. The good flies off, yet stays without relief. At once I blossom green, and wither brown. With scarce a thought I find myselfpain-free.
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: ANTONIO MACHADO: "WAYFARER By Antonio Machado. Translated by A.Z Foreman. Wayfarer, the only way. Is your footprints and no other. Wayfarer, there is no way. Make your way by going farther. By going farther, make your way. Till looking back at where you've wandered, You look back on that path you may. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: YEHUDA AMICHAI: EIN YAHAV A night drive to Ein Yahav1 in the Arabah. A drive in the rain. Yes, in the rain. There, I met people who grow date palms. And I said to myself: It is the truth. Hope must be. Like barbed wire to keep out our despair. Hope must be a minefield. 1 - Ein Yahav is a moshav (farming community) whose name literally translates to "Wellspring ofHope
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: PUSHKIN: ODE TO LIBERTY (FROM Notes: 1 I.e. Venus Aphrodite, associated in antiquity with the Ionian island of Cythera. 2 The identity of this "exalted Gaul" is one of the many quarrels with which scholars of Pushkinian minutiae have busied themselves. Possibilities range from Nabokov's suggestion of the minor poet Ponce Denis Ecouchard Le Brun, to the sadly underrated (by modern critics) poet André Chénier who died on POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: ANNE HÉBERT: WOMAN BATHING Baigneuse. Anne Hébert. Soleil en pluie sur la mer. Soleil roux soleil jaune. Blanc soleil de midi. Bleu soleil sur la mer. Mélange des eaux et du feu. A midi. Onde profonde où je descends. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION Eyes fixed on that deathmaw, in fear of glutting. And then Scylla struck, whisked up six of my men, Our six strongest hands. As I spun my eyes aft. At good craft and dear crew I caught sight of their feet. And hands adangle overhead. Their voices. Cried out in hellhorror, calling me by name. That one last time. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: I AM FROM I have a prison cell's cold window, a wave. Snatched by seagulls, my own view, an extra blade. Of grass, a moon at word's end, a supply. Of birds, and an olive tree that cannot die. I walked and crossed the land before the crossing. Of swords made a banquet-table of a body. I come from there, and I return the sky. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: PUSHKIN: THE PROPHET (FROM Of guile and idle caviling; And with his bloody fingertips. He set between my wasting lips. A Serpent's wise and forkèd sting. And with his sword he cleft my chest. And ripped my quaking heart out whole, And in my sundered breast he cast. A blazing shard of living coal. There in the desert I lay dead. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GOETHE: PROMETHEUS (FROM GERMAN) With cloud vapor. And try Your strike, as a boy. Beheading thistles, Against oaken tree and mountain height; You still must leave me. My Earth standing. And my hut which You did not build, And my hearth, home's glowing. Fire which You begrudge me. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MESOMEDES: HYMN TO NEMESIS Man's glinting fortunes turn on earth. You come in oblivion's cloak to bend. The grandeur-deluded rebel neck, With forearm measuring out lifetimes, With brow frowning into the heart of man. And the yoke raised sovereign in Your hand. Hail in the highest, O justice-queen. Nemesis, winged tilter POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: TO MY MOTHER Mahmoud Darwish: To My Mother (From Arabic) Mother's brushing touch. Day upon day in me. My mother's tears would shame me. As on holy land. With thread strung from the back of your dress. If I but touch your heart's deep breadth. On your roof as a clothesline stretched in yourhands. I
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: BIALIK: ON THE BUTCHERY OF In the spring of 1903, Kishinev was the site of a massive Pogrom which made all previous Russian Jew-hunts look like petty exercises. Bialik himself was sent on behalf of the Jewish Historical Commission in Odessa, to interview survivors and prepare a report. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: DU FU: THE DEFEAT AT The Defeat at Greenslope: A Lament By Dù Fŭ Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite this poem in English (Winter of 765. Dù Fŭ writes as though he was present at the battle, although he was actually a captive behind enemy lines in Cháng'ān.) At Greenslope by the East Gate the last POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: SAMIH AL-QASIM: TRAVEL TICKETS The day I'm killed, my killer, rifling through my pockets, will find travel tickets: One to peace, one to the fields and the rain, and one. to the conscience of humankind. Dear killer of mine, I POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEDD WYN: WAR (FROM WELSH) Ellis Evans (1987-1917), the eldest of eleven children (that's right, eleven) was a Welsh sheep-farmer (because no biography is complete without instantiating a stereotype or two) who began writing poetry at an absurdly young age under the pen-name of "Hedd Wyn" (White Peace.) POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION Eyes fixed on that deathmaw, in fear of glutting. And then Scylla struck, whisked up six of my men, Our six strongest hands. As I spun my eyes aft. At good craft and dear crew I caught sight of their feet. And hands adangle overhead. Their voices. Cried out in hellhorror, calling me by name. That one last time. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: I AM FROM I have a prison cell's cold window, a wave. Snatched by seagulls, my own view, an extra blade. Of grass, a moon at word's end, a supply. Of birds, and an olive tree that cannot die. I walked and crossed the land before the crossing. Of swords made a banquet-table of a body. I come from there, and I return the sky. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: PUSHKIN: THE PROPHET (FROM Of guile and idle caviling; And with his bloody fingertips. He set between my wasting lips. A Serpent's wise and forkèd sting. And with his sword he cleft my chest. And ripped my quaking heart out whole, And in my sundered breast he cast. A blazing shard of living coal. There in the desert I lay dead. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GOETHE: PROMETHEUS (FROM GERMAN) With cloud vapor. And try Your strike, as a boy. Beheading thistles, Against oaken tree and mountain height; You still must leave me. My Earth standing. And my hut which You did not build, And my hearth, home's glowing. Fire which You begrudge me. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MESOMEDES: HYMN TO NEMESIS Man's glinting fortunes turn on earth. You come in oblivion's cloak to bend. The grandeur-deluded rebel neck, With forearm measuring out lifetimes, With brow frowning into the heart of man. And the yoke raised sovereign in Your hand. Hail in the highest, O justice-queen. Nemesis, winged tilter POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: TO MY MOTHER Mahmoud Darwish: To My Mother (From Arabic) Mother's brushing touch. Day upon day in me. My mother's tears would shame me. As on holy land. With thread strung from the back of your dress. If I but touch your heart's deep breadth. On your roof as a clothesline stretched in yourhands. I
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: BIALIK: ON THE BUTCHERY OF In the spring of 1903, Kishinev was the site of a massive Pogrom which made all previous Russian Jew-hunts look like petty exercises. Bialik himself was sent on behalf of the Jewish Historical Commission in Odessa, to interview survivors and prepare a report. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: DU FU: THE DEFEAT AT The Defeat at Greenslope: A Lament By Dù Fŭ Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite this poem in English (Winter of 765. Dù Fŭ writes as though he was present at the battle, although he was actually a captive behind enemy lines in Cháng'ān.) At Greenslope by the East Gate the last POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: SAMIH AL-QASIM: TRAVEL TICKETS The day I'm killed, my killer, rifling through my pockets, will find travel tickets: One to peace, one to the fields and the rain, and one. to the conscience of humankind. Dear killer of mine, I POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEDD WYN: WAR (FROM WELSH) Ellis Evans (1987-1917), the eldest of eleven children (that's right, eleven) was a Welsh sheep-farmer (because no biography is complete without instantiating a stereotype or two) who began writing poetry at an absurdly young age under the pen-name of "Hedd Wyn" (White Peace.) POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: DU FU: THE DEFEAT AT The Defeat at Greenslope: A Lament By Dù Fŭ Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite this poem in English (Winter of 765. Dù Fŭ writes as though he was present at the battle, although he was actually a captive behind enemy lines in Cháng'ān.) At Greenslope by the East Gate the last POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GARCILASO DE LA VEGA: "WHILE Sonnet XXIII By Garcilaso de la Vega Translated by A.Z. Foreman Requested by Enrique Flores While there is yet the color of the rose And of the lily in your countenance, POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: TO MY MOTHER Mahmoud Darwish: To My Mother (From Arabic) Mother's brushing touch. Day upon day in me. My mother's tears would shame me. As on holy land. With thread strung from the back of your dress. If I but touch your heart's deep breadth. On your roof as a clothesline stretched in yourhands. I
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEINRICH HEINE: THE PINE AND The Pine and the Palm. By Heinrich Heine. Translated by A.Z. Foreman. There stands a pine tree- lonesome. In the north on a barren height. In slumber. Ice and snowstorm. Wrap it in sheets of white. It dreamsabout a palmtree.
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: RILKE: FROM A STORMY NIGHT A.Z. Foreman is a translator and poet who has been obsessed with languages and literature since childhood View my complete profile POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: RONSARD: "WHEN YOU ARE OLD Translated by A.Z. Foreman. When you sit aging under evening's star. By hearth and candle, spinning yarns and wool, You'll sing my verse in awe and say "Ronsard. Wrought song of me when I was beautiful". Hearing such words, your serving-maid that night, Though half-asleep from drudging, all the same. Will wake at my name's sound and stand POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: LOUISE LABÉ: SONNET 8 (FROM Louise Labé: Sonnet 8 (From French) I live, I die: I burn myself, I drown. I'm hot in the extreme while suffering cold. Life is too soft for me, too hard to hold. In pleasure, my heart finds great pangs and grief. The good flies off, yet stays without relief. At once I blossom green, and wither brown. With scarce a thought I find myselfpain-free.
