Ganze Jahr Freylach

We want but One Victory / Bulat Okudzhava [tr. to Hebrew]

2011-07-17T02:06:00.013+03:00

Original Нам нужна одна победа, by Bulat Okudzhava. Translation mine.

Е.Г.К. с любовью посвящается.

בנצחון בלבד דיינו / בולאט אוקודז'אבה

כאן לא גדל אף עץ,
ציפור לא תצייץ,
ורק כתף אלי כתף
בארץ ננעץ
בוער וסב לו עולמנו,
ביתנו מעלה עשן,
לכן בנצחון בלבד דיינו,
אחד לכל, וכל מחיר יהיה קטן
אחד לכל, וכל מחיר יהיה קטן

מולנו עוד תקום אש-מוות,
אבל נצא המנצחים.
בלי ספקות, צועד אל תוך הלילה,
גדודנו, מספר עשר, צנחנים,
גדודנו, מספר עשר, צנחנים.

הקרב רק מסתיים,
פוקדים להתקדם,
ולא ניתן אף לשער
מחר אַי נתמקם

נור מאדים מעל ראשינו
והמקלע עוד לא נדם,
לכן, בנצחון בלבד דיינו
אחד לכל, וכל מחיר יהיה קטן
מולנו (...)

מכוך המגננה
בפור המלחמה
הגענו לערי אויב
האין בכך דבר-מה?
ובעתיד נופתע עצמנו,
איך זה הכל קרה אמנם,
אבל היום, בנצחון דיינו
אחד לכל וכל מחיר יהיה קטן.
מולנו (...)

The song originally appeared as the conclusion of the 1970 Soviet movie "Belorus Station" dealing with the meeting of several comrades that had fought together in the Great Patriotic War in the ranks of a mythical (*) 10th Separate Paratrooper Batallion, twenty-five years after the end of the war. The song is sung by the former soldiers in memory of their mutual past, and to demonstrate their lifelong commitment to each other. Solo: Nina Urgant.

(*) In Soviet army, a batallion did not have a unique number, and thus probably several such batallions existed. As in all other forces, paratrooper units were considered elite, although no major action of the Soviet side had ever involved airlifting of infantry.

The song mentions the batallion's starting point as Kursk and Oryol.

Alabama Song / Lyrics auth. desputed, music by Kurt Weil -- tr. to Hebrew

2010-07-07T23:12:00.002+03:00

שיר אלבמה

הראינו השביל לאיזו מסבאה
הו, אל תשאל
הו, אל תשאל
כי אם לא נמצא אף לא מסבאה —
ניפול מתים ודי
ניפול מתים ודי

ירח-אלבמה
הזמן לומר שלום
איבדנו את המאמא
נשתה עוד קצת היום

הראינו השביל לעוד איזו ילדה
הו, אל תשאל
הו אל תשאל,
כי אם לא נמצא לנו עוד איזו ילדה —
ניפול מתים ודי
ניפול מתים ודי

ירח אלבמה...

מוקדש לה.

Literature is inconsistent with regard to authorship of this song — most sources cite Bertold Brecht, but at least one mentions Elisabeth Hauptmann. The music is (undisputedly) by Kurt Weil.

The song's Wikipedia entry.

The Doors' performance of the song:

The Love of Therese di Meun, poem II / Leah Goldberg [translated]

2010-04-26T00:54:00.004+03:00

I do not want at all my sleeping eyes,
To see you all the time, nor do I wish to shake,
When my doors open. I do not want to think
Of you, not then, nor when the day is bright,

And least of all, I do not wish to make
Out in young belles' gazes, wide awake,
Delighted victory, contempt and stings.
I want no part in any of these things.

How come, thus far, in my indifferent peace,
I lived before, so wise, so self-assured,
With firm and quiet dignity I carried on my years,

At night from awful frights I stayed secure,
But very sweet indeed were moments we endured,
And waiting turns to wanting with shamed ease.