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: YEHUDA AMICHAI: EIN YAHAV A night drive to Ein Yahav1 in the Arabah. A drive in the rain. Yes, in the rain. There, I met people who grow date palms. And I said to myself: It is the truth. Hope must be. Like barbed wire to keep out our despair. Hope must be a minefield. 1 - Ein Yahav is a moshav (farming community) whose name literally translates to "Wellspring ofHope
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: ANTONIO MACHADO: "WAYFARER By Antonio Machado. Translated by A.Z Foreman. Wayfarer, the only way. Is your footprints and no other. Wayfarer, there is no way. Make your way by going farther. By going farther, make your way. Till looking back at where you've wandered, You look back on that path you may. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: PUSHKIN: ODE TO LIBERTY (FROM Notes: 1 I.e. Venus Aphrodite, associated in antiquity with the Ionian island of Cythera. 2 The identity of this "exalted Gaul" is one of the many quarrels with which scholars of Pushkinian minutiae have busied themselves. Possibilities range from Nabokov's suggestion of the minor poet Ponce Denis Ecouchard Le Brun, to the sadly underrated (by modern critics) poet André Chénier who died on POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION Eyes fixed on that deathmaw, in fear of glutting. And then Scylla struck, whisked up six of my men, Our six strongest hands. As I spun my eyes aft. At good craft and dear crew I caught sight of their feet. And hands adangle overhead. Their voices. Cried out in hellhorror, calling me by name. That one last time. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: I AM FROM I have a prison cell's cold window, a wave. Snatched by seagulls, my own view, an extra blade. Of grass, a moon at word's end, a supply. Of birds, and an olive tree that cannot die. I walked and crossed the land before the crossing. Of swords made a banquet-table of a body. I come from there, and I return the sky. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: PUSHKIN: THE PROPHET (FROM Of guile and idle caviling; And with his bloody fingertips. He set between my wasting lips. A Serpent's wise and forkèd sting. And with his sword he cleft my chest. And ripped my quaking heart out whole, And in my sundered breast he cast. A blazing shard of living coal. There in the desert I lay dead. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GOETHE: PROMETHEUS (FROM GERMAN) With cloud vapor. And try Your strike, as a boy. Beheading thistles, Against oaken tree and mountain height; You still must leave me. My Earth standing. And my hut which You did not build, And my hearth, home's glowing. Fire which You begrudge me. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MESOMEDES: HYMN TO NEMESIS Man's glinting fortunes turn on earth. You come in oblivion's cloak to bend. The grandeur-deluded rebel neck, With forearm measuring out lifetimes, With brow frowning into the heart of man. And the yoke raised sovereign in Your hand. Hail in the highest, O justice-queen. Nemesis, winged tilter POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: TO MY MOTHER Mahmoud Darwish: To My Mother (From Arabic) Mother's brushing touch. Day upon day in me. My mother's tears would shame me. As on holy land. With thread strung from the back of your dress. If I but touch your heart's deep breadth. On your roof as a clothesline stretched in yourhands. I
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: BIALIK: ON THE BUTCHERY OF In the spring of 1903, Kishinev was the site of a massive Pogrom which made all previous Russian Jew-hunts look like petty exercises. Bialik himself was sent on behalf of the Jewish Historical Commission in Odessa, to interview survivors and prepare a report. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: DU FU: THE DEFEAT AT The Defeat at Greenslope: A Lament By Dù Fŭ Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite this poem in English (Winter of 765. Dù Fŭ writes as though he was present at the battle, although he was actually a captive behind enemy lines in Cháng'ān.) At Greenslope by the East Gate the last POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: SAMIH AL-QASIM: TRAVEL TICKETS The day I'm killed, my killer, rifling through my pockets, will find travel tickets: One to peace, one to the fields and the rain, and one. to the conscience of humankind. Dear killer of mine, I POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEDD WYN: WAR (FROM WELSH) Ellis Evans (1987-1917), the eldest of eleven children (that's right, eleven) was a Welsh sheep-farmer (because no biography is complete without instantiating a stereotype or two) who began writing poetry at an absurdly young age under the pen-name of "Hedd Wyn" (White Peace.) POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION Eyes fixed on that deathmaw, in fear of glutting. And then Scylla struck, whisked up six of my men, Our six strongest hands. As I spun my eyes aft. At good craft and dear crew I caught sight of their feet. And hands adangle overhead. Their voices. Cried out in hellhorror, calling me by name. That one last time. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: I AM FROM I have a prison cell's cold window, a wave. Snatched by seagulls, my own view, an extra blade. Of grass, a moon at word's end, a supply. Of birds, and an olive tree that cannot die. I walked and crossed the land before the crossing. Of swords made a banquet-table of a body. I come from there, and I return the sky. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: PUSHKIN: THE PROPHET (FROM Of guile and idle caviling; And with his bloody fingertips. He set between my wasting lips. A Serpent's wise and forkèd sting. And with his sword he cleft my chest. And ripped my quaking heart out whole, And in my sundered breast he cast. A blazing shard of living coal. There in the desert I lay dead. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GOETHE: PROMETHEUS (FROM GERMAN) With cloud vapor. And try Your strike, as a boy. Beheading thistles, Against oaken tree and mountain height; You still must leave me. My Earth standing. And my hut which You did not build, And my hearth, home's glowing. Fire which You begrudge me. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MESOMEDES: HYMN TO NEMESIS Man's glinting fortunes turn on earth. You come in oblivion's cloak to bend. The grandeur-deluded rebel neck, With forearm measuring out lifetimes, With brow frowning into the heart of man. And the yoke raised sovereign in Your hand. Hail in the highest, O justice-queen. Nemesis, winged tilter POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: TO MY MOTHER Mahmoud Darwish: To My Mother (From Arabic) Mother's brushing touch. Day upon day in me. My mother's tears would shame me. As on holy land. With thread strung from the back of your dress. If I but touch your heart's deep breadth. On your roof as a clothesline stretched in yourhands. I
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: BIALIK: ON THE BUTCHERY OF In the spring of 1903, Kishinev was the site of a massive Pogrom which made all previous Russian Jew-hunts look like petty exercises. Bialik himself was sent on behalf of the Jewish Historical Commission in Odessa, to interview survivors and prepare a report. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: DU FU: THE DEFEAT AT The Defeat at Greenslope: A Lament By Dù Fŭ Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite this poem in English (Winter of 765. Dù Fŭ writes as though he was present at the battle, although he was actually a captive behind enemy lines in Cháng'ān.) At Greenslope by the East Gate the last POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: SAMIH AL-QASIM: TRAVEL TICKETS The day I'm killed, my killer, rifling through my pockets, will find travel tickets: One to peace, one to the fields and the rain, and one. to the conscience of humankind. Dear killer of mine, I POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEDD WYN: WAR (FROM WELSH) Ellis Evans (1987-1917), the eldest of eleven children (that's right, eleven) was a Welsh sheep-farmer (because no biography is complete without instantiating a stereotype or two) who began writing poetry at an absurdly young age under the pen-name of "Hedd Wyn" (White Peace.) POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: DU FU: THE DEFEAT AT The Defeat at Greenslope: A Lament By Dù Fŭ Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite this poem in English (Winter of 765. Dù Fŭ writes as though he was present at the battle, although he was actually a captive behind enemy lines in Cháng'ān.) At Greenslope by the East Gate the last POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GARCILASO DE LA VEGA: "WHILE Sonnet XXIII By Garcilaso de la Vega Translated by A.Z. Foreman Requested by Enrique Flores While there is yet the color of the rose And of the lily in your countenance, POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: TO MY MOTHER Mahmoud Darwish: To My Mother (From Arabic) Mother's brushing touch. Day upon day in me. My mother's tears would shame me. As on holy land. With thread strung from the back of your dress. If I but touch your heart's deep breadth. On your roof as a clothesline stretched in yourhands. I
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEINRICH HEINE: THE PINE AND The Pine and the Palm. By Heinrich Heine. Translated by A.Z. Foreman. There stands a pine tree- lonesome. In the north on a barren height. In slumber. Ice and snowstorm. Wrap it in sheets of white. It dreamsabout a palmtree.
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: RILKE: FROM A STORMY NIGHT A.Z. Foreman is a translator and poet who has been obsessed with languages and literature since childhood View my complete profile POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: RONSARD: "WHEN YOU ARE OLD Translated by A.Z. Foreman. When you sit aging under evening's star. By hearth and candle, spinning yarns and wool, You'll sing my verse in awe and say "Ronsard. Wrought song of me when I was beautiful". Hearing such words, your serving-maid that night, Though half-asleep from drudging, all the same. Will wake at my name's sound and stand POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: LOUISE LABÉ: SONNET 8 (FROM Louise Labé: Sonnet 8 (From French) I live, I die: I burn myself, I drown. I'm hot in the extreme while suffering cold. Life is too soft for me, too hard to hold. In pleasure, my heart finds great pangs and grief. The good flies off, yet stays without relief. At once I blossom green, and wither brown. With scarce a thought I find myselfpain-free.
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: YEHUDA AMICHAI: EIN YAHAV A night drive to Ein Yahav1 in the Arabah. A drive in the rain. Yes, in the rain. There, I met people who grow date palms. And I said to myself: It is the truth. Hope must be. Like barbed wire to keep out our despair. Hope must be a minefield. 1 - Ein Yahav is a moshav (farming community) whose name literally translates to "Wellspring ofHope
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: ANTONIO MACHADO: "WAYFARER By Antonio Machado. Translated by A.Z Foreman. Wayfarer, the only way. Is your footprints and no other. Wayfarer, there is no way. Make your way by going farther. By going farther, make your way. Till looking back at where you've wandered, You look back on that path you may. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: PUSHKIN: ODE TO LIBERTY (FROM Notes: 1 I.e. Venus Aphrodite, associated in antiquity with the Ionian island of Cythera. 2 The identity of this "exalted Gaul" is one of the many quarrels with which scholars of Pushkinian minutiae have busied themselves. Possibilities range from Nabokov's suggestion of the minor poet Ponce Denis Ecouchard Le Brun, to the sadly underrated (by modern critics) poet André Chénier who died on POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: I AM FROM I have a prison cell's cold window, a wave. Snatched by seagulls, my own view, an extra blade. Of grass, a moon at word's end, a supply. Of birds, and an olive tree that cannot die. I walked and crossed the land before the crossing. Of swords made a banquet-table of a body. I come from there, and I return the sky. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: PUSHKIN: THE PROPHET (FROM Of guile and idle caviling; And with his bloody fingertips. He set between my wasting lips. A Serpent's wise and forkèd sting. And with his sword he cleft my chest. And ripped my quaking heart out whole, And in my sundered breast he cast. A blazing shard of living coal. There in the desert I lay dead. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: TO MY MOTHER Mahmoud Darwish: To My Mother (From Arabic) Mother's brushing touch. Day upon day in me. My mother's tears would shame me. As on holy land. With thread strung from the back of your dress. If I but touch your heart's deep breadth. On your roof as a clothesline stretched in yourhands. I
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GOETHE: PROMETHEUS (FROM GERMAN) With cloud vapor. And try Your strike, as a boy. Beheading thistles, Against oaken tree and mountain height; You still must leave me. My Earth standing. And my hut which You did not build, And my hearth, home's glowing. Fire which You begrudge me. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MESOMEDES: HYMN TO NEMESIS Man's glinting fortunes turn on earth. You come in oblivion's cloak to bend. The grandeur-deluded rebel neck, With forearm measuring out lifetimes, With brow frowning into the heart of man. And the yoke raised sovereign in Your hand. Hail in the highest, O justice-queen. Nemesis, winged tilter POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEINRICH HEINE: THE PINE AND The Pine and the Palm. By Heinrich Heine. Translated by A.Z. Foreman. There stands a pine tree- lonesome. In the north on a barren height. In slumber. Ice and snowstorm. Wrap it in sheets of white. It dreamsabout a palmtree.
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GARCILASO DE LA VEGA: "WHILE Sonnet XXIII By Garcilaso de la Vega Translated by A.Z. Foreman Requested by Enrique Flores While there is yet the color of the rose And of the lily in your countenance, POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: CAEDMON'S HYMN (FROM OLD ENGLISH) Caedmon's Hymn (From Old English) This is arguably the oldest extant sample of English poetry. The Old Northumbrian version of it is preserved in a manuscript datable to precisely 737. It is attributed by Bede to the poet Caedmon. Fun fact (at least for me): this translation was used by BBC Radio 4 as its first broadcast incelebration of
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEDD WYN: WAR (FROM WELSH) Ellis Evans (1987-1917), the eldest of eleven children (that's right, eleven) was a Welsh sheep-farmer (because no biography is complete without instantiating a stereotype or two) who began writing poetry at an absurdly young age under the pen-name of "Hedd Wyn" (White Peace.) POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: LUCAN: OPENING TO HIS EPIC ON ablaze. Rome owes so much to civil war. as all was done to bring us you, O Caesar. And when your reign is done for, when you seek. the stars at last, with reveling in the sky, you will be more than welcome in heaven's palace. on any seat you choose. Whether you want. to seize Jove's scepter, or Apollo's blazing. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: I AM FROM I have a prison cell's cold window, a wave. Snatched by seagulls, my own view, an extra blade. Of grass, a moon at word's end, a supply. Of birds, and an olive tree that cannot die. I walked and crossed the land before the crossing. Of swords made a banquet-table of a body. I come from there, and I return the sky. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: PUSHKIN: THE PROPHET (FROM Of guile and idle caviling; And with his bloody fingertips. He set between my wasting lips. A Serpent's wise and forkèd sting. And with his sword he cleft my chest. And ripped my quaking heart out whole, And in my sundered breast he cast. A blazing shard of living coal. There in the desert I lay dead. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MAHMOUD DARWISH: TO MY MOTHER Mahmoud Darwish: To My Mother (From Arabic) Mother's brushing touch. Day upon day in me. My mother's tears would shame me. As on holy land. With thread strung from the back of your dress. If I but touch your heart's deep breadth. On your roof as a clothesline stretched in yourhands. I
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: MESOMEDES: HYMN TO NEMESIS Man's glinting fortunes turn on earth. You come in oblivion's cloak to bend. The grandeur-deluded rebel neck, With forearm measuring out lifetimes, With brow frowning into the heart of man. And the yoke raised sovereign in Your hand. Hail in the highest, O justice-queen. Nemesis, winged tilter POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GOETHE: PROMETHEUS (FROM GERMAN) With cloud vapor. And try Your strike, as a boy. Beheading thistles, Against oaken tree and mountain height; You still must leave me. My Earth standing. And my hut which You did not build, And my hearth, home's glowing. Fire which You begrudge me. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEINRICH HEINE: THE PINE AND The Pine and the Palm. By Heinrich Heine. Translated by A.Z. Foreman. There stands a pine tree- lonesome. In the north on a barren height. In slumber. Ice and snowstorm. Wrap it in sheets of white. It dreamsabout a palmtree.