Translation mine. Original here.

Rachel's and Wilfred Owen's poems - in their own handwriting!

2009-06-27T08:04:00.004+03:00

Dear readers - here's a rare gem I'd found today. Many of Rachel's poems - in her own handwriting! I wrote about Rachel last year: a translation of Closed Garden.

Also, a site that I had known of for some years - First World War poetry digital archive - includes originals of Wilfred Owen's poems in his handwriting. I wrote about Owen's Anthem For Doomed Youth" and Parable of the Old Man and the Young

So we have split / Leah Goldberg [translated]

2009-06-13T08:50:00.007+03:00

To the same X., as a token of friendship.
To S., for loving this poem.

So we have split, thus well the anger lingers,
The fog between us as a wall.
The little drop remaining on my fingers,
Must be a raindrop, not a tear at all.

Our age is shamed by crying to a fault,
No one will cry for love that's coming to an end.
Both Judgement Day and Mercy's Nights we'll fend,
Indifferent and proud — tears won't fall.

So we have split, the street has yelled and cheered,
Some rush has thrust me forth, while all against,
Hung like a bridal veil, the fog appeared.
But why my heart is filled with joy unbased?
Perhaps &mdash in spite of all — it was a tear.

Translated by yours truly.

נפרדנו כך. היטב, היטב חרה לי.
הערפל בינינו כחומה.
זאת הטיפה שעל ידי נותרה לי
טיפת סגריר ודאי היא, לא דמעה.
לדור הזה הבכי הוא כלימה,
הוא לא יבכה על אהבה גוססת.
ביום הדין ובלילות החסד
אדיש וגא הוא לא יוריד דמעה.
נפרדנו כך הרחוב המה, המה.
דחפני איזה הלך, ומנגד
הערפל תלוי כהינומה.
מאין בלבי חדווה חוגגת?
אולי, בכל זאת, זו הייתה דמעה.

A link to a high-school level analysis of the poem.

Strawberries / Yona Wallach [translated, WARNING - RACY!]

2009-06-04T22:24:00.006+03:00

With gratitude to P., the best squad commander I've ever had, who inadvertently reminded me about this poem's existence.

Yona Wallach (יונה וולך) was a modern Israeli poet, whose style was a rare combination of the obscene and the spirited. Her poem Strawberries is one of her last works.

Original in Hebrew.

When you come to sleep with me,
You shall wear a black dress
Decorated with them strawberries
And a black kerchief
Also decorated with them strawberries,
And you shall grasp a basket of them strawberries
And sell me them strawberries,
And say in a voice that is thin and sweet -
'Them Strawberries, Sirrah, Them Strawberries,
Do you want Them Strawberries?',
And wear not a thing under that dress,
For then,
Strings will raise you up above,
Invisible or otherwise,
And will lower you,
Straight upon my penis.

Translation mine.

Here this poem is used to a great effect in by Hahamishia Hakamerit in their comic sketch "The Sergeant's Quotes":

In Thy Gates, oh, Jerusalem

2009-05-24T21:51:00.009+03:00

In honor of the recently (last Thursday) past Jerusalem Day in Israel - one of the classic songs written in its praise.

In Your Gates, Jerusalem was written by Yossi Gamzo, with music by Yehezkiel Bar-On.

The lyrics are intertwined with allusions to Biblical texts regarding Jerusalem -

"עומדות רגלינו בשעריך" is an allusion to Psalms 122 ("Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem.")

"ציון הלא תשאלי לשלום בחוריך" is quote out of Rabbi Yehuda Ha-Levi ("Zion - will you not ask for you imprisoned ones");

"אם אשכח ירושליים" - "If I forget Thee, oh Jerusalem..." (Psalms 137);

"איכה ישבת בדד" is the opening of the Book of Lamentations ("How the City sits solitary?");

"מאכלת ואיל", "The Knife and the Ram" is an allusion of the Sacrifice of Isaac, of which I had already written.