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: CAEDMON'S HYMN (FROM OLD ENGLISH) Caedmon's Hymn (From Old English) This is arguably the oldest extant sample of English poetry. The Old Northumbrian version of it is preserved in a manuscript datable to precisely 737. It is attributed by Bede to the poet Caedmon. Fun fact (at least for me): this translation was used by BBC Radio 4 as its first broadcast incelebration of
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: GARCILASO DE LA VEGA: "WHILE Sonnet XXIII By Garcilaso de la Vega Translated by A.Z. Foreman Requested by Enrique Flores While there is yet the color of the rose And of the lily in your countenance, POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEDD WYN: WAR (FROM WELSH) Ellis Evans (1987-1917), the eldest of eleven children (that's right, eleven) was a Welsh sheep-farmer (because no biography is complete without instantiating a stereotype or two) who began writing poetry at an absurdly young age under the pen-name of "Hedd Wyn" (White Peace.) POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: LUCAN: OPENING TO HIS EPIC ON ablaze. Rome owes so much to civil war. as all was done to bring us you, O Caesar. And when your reign is done for, when you seek. the stars at last, with reveling in the sky, you will be more than welcome in heaven's palace. on any seat you choose. Whether you want. to seize Jove's scepter, or Apollo's blazing. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: T.H. PARRY WILLIAMS: THIS Here's Snowdon and crew, the landscape jagged and bare, Here's the lake and river and crag and there — right there —. Is where I was born. But see, between sky and earth. There are voices and apparitions wherever you turn. I'm tottering a little. Let me tell you. Some wooziness comes upon me out of the blue. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: CAEDMON'S HYMN (FROM OLD ENGLISH) Caedmon's Hymn (From Old English) This is arguably the oldest extant sample of English poetry. The Old Northumbrian version of it is preserved in a manuscript datable to precisely 737. It is attributed by Bede to the poet Caedmon. Fun fact (at least for me): this translation was used by BBC Radio 4 as its first broadcast incelebration of
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: RONSARD: "WHEN YOU ARE OLD Translated by A.Z. Foreman. When you sit aging under evening's star. By hearth and candle, spinning yarns and wool, You'll sing my verse in awe and say "Ronsard. Wrought song of me when I was beautiful". Hearing such words, your serving-maid that night, Though half-asleep from drudging, all the same. Will wake at my name's sound and stand POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: VICTOR HUGO: "AT DAWN TOMORROW At dawn, tomorrow as the plains grow bright. I’ll leave. I know you're waiting for me too: I'll cross the woodland and the mountain height. I can no longer be away from you. With eyes fixed on my thoughts, I will go forth. The world outside me I'll not hear or see, Unknown, alone, hands crossed, back POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: LOUISE LABÉ: SONNET 8 (FROM Louise Labé: Sonnet 8 (From French) I live, I die: I burn myself, I drown. I'm hot in the extreme while suffering cold. Life is too soft for me, too hard to hold. In pleasure, my heart finds great pangs and grief. The good flies off, yet stays without relief. At once I blossom green, and wither brown. With scarce a thought I find myselfpain-free.
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: RILKE: FROM A STORMY NIGHT This translation was done when I was 16 or so. I'm posting it as is. From a Stormy Night By Rainer Maria Rilke Translated by A.Z. ForemanFrontispiece
POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: PUSHKIN: ODE TO LIBERTY (FROM Notes: 1 I.e. Venus Aphrodite, associated in antiquity with the Ionian island of Cythera. 2 The identity of this "exalted Gaul" is one of the many quarrels with which scholars of Pushkinian minutiae have busied themselves. Possibilities range from Nabokov's suggestion of the minor poet Ponce Denis Ecouchard Le Brun, to the sadly underrated (by modern critics) poet André Chénier who died on POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: DU FU: THE DEFEAT AT The Defeat at Greenslope: A Lament By Dù Fŭ Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite this poem in English (Winter of 765. Dù Fŭ writes as though he was present at the battle, although he was actually a captive behind enemy lines in Cháng'ān.) At Greenslope by the East Gate the last POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: LUCAN: OPENING TO HIS EPIC ON ablaze. Rome owes so much to civil war. as all was done to bring us you, O Caesar. And when your reign is done for, when you seek. the stars at last, with reveling in the sky, you will be more than welcome in heaven's palace. on any seat you choose. Whether you want. to seize Jove's scepter, or Apollo's blazing. POEMS FOUND IN TRANSLATION: HEDD WYN: WAR (FROM WELSH) Ellis Evans (1987-1917), the eldest of eleven children (that's right, eleven) was a Welsh sheep-farmer (because no biography is complete without instantiating a stereotype or two) who began writing poetry at an absurdly young age under the pen-name of "Hedd Wyn" (White Peace.) ' +'' +content +'' ) top.consoleRef.document.close() } Poems Found inTranslation
skip to main | skip to sidebar * List of Translated Poems* Reviews
* Thanks to...
* Donate and Request a Translation* About
* My Other Blog
CLAUDIO RODRÍGUEZ: "AUBADE: WITHOUT LAWS" (FROM SPANISH) AUBADE: WITHOUT LAWS By Claudio Rodríguez Translated by A.Z. Foreman "Now the cocks are crowing.My love, get going.
Take good heed of dawn."— Anonymous
_
_ _On this bed where dreamy sleep is sorrow_ _this bed of no rest but a good day's work,_ _the late night overtakes us. Is the body_ _the question or the answer to so much_ _uncertain luck? A small, dry cough; a pulse_ _that comes out fresher and extinguishes_ _all the old ceremony of the flesh,_ _while there are no more words or gestures left_ _to go back and interpret the same scene_ _like novices. I love you. It's that evil_ _time for courtly unloveliness. So present_ _I hold you that my body finishes_ _in your tan body at whose hands one more_ _one more time I lose myself, and tomorrow_ _will lose my Self again. The night is over_ _like a war without heroes, like a peace_ _without alliances. And I love you._ _I look for spoils. I look for a broken_ _medal, for a live trophy of this time_ _they want to steal from us. Now you are tired_ _and I love you. It's time. Will our flesh be_ _the compensation, the careening shrapnel_ _that justifies so much sheer struggle with_ _no victors and no vanquished? Be quiet._ _For I love you. It's time. A tremulous_ _dawn enters. Never was a light so early._THE ORIGINAL:
Sin Leyes
Claudio Rodríguez
Ya cantan los gallos,amor mío. Vete:
cata que amanece.
— Anónimo
En esta cama donde el sueño es llanto, no de reposo, sino de jornada, nos ha llegado la alta noche. ¿El cuerpo es la pregunta o la respuesta a tanta dicha insegura? Tos pequeña y seca, pulso que viene fresco ya y apaga la vieja ceremonia de la carne mientras no quedan gestos ni palabras para volver a interpretar la escena como noveles. Te amo. Es la hora mala de la cruel cortesía. Tan presente te tengo siempre que mi cuerpo acaba en tu cuerpo moreno por el que una una vez mas me pierdo, por el que mañana me perderé. Como una guerra sin héroes, como una paz sin alianzas, ha pasado la noche. Y yo te amo. Busco despojos, busco una medalla rota, un trofeo vivo de este tiempo que nos quieren robar. Estás cansada y yo te amo. Es la hora. ¿Nuestra carne será la recompensa, la metralla que justifique tanta lucha pura sin vencedores ni vencidos? Calla, que yo te amo. Es la hora. Entra y un trémulo albor. Nunca la luz fue tan temprana.0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Love Poems
,
Spanish
SHMUEL BEN HOSHAˁNA: "ON RESURRECTION" (FROM HEBREW) The _payṭan_ Shmu'el ben Hoshaˁna (known also as Hashlishi "the Third", the ultimate rank he attained at the Yeshiva) was one of the central figures of the Eretz Israel Yeshiva in Jerusalem in the late tenth and early eleventh centuries, and a prolific author of Hebrew liturgical poetry. The _Yotzer_ is a sequence of poems which adorn the benedictions associated with the morning reading of the _Shemaˁ_. This brief _piyyūṭ_ is an _ahava, _the fourth in such a sequence, introducing the second benediction before the _Shemaˁ,_ dealing with God's love for Israel. (Whence Israel as the "beloved" of the final verse). Like many _ahavot_, it includes an alphabetic acrostic. In this case, though, the letters occur in reverse order, evoking the Resurrection's reversal of death at the end of days. It draws on the Bible heavily for its language, and the effect of its language (e.g. for the ending see Hosea 14:5). My translation is fairly free and interpretative. For example, the Messiah is not directly mentioned in this poem by that title. Rather his coming is mentioned in oblique form "with (the) Nūn of (the verb) Yinnōn" which means more or less something like "when the Messiah's reign begins" or perhaps "when the Messiah is born" depending on which way you swing the mysticism. _Yinnōn_ is an obscure verb occurring only once in the Hebrew Bible (Ps. 72:17). Some (see e.g. B. Sanhedrin 98b) took it to be the Messiah's name, and _Yinnōn_ is frequently used as a byword for the Messiah in piyyūṭīm. The letter nūn wound up especially associated with the Messiah in this connection, in part on account of the fact that n-w-n was taken to be the verb'sroot.
The audio recording is chanted in a reconstruction of Tiberian Hebrew. Shmuel, being a member of the Palestinian Yeshiva (which had recently been moved to Jerusalem from Tiberias) would have been well positioned to know this pronunciation of Hebrew. (Although readers who could teach this pronunciation were to quickly become impossible to find outside of Palestine.) It is not hard to picture Shmuel using it in reading his own Yotzerot. AN AHAVA ON THE RESURRECTION Shmuel Ben Hoshaˁna Translated by A.Z. Foreman _You turn man back to dust,_ _but will turn back in kind_ _with kindness that we hymn._ _You will bind back his bones,_ _extend again his tendons,_ _defend and fend for him._ _You will fit him with flesh, _ _you will screen him with skin_ _at the Messiah's dawn._ _Then will your beloved_ _blossom like the lily,_ _cast root like Lebanon._ AUDIO RECORDING OF ME CHANTING THE ORIGINAL IN TIBERIAN HEBREW:THE ORIGINAL:
דַּכָּא תָּשֵׁב אֱנוֹשׁ וְתָשׁוּב תָּחֹן וְתַחֲנֹן. גְּרָמִים תְּדַבֵּק, גִּידִים תִּמְתַּח, וְגָנוֹן תִּגְנֹן, בָּשָׂר תַּעֲלֶה, וְהָעוֹר תַּקְרִים בְּנוּן יִנּוֹן. אֲהוּבְךָ יִפְרַח כַּשּׁוֹשַׁנָּה, יַךְ שָׁרָשָׁיו כַּלְּבָנוֹן. PHONETIC TRANSCRIPTION IN TIBERIAN HEBREW: dakkʰɔː tʰɔːʃeːv ʔɛnoːʃ vaθɔːʃuːv tʰɔːħoːnvaθaːħanoːn
gaʀɔːmiːm tʰaðabbeːq giːðiːm tʰimtʰaːħ vaʁɔːnoːntʰiʁnoːn
bɔːsɔːr tʰaːʕalɛː vɔhɔːʕoːʀ tʰaqʀiːm banuːnjinnoːn
ʔahuːvχɔː jifʀaːħ kʰaʃʃoːʃannɔː jaːχ ʃɔːʀɔːʃɔːv kʰallavɔːnoːn0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Hebrew
,
Medieval
URI TZVI GREENBERG: ON A NIGHT OF RAIN IN JERUSALEM (FROM HEBREW) To comment properly on this nigh-untranslatable poem would require an essay of considerable length. Suffice it to say that one should remember that this was written before Israel gained control of East Jerusalem (and with it, the Old City.) ON A NIGHT OF RAIN IN JERUSALEM By Uri Tzvi Greenberg Requested by Daniel Harpaz (thank you for your support)
_
_ _The few trees in the yard moan like trees of a woodland,_ _River-laden, the loud deep thunderclouds reign._ _The Angels of Peace guard my slumbering children _ _In the moan of the trees, and dark gathering of rain.__
_ _Out there: Jerusalem - city of Abraham's trial and glory_ _Where he bound his Son on a mount when time came._ _The fire kindled at dawn still burns on the mountain._ _The rains quench it not: the covenant's flame..__
_ _"Should God command me now as once He commanded_ _My Father of old, I will surely obey"_ _Sing my heart and my flesh in this night of rain_ _And Angels of Peace guard my children till day!__
_ _What can equal this glory, this miracle zeal_ _For Mount Moriah - alive from that ancient day on__?_ _The covenant's blood sings in this father in prayer_ _Prepared for a Temple Mount offering at dawn. __
_ _Out there: Jerusalem, and the moaning trees of God_ _Felled there by enemies in all generations. _ _The river-laden clouds bear sunders of lightning_ _And thunder. These in this rainstruck night are my tidings_ _From the Almighty's Mouth till the end of generations.__
_ _-1954_
AUDIO RECORDING OF ME READING THE ORIGINAL HEBREW:THE ORIGINAL:
בְּלֵיל גֶּשָׁם בִּירוּשָׁלַיִם עֲצֶי מְעַט בֶּחָצֵר הוֹמִים כַּעֲצֵי יַעַר, כִּבְדֵי נְהָרוֹת עֲנָנִים מָרְעָמִים, מַלְאֲכֵי הַשָּׁלוֹם לִמְרַאֲשׁוֹתיְלָדַי
בְּהֶמְיַת הָעֵצִים וְחַשְׁרַת הַגְּשָׁמִים בַּחוּץ– יְרוּשָׁלַיִם: עִיר מַסַּתהוֹד הָאָב
וַעֲקֵדַת בְּנוֹ בְּאַחַד הֶהָרִים הָאֵשׁ–מִשַּׁחֲרִית עוֹד דּוֹלֶקֶתבָּהָר
הַגְּשָׁמִים לֹא כִבּוּהָ: אֵשׁ בֵּין הַבְּתָרִים אִם אֵל יְצַוֵּנִי כָּעֵת כְּשֶׁצִּוָּה" לְאָבִי הַקַּדְמוֹן– אֲצַיֵּת בְּוַדַּאי" רַן לִבִּי וּבְשָׂרִי בְּלֵיל הַגֶּשֶׁם הַזֶּה וּמַלְאֲכֵי הַשָׁלוֹם לִמְרַאֲשׁוֹתֵי יְלָדַי מַה מֵּהוֹד מַה מָּשָׁל לְזֶה רֶגֶשׁפִּלְאִי
חַי מִקֶּדֶם שַׁחֲרִית עַד כָּעֵת אֶלהַר מֹר:
מִתְרוֹנֵן דַּם הַבְּרִית בְּגוּף אָב תְּפִלִּי נָכוֹן לְקָרבַּן הַר הַבַּיִת עִםאוֹר!
בַּחוּץ – יְרוּשָׁלַיִם...וְהֶמְיַתעֲצֵי יָהּ
שֶׁכְּרָתוּם הָאוֹיְבִים בָּהּ מִכָּל הַדּוֹרוֹת עּנָנִים כִּבְדֵי נְהָרוֹת: בָּםבְּרָקִים
וּרְעָמִים, שֶׁהֵם לִי בְּלֵיל גֶשֶׁם – בְשׂוֹרוֹת מִפִּי הַגְּבוּרָה עַד סוֹף הַדּוֹרוֹת0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Hebrew
, Uri
Tzvi Greenberg
PSALM 117 (FROM BIBLICAL HEBREW)PSALM 117
Translated by A.Z. Foreman _Praise Yahweh, nations all_ _ Salute Him, peoples all_ _For His kindness overcomes us_ _ and Yahweh's truth is forever._ _ Praise the Lord._ AUDIO RECORDING OF ME CHANTING THE ORIGINAL IN RECONSTRUCTED TIBERIAN HEBREW PRONUNCIATION:THE ORIGINAL:
הַלְלוּ אֶת-יְהוָה, כָּל-גּוֹיִם; שַׁבְּחוּהוּ, כָּל-הָאֻמִּים. כִּי גָבַר עָלֵינוּ, חַסְדּוֹ וֶאֱמֶת-יְהוָה לְעוֹלָם: הַלְלוּ-יָהּ.0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Biblical
,
Hebrew
EISIG SILBERSCHLAG: ON HEATHEN FOOTSTEPS (FROM HEBREW) ON HEATHEN FOOTSTEPSEisig Silberschlag
Translated by A.Z. Foreman _Sun and wind and sea_ _And your body burning on sand,_ _Sun and wind and sea_ _And your body's wordless demand,_ _Sun and wind and sea_ _And your body in power of it all,_ _Sun and wind and sea—_ _Ah, a life without God, without thrall._ AUDIO RECORDING OF ME READING THE ORIGINAL HEBREW:THE ORIGINAL:
בְּעִקְּבוֹת עַכּוּ״ם שֶׁמֶשׁ וְרוּחַ וְיָם וְגוּפֵךְ הַלּוֹהֵט עַל הַחוֹל, שֶׁמֶשׁ וְרוּחַ וְיָם וְגוּפֵךְ הַתּוֹבֵעַ בְּלִי קוֹל, שֶׁמֶשׁ וְרוּחַ וְיָם וְגוּפֵךְ הַחוֹלֵשׁ עַל הַכֹּל, שֶׁמֶשׁ וְרוּחַ וְיָם — הָהּ, חַיִּים בְּלִי אֵל וּבְלִי עֹל.0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Hebrew
EUGENIO MONTALE: HITLER SPRING (FROM ITALIAN)HITLER SPRING
By Eugenio Montale
Translated by A.Z. Foreman _Nor she to see whom the sun turns about.._ — Dante (?) to Giovanni Quirini The dense white cloud of moths whirls crazy around the whitish lights and over the parapets, spreading a blanket on the ground that crackles like sprinkled sugar underfoot. Now coming summer frees the nightfrosts held in lockdown of the dead season's secret cellars and in the gardens that climb down from Maiano to these sandpits. A hellsent herald just flew over the avenue to a war-whoop of goons. A gaping orchestral pit_,_ firelit and decked with swastikas, seized and gulped him down. Windows are shuttered up, shabby and harmless though even they are fitted with guns and war toys; the butcher who laid berries on the snouts of slaughtered baby goats has closed. The feast day of killers meek and mild, still ignorant of blood, has turned to a sick contra dance of shattered wings, of shadow larvae on the sandbars, and the water goes on eating at the shore and nobody is blameless anymore. So, all for nothing? And the Roman candles at San Giovanni slowly whitening the skyline, and the vows and long farewells as binding as a baptism in dismal wait for the horde (but a gem scored the air, strewing your ice, the edges of your coasts, with the angels of Tobias, the seven, seed of the future) and the heliotropes born of your hands — all of it burned away, sucked dry by a pollen that shrieks like fire and stings like hail on wind.... Oh the wounded spring is still a festival if it can freeze this death back into death. Look up again Clizia: it is fate, it is the fate of changed you keeping up your changeless love, until the sightless sun you bear within you is dazzled in the Other and consumed in Him, for all. Perhaps the sirens, the bells tolling to hail the monsters on this eve of all hell breaking loose already blend with the sound loosed from the heavens that descends and conquers—with breath of a dawn that may break for all, tomorrow, white but without wings of horror, on scorched rockbeds of the south.THE ORIGINAL:
La Primavera Hitleriana _Né quella ch’a veder lo sol si gira…_ — Dante (?) a Giovanni Quirini Folta la nuvola bianca delle falene impazzite turbina intorno agli scialbi fanali e sulle spallette, stende a terra una coltre su cui scricchia come su zucchero il piede; l’estate imminente sprigiona ora il gelo notturno che capiva nelle cave segrete della stagione morta, negli orti che da Maiano scavalcano a questi renai. Da poco sul corso è passato a volo un messo infernale tra un alalà di scherani, un golfo mistico acceso e pavesato di croci a uncino l’ha preso e inghiottito, si sono chiuse le vetrine, povere e inoffensive benché armate anch’esse di cannoni e giocattoli di guerra, ha sprangato il beccaio che infiorava di bacche il muso dei capretti uccisi, la sagra dei miti carnefici che ancora ignorano il sangue s’è tramutata in un sozzo trescone* d’ali schiantate, di larve sulle golene, e l’acqua seguita a rodere le sponde e più nessuno è incolpevole. Tutto per nulla, dunque? – e le candele romane, a San Giovanni, che sbiancavano lente l’orizzonte, ed i pegni e i lunghi addii forti come un battesimo nella lugubre attesa dell’orda (ma una gemma rigò l’aria stillando sui ghiacci e le riviere dei tuoi lidi gli angeli di Tobia, i sette, la semina dell’avvenire) e gli eliotropi nati dalle tue mani – tutto arso e succhiato da un polline che stride come il fuoco e ha punte di sinibbio…Oh la piagata
primavera è pur festa se raggela in morte questa morte! Guarda ancora in alto, Clizia, è la tua sorte, tu che il non mutato amor mutata serbi, fino a che il cieco sole che in te porti si abbacini nell’Altro e si distrugga in Lui, per tutti. Forse le sirene, i rintocchi che salutano i mostri nella sera della loro tregenda, si confondono gi col suono che slegato dal cielo, scende, vince – col respiro di un’alba che domani per tutti si riaffacci, bianca ma senz’ali di raccapriccio, ai greti arsi del sud…0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Italian
,
Montale
, War
Poems
T. CARMI: AWAKENING (FROM HEBREW)AWAKENING
By T. Carmi
Translated by A.Z. Foreman _Come pass your hand across my lips. _ _For I am not accustomed to this light. __
_
_Our love is batlike, beats about the dark. _ _It does not miss its mark. Your face defines_ _My hands to me. What can I know by light? _ _Rise, pass your hand across me.__
_
_My sleep (what time is it?) held your childhood in my arms._ _It's ten o'clock between the sea and night,_ _Midnight between us, seven between the dawn-slit blinds._ _Oh no, I'm not accustomed to this light__
_
_That comes to open up my eyes like cold _ _Eyelets. On the gunsights' scales I'll weigh_ _My blind gaze and the terror of your clay._ _Rise, pass your hand through me.__
_
_Face to face, will I still have a face?_ _Perhaps I'll speak. Perhaps I will stay quiet. _ _Come pass your hand across my lips. _ _For I am not accustomed to this light. _ AUDIO RECORDING OF ME READING THE ORIGINAL HEBREW:THE ORIGINAL:
יקיצה
ט. כרמי
בּוֹאִי, הַעֲבִירִי אֶת יָדֵךְ עַלפִּי.