"למנצח מזמור" is an allusion to e.g., Psalms 20, "To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David." but also a pun, since in Modern Hebrew it means "To the Victorious One, A Psalm".

Probably there are several more allusions within, but being a rogue and peasant slave - those are all that I could see.
The text is extremely militant by modern standards -

איכה ישבת בדד, שסועה בין גדרות התייל
ואיך נשבענו לך, עיר מלך ונביא,
כי לא נישק נערותינו על שפתיים
עד אם נישק לכותל המערבי

Among the barbed-wired fences, how do you sit alone?
For prophets and for kings of you, we all
Have sworn, our kisses to our loved ones, we'll postpone
Until we've come to kiss the Western Wall!

(Tr. mine. apologies for the phrasing, the meter is difficult)

Performer in the recording (which is not the canonic one) is the great Israeli singer Yehoram Gaon.

Chet Atkins plays The Beatles

2009-05-22T12:35:00.002+03:00

Chet Atkins was a wonderful American guitar performer, whose virtuoso guitar style established a new standard of popular instrumental music.

Today I stumbled on his recording of a medley of 4 Beatles songs, and I couldn't resist the temptation of putting, as I hold the Beatles among the finest authors of popular Western music of the 20th century, and Chet Atkins - among the finest of performers. Besides, the second of the songs has struck a chord with me today.

The songs are -

If I Fell in Love (A Hard Day's Night, track 3)

For No One (Revolver, track 10)

Something (Abbey Road, track 2)

Lady Madonna (released contemporarily as a single, then on Past Masters Vol. 2)

Also worth noting - Tina Turner's cameo at the end the video, and a bit of dialogue around it.

A Night, A Street, A Lamp, A Drugstore / A. Blok, [tr. to Hebrew]

2009-05-17T21:43:00.009+03:00

נערך, 23 במאי

לילה, רחוב, אור, בית-מרקחת,
חרוט-פנס לא מהימן.
תחיה עוד דור — יהיה עוד כך,
אין יציאה. תהיה רק כאן.

תמות — אז שוב תתחיל עוד פעם,
ומחדש הכל יסוב:
הלילה, כפור מרשרש במים,
בית-התרופות, פנס, רחוב.

אלכסנדר בלוק, 10 באוקטובר 1912.

תרגום של עבדכם הנאמן.

Ночь, улица, фонарь, аптека,
Бессмысленный и тусклый свет.
Живи еще хоть четверть века —
Все будет так. Исхода нет.

Умрешь — начнешь опять сначала,
И повторится все, как встарь:
Ночь, ледяная рябь канала,
Аптека, улица, фонарь.

10 октября 1912г.

A translation to English, by Dina Belayeva.

An analysis, in Russian, may be found here.

A very amusing parody, in Russian - "Ночь. Улица. Фонарь. Аптека. / Бар. Клуб. Девицы. Дискотека...".

Image above - the poem set on a wall in Leiden, of all places.

Why should I care? / Shalom Hanoch

2009-04-16T09:50:00.004+03:00

Shalom Hanoch is a major Israeli artist. He rose to prominence in the early 1970s, as part of Israel's first generation of rock artists. This movement swept away the collectivism, the major feature of prior Israeli culture. As much a part of this movement as any other artist, Hanoch's lyrics ("Why should I care?", "Love of my Youth") have, however, became defining narratives of a whole generation.

תן לצעוק, תן ללמוד,
תן לצחוק ותן לשמוע.
תן לחיות ותן לטעות
תן לעצמך לסלוח.
פשוט לאהוב.

Let me learn, and let me shout;
let me fail and let me live;
let me laugh and stick about;
let yourself forgive.
Just to love, and no more.
(Tr. by yours humbly)

I wonder whom Hanoch is addressing. I recall a similar passage out of my beloved Leah Goldberg -

למדני ה' ברך והפלל
על סוד עלה קמל על נגה פרי בשל
על החרות הזאת: לראות, לחוש לנשום
לדעת, לייחל, להיכשל

This video presents the canonic recording of this song, by Hanoch and Arik Einstein (as well as "moral support" by their friend Uri Zohar).