אֲנִי אֵינִי רָגִיל בָּאוֹר הַזֶּה.עֲטַלֵּפִית אַהֲבָתֵנוּ, סְחוֹר וַאֲפֵלוֹת, וְלֹא תַחֲטִיא. פָּנַיִךְ מַסְבִּירוֹת לִי אֶת יָדַי. מָה אָבִין בָּאוֹר? קוּמִי, הַעֲבִירִי אֶת יָדֵךְ עָלַי.
שְׁנָתִי (מָה הַשָּׁעָה?) חָבְקָה אֶת יַלְדוּתֵךְ. עֶשֶֹר בֵּין יָם לְלַיְלָה, חֲצוֹת
בֵּינִי
לְבֵינֵךְ, שֶׁבַע בֵּין חֲרַכֵּי־הַשַּׁחַר. הוֹ לֹא, אֵינִי רָגִיל בָּאוֹר הַזֶּההַבָּא לִפְקֹחַ אֶת עֵינַי כַּחֲרִירִים קָרִים. בְּמֹאזְנֵי־הַכַּוֶּנֶת
אֶשְׁקֹל
אֶת עִוְרוֹנִי וּפַחַד־עֲפָרֵךְ. קוּמִי, הַעֲבִירִי בִּי יָדֵךְ.פָּנִים־אֶל־פָּנִים, הַאִם עוֹד יִהְיוּ לִי? אֲנִי עָלוּל לִשְׁתֹּק, אוֹ לְדַבֵּר. בּוֹאִי, הַעֲבִירִי אֶת יָדֵךְ עַל
פִּי.
אֲנִי אֵינִי רָגִיל בָּאוֹר הַזֶּה.0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Hebrew
AMIR GILBOA: ISAAC (FROM MODERN HEBREW)ISAAC
By Amir Gilboa
Translated by A.Z. Foreman _In early morning, the sun strolled out in the forest Together with me and father, My right hand in his left. A knife like lightning flamed out through the wood, And I was so scared of my eyes' terror, facing the blood on theleaves.
Father! Father! Come quick and save Isaac And nobody will be missing at lunchtime. It is I who am slaughtered, my son And my blood is already all over the leaves. And father's voice was stifledAnd his face pale.
And I wanted to scream, writhing not to believe, As I ripped my eyes open.And I awoke.
And my right hand had run right out of blood._ AUDIO RECORDING OF ME READING THE ORIGINAL HEBREW:THE ORIGINAL:
יצחק
אמיר גלבע
לִפְנוֹת בֹּקֶר טִיְּלָה שֶמֶש בְּתוֹך הַיַעַר יַחַד עִמִּי וְעִם אַבָּא וִימִינִי בִּשְׂמֹאלוֹ. כְּבָרָק לָהֲבָה מַאֲכֶלֶת בֵּיןהָעֵצִים.
וַאֲנִי יָרֵא כָּל-כָּך אֶת פַּחַד עֵינַי מוּל דָּם עַל הֶעָלִים. אַבָּא אַבָּא מַהֵר וְהַצִּילָה אֶתיִצְחָק
וְלֹא יֶחְסַר אִיש בִּסְעֻדַּת הַצָּהֳרַיִם. זֶה אֲנִי הנִּשְׁחָט, בְּנִי, וּכְבָר דָּמִי עַל הֶעָלִים. וְאַבָּא נִסְתַּם קוֹלוֹ. וּפָנָיו חִוְרִים. וְרָצִיתִי לִצְעֹק, מְפַרְפֵּר לֹא לְהַאֲמִין וְקוֹרֵעַ הָעֵינַיִם. וְנִתְעוֹרַרְתִּי. וְאָזְלַת-דָּם הָיְתָה יַד יָמִין0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Amir Gilboa
,
Hebrew ,
Holocaust
HABAKKUK 1:1-4 "WHY, GOD? WHY?" (FROM BIBLICAL HEBREW) Just a little more Biblical poetry, this time from one of the Twelve "Minor" Prophets. The recording continues my habit of reading the Bible in a reconstruction of medieval Tiberian Hebrew phonology. AUDIO RECORDING OF ME CHANTING THE ORIGINAL TEXT IN TIBERIAN HEBREW"WHY, GOD?"
Habakkuk 1:1-4
Translated by A.Z. Foreman The message that came in a vision upon prophet Habakkuk: _ How long, Yahweh, shall I cry out_ _ __ __and You not listen?_ _ __I shriek OUTRAGE to You,_ _ __ __and You do not deliver!_ _ __Why do You show me horror,_ _ __ __tolerate godawful things?_ _ __Plunder and outrage are all before me_ _ __ __combat and conflict all about._ _ __So the laws as taught are crippled,_ _ __ __and justice comes out never._ _ __For the wicked are closing in on the good_ _ __ __so justice comes out crooked._THE ORIGINAL:
הַמַּשָּׂא֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר חָזָ֔ה חֲבַקּ֖וּק הַנָּבִֽיא׃ עַד־אָ֧נָה יְהֹוָ֛ה שִׁוַּ֖עְתִּי וְלֹ֣א תִשְׁמָ֑ע אֶזְעַ֥ק אֵלֶ֛יךָ חָמָ֖ס וְלֹ֥א תוֹשִֽׁיעַ׃ לָ֣מָּה תַרְאֵ֤נִי אָ֙וֶן֙ וְעָמָ֣לתַּבִּ֔יט
וְשֹׁ֥ד וְחָמָ֖ס לְנֶגְדִּ֑י וַיְהִ֧י רִ֦יב וּמָד֖וֹן יִשָּֽׂא׃ עַל־כֵּן֙ תָּפ֣וּג תּוֹרָ֔ה וְלֹא־יֵצֵ֥א לָנֶ֖צַח מִשְׁפָּ֑ט כִּ֤י רָשָׁע֙ מַכְתִּ֣יר אֶת־הַצַּדִּ֔יק עַל־כֵּ֛ן יֵצֵ֥א מִשְׁפָּ֖ט מְעֻקָּֽל׃0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Biblical
,
Hebrew
PSALM 137 "BY THE STREAMS OF BABYLON" (FROM BIBLICAL HEBREW) Another Biblical one, and again I've included an audio recording of me reading the text in reconstructed Tiberian Hebrew pronunciation. I think I'll do that with all my Biblical Hebrew stuff from now on. BY THE STREAMS OF BABYLONPsalm 137
Translated by A.Z. Foreman AUDIO RECORDING OF ME CHANTING THE ORIGINAL TEXT USING RECONSTRUCTED TIBERIAN HEBREW PRONUNCIATION _By the streams of Babylon, There we sat and oh did we weep When we recalled our Zion. There, on the branches of the poplars We hung up our lyres. For there our captors asked us to sing, Our plunderers bade us rejoice: "Sing us one of your Zionite songs!" But how can we sing the song of Yahweh __On foreign soil?
If I should forget you, O Jerusalem, May my right hand fall paralyzed! Let my tongue cleave up to my palate If I do not recall you, If I do not keep Jerusalem At the peak of all my joys. Recall, O Yahweh, the Edomites On that day of Jerusalem, saying: "Flatten it, flatten it Down to the foundation" O Daughter of Babylon!Daughter destroyer!
Happy the man who deals in kind With you as you dealt with us. Happy the man who seizes and smashes Your babies against the boulders._THE ORIGINAL:
עַל נַהֲרוֹת, בָּבֶל שָׁם יָשַׁבְנוּ, גַּם-בָּכִינוּ: בְּזָכְרֵנוּ, אֶת-צִיּוֹן. עַל-עֲרָבִים בְּתוֹכָהּ-- תָּלִינוּ, כִּנֹּרוֹתֵינוּ. כִּי שָׁם שְׁאֵלוּנוּ שׁוֹבֵינוּ, דִּבְרֵי-שִׁיר וְתוֹלָלֵינוּ שִׂמְחָה: שִׁירוּ לָנוּ, מִשִּׁיר צִיּוֹן. אֵיךְ--נָשִׁיר אֶת-שִׁיר-יְהוָה: עַל, אַדְמַת נֵכָר. אִם-אֶשְׁכָּחֵךְ יְרוּשָׁלִָם תִּשְׁכַּח יְמִינִי. תִּדְבַּק-לְשׁוֹנִי, לְחִכִּי- אִם-לֹא אֶזְכְּרֵכִי: אִם-לֹא אַעֲלֶה, אֶת-יְרוּשָׁלִַם עַל, רֹאשׁ שִׂמְחָתִי. זְכֹר יְהוָה, לִבְנֵי אֱדוֹם-- אֵת, יוֹם יְרוּשָׁלִָם: הָאֹמְרִים, עָרוּ עָרוּ עַד, הַיְסוֹד בָּהּ. בַּת-בָּבֶל הַשְּׁדוּדָה אַשְׁרֵי שֶׁיְשַׁלֶּם-לָךְ אֶת-גְּמוּלֵךְ, שֶׁגָּמַלְתְּ לָנוּ אַשְׁרֵי, שֶׁיֹּאחֵז וְנִפֵּץ אֶת-עֹלָלַיִךְ אֶל-הַסָּלַע.0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Biblical
,
Hebrew
SONG OF SONGS: "THE SEAL OF LOVE" (FROM HEBREW)THE SEAL OF LOVE
Song of Songs
Translated by A.Z. Foreman AUDIO RECORDING OF ME CHANTING THE ORIGINAL TEXT USING RECONSTRUCTED TIBERIAN HEBREW PRONUNCIATION_(He speaks:)_
_Who is that coming up from the wildlands, Her head on her lover's shoulder?(She speaks:)
Beneath the apple tree I aroused you. Beneath that tree I received you There where your mother conceived you Where your mother gave birth to you. Bind me now as a seal on your heart, As an amulet upon your arm. For love is fierce as death, But jealousy cruel as the grave. Even its shards are the sparks of fire, Of an almighty flame. Whole oceans cannot put love out, Nor any river sweep it away.Any man who tried
To barter his live savings for love, Would be paid in full with shame. _THE ORIGINAL:
מִי זֹאת, עֹלָה מִן-הַמִּדְבָּר, מִתְרַפֶּקֶת, עַל-דּוֹדָהּ; תַּחַת הַתַּפּוּחַ, עוֹרַרְתִּיךָ- -שָׁמָּה חִבְּלַתְךָ אִמֶּךָ, שָׁמָּה חִבְּלָה יְלָדַתְךָ. שִׂימֵנִי כַחוֹתָם עַל-לִבֶּךָ, כַּחוֹתָם עַל-זְרוֹעֶךָ- כִּי-עַזָּה כַמָּוֶת אַהֲבָה, קָשָׁה כִשְׁאוֹל קִנְאָה: רְשָׁפֶיהָ-רִשְׁפֵּי אֵשׁ שַׁלְהֶבֶתְיָה. מַיִם רַבִּים, לֹא יוּכְלוּ לְכַבּוֹת אֶת-הָאַהֲבָה , וּנְהָרוֹת, לֹא יִשְׁטְפוּהָ; אִם-יִתֵּן אִישׁ אֶת-כָּל-הוֹן בֵּיתוֹ, בָּאַהֲבָה בּוֹז, יָבוּזוּ לוֹLinks to this post
This translation is
Labels: Biblical
,
Hebrew ,
Love Poems
ALEKSEY ZHOKHOV: ARCTIC END (FROM RUSSIAN) Aleksey Nikolayevich Zhokhov (1885-1915) was my first cousin thrice removed (my great grandfather's cousin). He was a Russian arctic explorer and cartographer who participated in the first polar expedition to navigate the entire Arctic coast from end to end. He discovered a small Siberian island which was posthumously named after him. He himself died on the expedition, and was buried in the Arctic. In this poem of his, the speaker imagines the lonely death of a wanderer in the Arctic. Aleksey was of course unaware that he himself would die such a death, and that this spookily prescient poem would be inscribed on a metal plaque over his grave.ARCTIC END
By Aleksey Zhokhov
Translated by A.Z. Foreman _Under an icy clod of cold Taymyr_ _Where a snowfox, startled to a somber bark,_ _Alone speaks of the drear life of this world_ _A bleary poet rests in peace and dark.__
_ _Morning Aurora's beam will shine no gold_ _On the forgotten singer's lyre beneath these skies._ _The grave is deep as Tuscarora's Rift,_ _Deep as one woman's dear, beloved eyes.__
_ _If only he could reverence them once more,_ _Gaze on them even from afar across this sweep,_ _Then death herself would not be so severe,_ _The bottom of the grave would not seem deep._THE ORIGINAL:
Под глыбой льда холодного Таймыра, Где лаем сумрачным испуганный песец Один лишь говорит о тусклой жизнимира,
Найдет покой измученный певец. Не кинет золотом луч утренней Авроры На лиру чуткую забытого певца — Могила глубока, как бездна Тускароры, Как милой женщины любимые глаза. Когда б он мог на них молиться снова, Глядеть на них хотя б издалека, Сама бы смерть была не так сурова И не казалась бы могила глубока.0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Russian
IMRU' AL-QAYS: FROM THE MUˁALLAQA: THE THUNDERSTORM (FROM ARABIC) A terrific thunderstorm rages over the mountains on the northern edge of the Najd. The scene is imagined over so vast an area that it must be poetic fiction. (As the medieval commentators note: Sitār, Yaḏbul and Qaṭan cannot possibly all be seen from the sameplace.)
FROM THE MUˁALLAQA: A MOUNTAIN STORM Attributed to Imru' al-Qays Translated by A.Z. Foreman _Friend, can you see the lightning? There: its flash_ _bolting like hands in a crownbright cloudheap, quick_ _to shed light on all things; there: like the lamps_ _of a hermit who has oiled each coily wick._ _I sat to watch it with my friends, between_ _Ḍārij and Al-ˁUdhayb. Oh I gazed far_ _enough to see the storm raise its right arm_ _on Mount Qaṭan, and its left on Al-Sitār,_ _dumping its rainload hard around Kutayfa_ _and blowing flat the great Kanahbul trees._ _Its shower bucked out over Mount Qanān_ _panicking all the whitefoot Ibices._ _At Taymā' it left not one palm-trunk standing_ _nor rampart made of anything but rock,_ _Mount Thabīr in its water-onslaught stood_ _like a tribe's chieftain in a stripelined cloak._ _Come dawn, the upper peaks of Al-Mujaymir_ _stood spindle-whirled with storm-debris all round,_ _the flood's bale flung on Al-Ghabīṭ like cloth-sacks_ _dropped by a Yemeni merchant to the ground._ _Come morning, finches noised about the dales_ _as if blind drunk on pepper-fiery wine._ _Come evening, raptors lay drowned at its edge_ _like squill-roots twisted into a freakish twine._ AUDIO RECORDING IN RECONSTRUCTED EARLY CLASSICAL ARABIC PRONUNCIATION A MORE RHYTHMICIZED RECITATION The Arabic of my audio recording is in what I choose to call "Early Classical Arabic" pronunciation. To put it grandiosely, it is a kind of Arabic that hasn't been heard for over a thousand years. To put it plainly, it is a speculative reconstruction of the kind of Arabic pronunciation the grammarian Sibawayh might have used, based on his description of Arabic speech-sounds, and augmented with some inference based on typology. The main differences from textbook Classical Arabic as it is taught and learned today are as follows: The ج was /ɟ/ (not /dʒ/) The ش was /ɕ/ (not /ʃ/) The ص was (for an indeterminate number of speakers including Sibawayh) an affricate /t͡sˤ/ rather than the fricative /sˁ/. (For reasoning behind this reconstruction see this articleby
Ahmad Al-Jallad).
The ض was a pharyngealized lateral, probably /ɮˤ/ or /d͡ɮˤ/ (the modern /dˁ/ pronunciation is much more recent) The ت and ك appear to have been quite strongly aspirated /kʰtʰ/.
In addition to the familiar three vowels /a: i: u:/ there existed /e:/ for many speakers (and, more marginally, /o:/ for some.) The vowel /a:/ was optionally raised to due to i-mutation under a complex of different circumstances, partially neutralizing the contrast between /a:/ and phonemic /e:/ and giving the realizations of /a:/ a range and distribution not commonly heard in modern elevatedpoetic recitations.
Although I render ش as alveolo-palatal /ɕ/, full disclosure requires noting that another possibility would be a true palatal non-sibilant /ç/, which is what many (perhaps most) posit based on a strict interpretation of Sibawayhi's statement. Now, Sibawayhi, who doesn't get enough credit as a phonetician, could probably have distinguished palatal from alveolo-palatal articulation. But whether he would have cared to is a different question. Although he groups ي ش ج at the same place of articulation, it is only ش which causes assimilation of the definite article. Thus there was something about šīn that made it pattern, for assimilation purposes, with the coronals rather than the dorsals. The most straightforward interpretation would be that this is because šīn was indeed a sibilant. Sibilants as an articulatory class involve a centerline grooved tongue focusing the airstream such that it strikes the teeth. Whereas non-sibilant fricatives do not involve the teeth as a secondary articulator. Sibilants, probably because of the need to involve the teeth, are always coronal. Alveolo-palatal articulation sits uneasily in a no-man's land between the dorsal and coronals, and is as far back as you can go and still produce a sound that behaves acoustically and structurally like a sibilant. For /ç/ to function as a sibilant, it must thus have front articulation , which (notational and theoretical games aside) makes it functionally /ɕ/. One phonologically interesting way in which Sibawayhi's Arabic was likely counterintuitive from the standpoint of many modern accents of the standard language, and doubly so for non-native Arabic speakers given how they tend to be taught, is that what we normally think of as voiced plain stops /b d ɟ/ and voiceless plain stops /t k/ did not — strictly speaking — have presence or absence of voicing per se as their distinguishing feature. In this, Sibawayh's Arabic would align with certain modern dialects like San'ani Arabic. (See Phonation and glottal states in Modern South _Arabian and San’ani Arabic _by Janet Watson and Barry Heselwood for this and more, including a good explanation of a crucial articulatory category in Sibawayh's description.) The chief featural distinction between the two sets was probably aspiration in the latter and non-aspiration (with adductive glottal tension) in the former. In a dialect like this, although /b d ɟ/ probably did not have fully specified voicing, much of the time this would be of little phonetic consequence since in most positions voicing would be triggered positionally. In post-pausal position, however, although /b d ɟ/ would trigger a glottal prephonation state, their actual voice-onset time would not necessarily be different from that of a voiceless non-aspiratedstop.
THE ORIGINAL:
أصَاحِ تَرَِى بَرْقاً أُرِيْكَ وَمِيضَـهُ كَلَمْـعِ اليَدَيْنِ فِي حَبِيٍّ مُكَلَّـلِ يُضِيءُ سَنَاهُ أَوْ مَصَابِيْحُرَاهِـبٍ
أهَانَ السَّلِيْـطَ بِالذُّبَالِ المُفَتَّـلِ قَعَدْتُ لَهُ وصُحْبَتِي بَيْنَضَـارِجٍ
وبَيْنَ العـُذَيْبِ بُعْدَمَا مُتَأَمَّـلِ عَلَى قَطَنٍ بِالشَّيْمِ أَيْمَنُصَوْبِـهِ
وَأَيْسَـرُهُ عَلَى السِّتَارِ فَيَذْبُـلِ فَأَضْحَى يَسُحُّ المَاءَ حَوْلَ كُتَيْفَةٍ يَكُبُّ عَلَى الأذْقَانِ دَوْحَ الكَنَهْبَلِ ومَـرَّ عَلَى القَنَـانِ مِنْ نَفَيَانِـهِ فَأَنْزَلَ مِنْهُ العُصْمَ مِنْ كُلِّ مَنْـزِلِ وتَيْمَاءَ لَمْ يَتْرُكْ بِهَا جِذْعَ نَخْلَـةٍ وَلاَ أٌجُماً إِلاَّ مَشِيْداً بِجِنْـدَلِ كَأَنَّ ثَبِيْـراً فِي عَرَانِيْـنِوَبْلِـهِ
كَبِيْـرُ أُنَاسٍ فِي بِجَـادٍ مُزَمَّـلِ كَأَنَّ ذُرَى رَأْسِ المُجَيْمِرِغُـدْوَةً
مِنَ السَّيْلِ وَالأَغثَاءِ فَلْكَةُمِغْـزَلِ
وأَلْقَى بِصَحْـرَاءِ الغَبيْطِ بَعَاعَـهُ نُزُوْلَ اليَمَانِي ذِي العِيَابِ المُحَمَّلِ كَأَنَّ مَكَـاكِيَّ الجِـوَاءِ غُدَّبَـةً صُبِحْنَ سُلافاً مِنْ رَحيقٍ مُفَلْفَـلِ كَأَنَّ السِّبَـاعَ فِيْهِ غَرْقَى عَشِيَّـةً بِأَرْجَائِهِ القُصْوَى أَنَابِيْشُعُنْصُـلِ
0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Arabic
,
Pre-Islamic
HOMERIC HYMN TO ARES (FROM GREEK)HYMN TO ARES
(C. 2nd-4th century A.D.) Translated by A.Z. Foreman_
_ _God-brawned Ares, gold-helmed driver_ _of the chariot in the stars. Stout-spirit shieldman_ _bronzed in armor! Bulwark of Olympus,_ _Guardian of cities and spear-potent_ _Father of Victory, the fine dame at war!_ _Enemy-harrowing ally of Justice,_ _the righteous man's commander in chief,_ _scepter-master of manly good_ _wheeling Your fireball amid the wayfaring_ _planets' seven paths through cosmic_ _air where Your firesteeds forever bear You_ _over the thirdmost orbit immortal.__
_ _Hear me, bequeather of brave youth's bloom,_ _matchless ally of mortalkind,_ _blaze a gentle beam from Your planet_ _straight into our life with strength of war_ _to finally beat the bite of cowardice_ _now and ever from out my skull.__
_ _Give my mind clout to crush the soul's_ _treacherous impulses, help me temper_ _the spirit-furies that spur me into_ _bloody mayhem, and make me brave_ _enough to keep within the kindly_ _laws of peace, O Lord of War. _ _Help me flee the fray of foul rancor,_ _and dodge the wraiths of a violent death._THE ORIGINAL:
Ἆρες ὑπερμενέτα, βρισάρματε, χρυσεοπήληξ, ὀβριμόθυμε, φέρασπι, πολισσόε, χαλκοκορυστά, καρτερόχειρ, ἀμόγητε, δορισθενές, ἕρκος Ὀλύμπου, Νίκης εὐπολέμοιο πάτερ, συναρωγὲΘέμιστος,
ἀντιβίοισι τύραννε, δικαιοτάτων ἀγὲφωτῶν,
ἠνορέης σκηπτοῦχε, πυραυγέα κύκλονἑλίσσων
αἰθέρος ἑπταπόροις ἐνὶ τείρεσιν, ἔνθα σε πῶλοι ζαφλεγέες τριτάτης ὑπὲρ ἄντυγος αἰὲν ἔχουσι: κλῦθι, βροτῶν ἐπίκουρε, δοτὴρ εὐθαρσέος ἥβης, πρηὺ καταστίλβων σέλας ὑψόθεν ἐςβιότητα
ἡμετέρην καὶ κάρτος ἀρήιον, ὥς κεδυναίμην
σεύασθαι κακότητα πικρὴν ἀπ᾽ ἐμοῖοκαρήνου,
καὶ ψυχῆς ἀπατηλὸν ὑπογνάμψαι φρεσὶν ὁρμήν, θυμοῦ αὖ μένος ὀξὺ κατισχέμεν, ὅς μ᾽ ἐρέθῃσι φυλόπιδος κρυερῆς ἐπιβαινέμεν: ἀλλὰσὺ θάρσος
δός, μάκαρ, εἰρήνης τε μένειν ἐν ἀπήμοσι θεσμοῖς δυσμενέων προφυγόντα μόθον Κῆράς τεβιαίους.