Having returned to homeland / Joseph Brodsky

2009-04-04T09:09:00.006+03:00

Воротишься на родину. Ну что ж.
Гляди вокруг, кому еще ты нужен,
кому теперь в друзья ты попадешь?
Воротишься, купи себе на ужин

какого-нибудь сладкого вина,
смотри в окно и думай понемногу:
во всем твоя одна, твоя вина,
и хорошо. Спасибо. Слава Богу.

Как хорошо, что некого винить,
как хорошо, что ты никем не связан,
как хорошо, что до смерти любить
тебя никто на свете не обязан.

Как хорошо, что никогда во тьму
ничья рука тебя не провожала,
как хорошо на свете одному
идти пешком с шумящего вокзала.

Как хорошо, на родину спеша,
поймать себя в словах неоткровенных
и вдруг понять, как медленно душа
заботится о новых переменах.

Иосиф Бродский, 1961г.

And There Was Between Us Just The Shining / Leah Goldberg, performance by Tsila Dagan

2009-02-14T10:20:00.002+02:00

I earlier wrote of (and translated to English) a wonderful sonnet by Leah Goldberg, And There was Between Us Just The Shining.

Two performances of it by the late Tsila Dagan have since been uploaded to YouTube, and I'd like to post them. The first performance is the original 1970's version; the second one is a concert performance by her, which is plainer, but still notable.

Farewell to Love / Michael Drayton

2009-02-05T17:57:00.002+02:00

I was not previously familiar with Michael Drayton's work. Wikipedia writes that he was an Elizabethan poet - a contemporary of Shakespeare - and that he enjoyed rather more acclaim at his time than he does now.

But I adore sonnets, and so as I was reading Rivka Yaron's stylistic guide, I stumbled upon this translation, which I liked, for it came in due time. Therefore, I bring that to you -

Sonnet LXI

Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part --
Nay, I have done: you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free.

Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows;
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.

Now, at the last gasp of Love’s latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes, --

Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou mightst him yet recover.

סונט 61

הן אין מנוס: נשקיני ושלום
לא, כי נשלם, שוב אין לך חלק בי
וטוב לבי, כן, טוב לבי היום,
שכך אני נחלץ, קב ונקי,

נפרד לעד, מתיר את השבועות
וביום שניפגש שוב אימתי,
אל ייראה על מצחותינו אות
ששמץ אהבה מכבר עוד חי

עתה, לקול רחרוח אהבה גוועת
שבמותה תשוקה מוטלת דום
שמרגלותיה אמונה כורעת,
ותום לבב עיניו יעצום

שכבר אמרו כולם נואש: עתה
עוד יש לאל ידך להחיותה

תרגום: אשר רייך
Translation: Asher Reich

P.S. This Sonnet LXI forms an interesting counterpoint to another author's Sonnet LXI. I hope I may write of that some day.

The Parable of the Old Man and the Young / Wilfred Owen

2009-01-30T08:56:00.002+02:00

I recently visited Jerusalem, and among other things, enjoyed a great view from the Armon ha-Natsiv Promenade. The guide spoke of the (near) sacrifice of Isaac, which is said to have occured at the very spot on the Moriah mountain on which later stood the Jewish Temple, then the Muslims built their Dome of the Rock.

Wilfred Owen, of whose Anthem for Doomed Youth I had already written, thought about Isaac's sacrifice too, but used it to speak of his own time and doom.

So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
And as they sojourned both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps
and builded parapets and trenches there,
And stretchèd forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him, thy son.
Behold! Caught in a thicket by its horns,
A Ram. Offer the Ram of Pride instead.