0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Alliterative Meter,
Greek ,
Homer
HOMERIC HYMN TO POSEIDON (GREEK)HYMN TO POSEIDON
(Ca. 6th century BC) Translated by A.Z. Foreman_
_ _My song begins for great Poseidon_ _the Earthmover, endless shifter_ _of the gaping deep; god of waters,_ _Lord of Helicon, homed in the expanse_ _of ancient Aegae. Earthshaker, you_ _the gods endowed with double honor_ _to be tamer of steeds and savior of ships._ _Hail, Poseidon sire of waveroads_ _the blue-haired god who girds the earth._ _Blessed one, I pray your broad kind heart_ _take care of us who cross your seas.__
_ THE ORIGINAL:
Εἲς Ποσειδῶνα ἀμφὶ Ποσειδάωτα, μέγαν θεόν, ἄρχομ᾽ἀείδειν,
γαίης κινητῆρα καὶ ἀτρυγέτοιοθαλάσσης,
πόντιον, ὅσθ᾽ Ἑλικῶνα καὶ εὐρείας ἔχει Αἰγάς. διχθά τοι, Ἐννοσίγαιε, θεοὶ τιμὴνἐδάσαντο,
ἵππων τε δμητῆρ᾽ ἔμεναι σωτῆρά τενηῶν.
χαῖρε, Ποσείδαον γαιήοχε, κυανοχαῖτα, καί, μάκαρ, εὐμενὲς ἦτορ ἔχων πλώουσιν ἄρηγε.0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Alliterative Meter,
Greek ,
Homer
ABRAHAM SUTZKEVER: TO SAY A PRAYER (FROM YIDDISH)TO SAY A PRAYER
By Abraham Sutzkever Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite the original Yiddish_
__I have the urge to say a prayer. I do not know to whom.__ _ _He who once gave me comfort will not hear it, should it come. _ _ To whom, then, would I pray? _ _ I am its choked-up prey. __
_ _Maybe I should entreat a star up there: "old distant friend, _ _Come substitute for my lost speech. I am at my words' end." _ _ That good star deep in ether _ _ Won't hear my prayer either. __
_ _But I have got to say a prayer. Someone very near, _ _Somebody in my soul is tortured, and demands a prayer. _ _ So I jabber on and on _ _ Senselessly until dawn.__
_ - Vilna Ghetto, January 1942THE ORIGINAL:
גלוסט זיך מיר צו טאָן אַ תּפֿילה אבֿרהם סוצקעווער גלוסט זיך מיר צו טאָן אַ תּפֿילה – ווייס איך ניט צו וועמען, דער, וואָס האָט אַ מאָל געטרייסט מיך וועט זי ניט פֿאַרנעמען, ווייס איך ניט צו וועמען – האַלט זי מיך אין קלעמען. אפֿשר זאָל איך בעטן בײַ אַ שטערן: ’’פֿרײַנד מײַן ווײַטער, כ׳האָב מײַן וואָרט פֿאַרלוירן, קום און זײַ אים אַ פֿאַרבײַטער!‘‘ אויך דער גוטער שטערן וועט עס ניט דערהערן. נאָר אַ תּפֿילה זאָגן מוז איך, עמעץ גאָר אַ נאָנטער פּײַניקט זיך אין מײַן נשמה און די תּפֿילה מאָנט ער, – וועל איך אָן אַ זינען פּלאַפּלען ביז באַגינען. ווילנער געטאָ, יאַנואַר 19420 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Holocaust
,
Sutzkever
,
Yiddish
ABRAHAM SUTZKEVER: SONG FOR THE MEN TAKING TO THE WOODS (FROMYIDDISH)
_For Rokhl. Wherever you are these days, רחלע, this one is foryou. _
A poem for Jews who had escaped the Vilna ghetto and fled to the forests, in order to participate in bushwhacking guerrilla warfare against the Nazis. Sutzkever dated all his wartime poems. This one, importantly, is dated two days before Sutzkever and his wife would follow the men here hymned, escaping to the woods themselves, eventually joining a Jewish resistance unit commanded by MosheRudnitski.
SONG FOR THE MEN TAKING TO THE WOODS By Abraham Sutzkever Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite the original Yiddish _Sprout up! Staunch heroes, adamantine lads, go take your ground._ _Sprout up! Sons of the future, make the world know what you are,_ _For all the will of all a people, swallowed underground,_ _Condenses — swelling lava in your breast beneath a scar. __
_ _Now, if the sword has gone to rust in vagabond confusion,_ _Then file off all the yesterdays, and sharpen its today. _ _Never is it too late to show the people's retribution._ _Redeem the age-old sin with steel. There is a price to pay. __
__Cities have all flown their true colors, turned to stone betrayers,_ _And riveted your way to sizzling graves at every hand. _ _But forests welcome you with singing leaves to safer lairs:_ _"Come, come to us our darlings, and refine your fair demand."__
__Our new anointed Jewish rangers, striders of the trees, _ _Against the brink that lay in wait, your feet kick back with No. _ _Such glory glints within you! Glory of the Maccabees_ _As once it did in our land two millennia ago. __
_ _There always will be those who bend to earth, who tire, who kneel._ _Pity the slave that rests his hope in mercy from a slave._ _Be men and Maccabees. Blast for rebellion, and in steel_ _Let honor shine again with every melée of the brave._ — Vilna Ghetto, September 10th, 1943THE ORIGINAL:
Click here to see commentary Notes on the Yiddish: With Sutzkever, as with Robert Frost, if you do not read and listen closely, you will miss much. This poem is more than simply a bit of rousing verse. It can work perfectly well as such, but on closer listening things grow increasingly complex. I have with profit consulted Frieda W. Aaron's comments on this poem, though I find her reading and translation somewhat unsatisfactory._
_ _Vakst aróys, ir heldn — féste áyngeshparte yúngen_ _Vakst aróys, ir tsúkunftzin, un zayt der velt bavúst!_ _Gor der viln funem folk, in úntererd farshlúngen,_ _Kléyet zikh - a lávediker shtrom in áyer brust._ (Sprout up, you heroes — strong unyeilding young men / sprout up, you future-sons, and be renowned to the world! / All the will of the people, swallowed underground, congeals itself — a lavalike surge inyour breast)
_Tsukunftzin_ seems to be "sons of the future" but _zin _can have another meaning of "consciousness, sense." _Tsukunftzin _could be taken as "sense of (a) future" i.e. "you who give a sense that we _have_ a future despite this extermination." In other poems, Sutzkever highlights the identity of zin/zin "sons/sense" in interesting ways. Still, though, the fact that _zin_ "sense" is singular makes this a stretch. It's worth noting that this poem was first published two years after the date of composition, with a hyphen between the two lexemes. i.e. צוקונפט-זין _tsukunft-zin_ as if to call attention to the sense of the two elements_. _(The hyphen does not appear in later reprintings.) It is easy to take, as Aaron does, the final two lines to mean "The entire will of the people has been swallowed under the earth / But a lava surge is coming together in your breast." But note that line three does not contain a main verb, or a conjunction. The whole line is in fact the subject of _kleyen_ _zikh_ which has a dash after it_. _i.e. "All the will of the people, having been swallowed underground, coalesces — a lavalike surge...." Moreover, the word _untererd_ is "underground" not just in the geological sense, but the clandestine political one, as in "an underground movement." In Yiddish as in English, to "go underground" (_geyen in der untererd_) means to go clandestine, to start behaving in some covert way. The final line is interesting. _Kleyen zikh _is a curious verb which I had to ask others about. It appears to be a synonym of _kleben zikh_ "to take form, to coagulate, coalesce, to be sticky, to stick together" (i.e. like _kley_ "glue.") The word _shtrom_ has two meanings Yiddish: "course, torrent, tide"and "scar."
_
_ _Oyb es hot farzhávert in der vóglenish dos ayzn_ _Faylt fun em aróp di nekhtns un em shlayft atsínd._ _Kéynmol iz nit shpet dem folks nekóme tsu baváyzn:_ _Óystsukoyfn mit gevér di dóyresdike zínd._ (If the iron has rusted in wandering / file off from it the yesterday, and sharpen its here and now. / Never is it too late to manifest the people's vengeance: / To redeem with weapons the generations-old sin.) Frieda Aaron is right I think that the _doyresdike zind_ "generations-old sin, long-lasting sin" is meant to suggest both "the sin of Jewish passivity and the sin of the endless chain of crimes visited upon the Jews." And that the latter is more central. Oyskoyfn "redeem, ransom" has a heavily agentive and aggressive tone to it, it seems to me, given Sutzkever's other uses of it. It is suggestive of overcoming. Of payback, of meeting the enemy blow forblow.
_Gever_ means not only "weapon" but "endurance."_
_ _S'hobn shtet farvándlt zikh in shtéynerne farréter,_ _Tsúgeshmidt tsu zídndike gríber áyer gang._ _Hobn vélder aykh bagríst mit zíngendike bléter:_ _-Kumt tsu undz, ir táyere, un láytert dem ferláng._ (The cities have transformed into stone betrayers, / welded to boiling graves your way. / Forests greeted you with singing leaves: / Come to us, dear ones, and polish the demand) Aaron reads, and transcribes, _zidndike_ (sizzling, boiling, seething, roiling) as if it were _zindike _(sinful.) Apart from making a hash of the meter, and not being what Sutzkever wrote (I've checked all three volumes of his in which this poem appears, and none of them have _zindike_), this causes her interpretation of this stanza to go somewhat off the rails. She relates the image thus to sins of hatredand persecution.
Persecution is to the point of course, but I take the _zidndike griber_ as graves that are themselves murderous. The graves are composed not of earth and stone, but of human masses whose roiling hatred makes them lethal to the objects of that hate. These graves you need but step into, and they will boil you alive. _Zidndik_ has the sense of "incited, excited" in reference to people. It is contrasted with the _zingendike bleter_ (note the sound echo _zidndik/zingendik_) which offer succour and sanctuary. As gentile society has proven itself barbarous, civilizational norm is inverted. It is the wilderness that now offers haven from the savagery of thecities.
_Loyb tsu aykh ir nay-gezálbte gvúredike géyer,_ _Áyer fus hot ópgeshtupt dem lókerdinkn rand._ _S'hot in aykh a glants getón der rum fun Makabéyer,_ _Vi mit yorn tsveytoyznt tsurík in eygn land._ (Praise be to you, you new-anointed, stalwart rovers / your leg has staved back the brink that lay in ambush. / In you the glory of the Maccabees has given forth lustre / As in our own land two thousandyears ago.)
Aaron translates _gvuredike geyer_ as "strong questers" which is an odd choice. _Gvúredik_ "stalwart, heroic, intrepid" is nothing so generic and general as "strong." _geyer_ seems more like wanderer,rover.
_Lokerdik_ "lurking" but more specifically "lying in wait, poised toambush."
_opshtupn_ suggests pushing back, as well as staving off._
_ _Shténdik zénen do tsu dr'erd gebóygene, un míde._ _Vey dem knekht in hófenung af rákhmim - ba a knekht._ _Vi di Makabéyer blozt funánder di miríde,_ _Zol der kóved úfloykhtn in shvérdikn gefékht!_ (There are always those bowed to the earth, tired. / Woe to the slave in hope of mercy from a slave. / As the Maccabees blow rebellion about, / Let glory shine forth in sword combat.) The reader's first instinct may be to take _blozt_ as if its subject were the Maccabees. It isn't. _blozt_ is the imperative plural (i.e. _blow!_). The verb with the separable prefix _funanderblozn_ means roughly " blow all round, blast far and wide." _Gefekht_ could refer to any sort of combat or skirmish, but the sense of dueling is there as well, of noble hand-to-hand battle. Particularly when connected with swords. There's an epic quality here. These partisans are presumably not actually fighting with swords but with projectile weapons. But here they are elevated to the level ofmythic lore.
באַגלייטליד בײַם אַוועקגיין איןוואַלד
אבֿרהם סוצקעווער וואַקסט אַרויס, איר העלדן — פֿעסטע אײַנגעשפּאַרטע יונגען וואַקסט אַרויס, איר צוקונפֿטזין, און זײַט דער וועלט באַוואוסט! גאָר דער ווילן פֿונעם פֿאָלק, אין אונטערערד פֿאַרשלונגען, קלייעט זיך — אַ לאַוועדיקער שטראָם אין אײַער ברוסט. אויב עס האָט פֿאַרזשאַווערט אין דער וואָגלעניש דאָס אײַזן פֿײַלט פֿון אים אַראָפּ די נעכטנס און אים שלײַפֿט אַצינד. קיין מאָל איז ניט שפּעט דעם פֿאָלקס נקמה צו באַווײַזן, אויסצוקויפֿן מיט געווער די דורותֿדיקע זינד. ס׳האָבן שטעט פֿאַרוואַנדלט זיך אין שטיינערנע פֿאררעטער צוגעשמידט צו זידנדיקע גריבער אײַערגאַנג.
האָבן וועלדער אײַך באַגריסט מיט זינגענדיקע בלעטער: — קומט צו אונדז, איר טײַערע, און לײַטערט דעם פֿאַרלאַנג. לויב צו אײַך, איר נײַ-געזאַלבטע גבֿורהדיקע גייער, אײַער פֿוס האָט אָפּעשטופּט דעם לאָקערדיקן ראַנד. ס׳האָט אין אײַך אַ גלאַנץ געטאָן דער רום פֿון מכּבּייער, ווי מיט יאָרן צווייטויזנט צוריק אין אייגן לאַנד. שטענדיק זענען דאָ צו דר׳ערד געבויגענעאון מידע.
וויי דעם קנעכט אין האָפֿענונג אויף רחמים — בײַ אַ קנעכט. ווי די מכּבּייער בלאָזט פֿונאַנדער דימרידה,
זאָל דער כּבֿוד אויפֿלויכטן אין שווערדיקן געפֿֿעכט! ווילנער געטאָ, 10טן סעפּטעמבער 19430 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Holocaust
,
Sutzkever
, War
Poems
,
Yiddish
H LEIVICK: THE HOLY POEM (FROM YIDDISH) (This translation first appeared in Asymptote Magazine)
THE HOLY POEM
By H. Leivick
Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite the original Yiddish_With my holy poem_
_Clenched between my teeth_ _From my wolfcave — my hole, my home —_ _I go out and I roam_ _From street to street:_ _As a wolf with a wretched bone_ _Clenched between his teeth alone.__
_ _There is prey enough in the street_ _to sate a wolven hate,__and sweet_
_is the humid blood that drips_ _from flesh, but sweeter still_ _is the dry dust settling_ _down on jammed lips.__
_ _Struggle on the street,_ _The call of throats._ _Let me this once come out tonight,_ _A deathtooth bite.__That bite is me._
_But I don't come to gnaw._ _I hunch into my little self_ _With head beneath my paw.__
_ _Back to my hole I head_ _And lump onto my bed,__But I am awake,_
_Untired from holding clenched_ _Between my teeth alone__This holy poem_
_As the wolf his wretched bone.__
_ THE ORIGINAL:
מיטן הייליקן ליד צווישן געקלאַמערטע ציין, פֿון וואָלפֿישער הייל – מײַן הויז – לאָז איך אַוועק זיך גאַס אײַן, גאַס אויס, ווי אַ וואָלף מיט אַן עלנטן ביין צווישן געקלאַמערטע ציין. אין גאַסן – פֿאַר וואָלפֿישער שנאה גענוג איז דאָ רויב, און זיס איז פונ לײַבער דאָס דאַמפֿיקע בלוט; נאָר זיסער דער טרוקענער שטויב אויף א ליפּן פֿאַרהאַקטע, וואָס רוט. אויף ראָגן – געראַנגלֹ, פֿון העלדזער – דער רוף: זאָל איין מאָל שוין קומען דער טויטלעכער ביס, דער ביס דאָס בין איך, נאָר – איך קום ניט. איך האָרבע צוואַמען מײַן גוף, דעם קאָפּ ביז אַרונטער די פֿיס.0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Yiddish
H. LEIVICK: "GATES, OPEN" (FROM YIDDISH) H. Leivick (the pen name of Leivick Halpern) was born in 1888 in Chervyn, in the Russian Empire. In 1905 he joined the revolutionary Jewish Bund. The next year, he was arrested by Russian Imperial authorities for distributing revolutionary literature. He refused any legal assistance during his trial and instead delivered a thunderous speech denouncing the tsarism and autocracy. He was sentenced to four years of hard labor (in Minsk, Moscow and St. Petersburg) followed by permanent exile in Siberia, to which he was forcibly marched, on foot, in 1912, over the course of four months. He was finally smuggled out of Siberia with aid of Jewish revolutionaries in the US, and sailed to the America in the summer of 1913. He returned in 1925 to what was by then the Soviet Union, where he was welcomed as a great denouncer of tsarism, and his works printed widely. The feeling, however, was not at all mutual. He returned to the US, quite un-enthusiastic about the Soviet Union, about Soviet life, and about the future of Soviet Jews. The poem here is the first in his book _Lider Fun Gan Eydn: 1932-1936_ "Lyrics from Eden: 1932-1936" (downloadable in Yiddishhere
) a
collection of poems written during his four-year stay in a tuberculosis Sanatorium in Colorado a few years after his return fromthe Soviet Union.
The steppes of Siberia and of Colorado are fused and confused in the poet's mind. Part of him is still in the snow of Siberian exile, even as his body is in the flames of tubercular fever in Colorado. The poem calls to mind the ninth part of his long cycle אין שניי _In Snow_ about his Siberian experience. In that poem, he comes to a gate and asks to be allowed in, to warm himself from the freezing cold, but is denied after people ask who he is and why he is on the road. Here, after having door on door shut to him, as a Russian Jew, as a political prisoner, then again as a Jew rejected while freezing his way through Siberia, he finds the gates and doors open to him in America — a country which he came to love probably more deeply and gratefully than any non-immigrant ever could. But what do these gates and doors in "The Land Colorado" lead to? Life or death? Unknown. As he survived the snow of Siberia, can he survive the tubercular fire here in Colorado? America is also where in the end he is to lay down his burden, his זאַק מיט געשריי, the sack of ache and screams he has born on his proverbial shoulders. The first line also calls to mind the Nileh, the prayer recited on Yom Kippur, which reads פתח לנו שער בעת נעילת שער כי פנה יום _psakh lonu shaar b'eys nilas shaar ki fono yoym_ "open to us the gates at the time of closing gates wherefore the day has turned." The referent is the gates of heaven, which are about to be closed, but the supplicant asks that they be open for just a bit longer to receive the final prayers. Here, however, he asks the gates themselves to open, not God (as in the prayer) or any corporeal resident (as in _In Snow_) to open them for him. The celestial is supplanted by, transformed into, the terrestrial. There is also the matter of the שוועל _shvel_ — the threshold. The liminal place where worlds meet. The poet does not know whether he will leave the sanatorium dead or alive. That _shvel_ is — as we find out in later poems in the collection — a meeting-place of death and life, and of God and Man (or would be if God could ever meet with Man.) This becomes important in later poems in the book which deal with Spinoza and Spinoza's God. That an avowed unreligious secularist who loathed the chains of tradition should allude to Jewish prayer and mysticism in this fashion, and even demonstrate a mystical yearning, is not in the least surprising. He would also have had every reason to expect his secular readers, many of them, to "get it."GATES, OPEN
By H. Leivick
Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite the original Yiddish _Gates, open! Draw closer, _ _Threshold! You'll tell. __I come once again_
_To my snug little cell.__
_ _My body — fire,__My head — snow;_
_And on my shoulders__A sack of woe. _
_
_ _Goodbye. Goodbye._ _Hands. Eyes. That day. _ _Farewell on the lips_ _Burnt out — burned away.__
_ _Farewell to whom?_ _Fled whom? What past?_ _The eternal questions..._ _This time do not ask. __
_ _In fire, in flames_ _The steppeland spreads,_ _And snow in the flames_ _On the mountains' heads. __
_ _Look: gate and door__Are open to me!1_
_Hospital or prison? _ _Or a monastery? __
_ _I lay down at your feet__My sack of woe,_
_Land Colorado_
_Of fire and snow!_
1 - Language-play here. In Yiddish, בײַ אים איז אָפֿן טיר און טויער _ba im iz ofn tir un toyer_ "door and gate are open to him" is a way of saying "he's doing well in life, he'smade it."
THE ORIGINAL:
עפֿן זיך טויערה. לייוויק
עפֿן זיך, טויער, נעענטער זיך, שוועל, – איך קום צו דיר ווידער, צימערל–צעל. מײַן לײַב – פֿײַער, מײַן קאָפּ – שנײ; און אויף מײַנע אַקסלען אַ זאַק מיט געשריי. אָפּשייד. אָפּשייד. אויגן. הענט. אַדיע אויף די ליפּן דערברענט – פֿאַרברענט. מיט וועמען צעשיידט זיך? פֿון וועמען אַוועק? – דאָס אייביקע פֿרעגן דאָס מאָל ניט פֿרעג. אין פֿײַער. אין פֿלאַקער אַרומיקער סטעפּ. און שניי אינעם פֿלאַקער אויף בערגיקע קעפּ. זע, ס׳איז שוין אָפֿן טויער און טיר; – שפּיטאָל ווידער תּפֿיסה? צי גאָר מאָנאַסטיר? איך לייג צו די פיס דיר מײַן זאַק מיט געשריי, לאַנד קאָלאָראַדאָ, פֿון פֿײַער און שניי.0 comments
Links to this post
This translation is
Labels: Yiddish
Older Posts
Home
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)SUBSCRIBE TO
Posts
Atom
Posts
All Comments
Atom
All Comments
BLOGCATALOG
Blog Catalog Blog DirectoryWHO IS I?
* A.Z.
Foreman is a translator and poet who has been obsessed with languages and literature since childhood View my complete profile SUBSCRIBE TO THIS BLOG VIA EMAIL Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog via email: (preferably not a yahoo address, as those addresses have trouble receiving these subscriptions)CARE TO DONATE?
FOLLOWERS
Details
Copyright © 2024 ArchiveBay.com. All rights reserved. Terms of Use | Privacy Policy | DMCA | 2021 | Feedback | Advertising | RSS 2.0