But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.
(Owen)

Was Owen's war - World War I just about personal pride? I don't think so. But this poem rings especially true when one thinks of the sins of pride of each of us individually:

Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus,
that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans.
Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades,
and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures,
for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day
on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles,
first fell out with one another.
(Homer, Iliad, I)

On the Path towards the Pools / Yoram Taharlev, Alona Tural, Chava Alberstein

2009-01-13T00:52:00.010+02:00

Israeli mourning songs are a distinct thematic genre, which may be characterized by extreme melancholy and idealization of the innocent past as opposed to the bereaved present. Stylistically the sad content is counterpointed by beautiful melodies and eloquent lyrics. Such is this wonderful song, which has been on my mind lately (*). It is called 'On the Path towards the Pools' by Yoram Taharlev.

(*) I disdain from politics. However, I feel obliged to remark that my sorrow is not due to recent events of national significance. Foes of Israel should all drop dead before they make me sad — gladly the IDF is there to help them in this undertaking.

בשביל אל הבריכות פסעו שלובי ידים
וכוכבים נשרו למים עם הטל
ותן בודד צחק הרחק בתוך הליל
והיא אמרה: אתה כל כך יפה חיל

And on the path towards the pools they paced, entwined,
While stars have fallen in the water with the dew,
Amidst the dark, a distant jackal whined,
"You're so fair" — she said — "my soldier, look at you!"

(Tr. mine. I hope to complete it one day)

Note the scat refrain between the verses - generally scat is not very typical of Israeli music; it was probably added to add spice to the verses that are otherwise very even. The refrain between the penultimate verse and the final one is more elaborate than the rest. It is longer - with a change of scales (note the emotional coloring of this section!) - and an instrumental counterpoint to the scat. Overall, the base is very prominent in this performance and gives creates a sense of a rapid and irreversible procession of events (cf. for instance with the contemporary "Flowers in the muzzle" - "פרחים בקנה").

The Hebrew lyrics are precise and meaningful - Yoram Taharlev is remarkable for his storytelling. The music and Chava Albertein's naïve recitation of the narrative reach straight into my heart —

Dialogue - He / Leah Goldberg

2009-01-11T21:36:00.005+02:00

בשתיקתך, שקע כבמצולה
דברי המר, אהבתי קשבת -
ממרחקים, אין - הד אלי נושבת
שלות בשרך בלי חסד וחמלה

גופך היה לי נכר וגולה
ממבטך כמאגם חוזרת
תמיד אלי דמותי המתאכזרת
מצלילותך - נפשי האפלה.

אביונותי - משפע ותפארת
את לי הדרך, לבדידות כפולה.

Your silence swallowed up as an abyss
My bitter words. My love now hears you whole —
And from the stretching silence blows,
With neither grace nor mercy, a calm peace

Your body turned an exile overseas
In your two eyes, as in a lake's cool glass
At me my cruelty must pass,
Your clarity reflects my soul amiss,

My destitution - from all the wealth and splendour
To twice the loneliness for me your road proceeds.

Translated by yours truly, Jan. 2009.

Is it True (You will walk in the field) / Leah Goldberg, translated

2008-12-27T10:43:00.011+02:00

Today I present a translation to English of Leah Goldberg's "Is it true", popularly known as "You will walk in the field" ("האמנם"/"את תלכי בשדה"). I wrote about this poem in my first blog post. Below is one of Hava Alberstein's performances of the song (I hold her to be the best performer of this song). You might also find the video of Shlomi Saranga's recent cover interesting. Finally, an analysis of the work is available from Wikimedia.

To Y., with pride and gratitude.

Is it true - will there ever come days of forgiveness and mercy?
And you'll walk in the field, and it will be an innocent's walk.
And your feet on the medick's small leaves will be gently caressing,
And sweet will be stings, when you're stung by the rye's broken stalks!

And the drizzle will catch you in pounding raindrops' folly
On your shoulders, your breast and your neck, while your mind will be clean,
You will walk the wet field, and the silence will fill you -
As does light in a dark cloud's rim

And you'll breathe in the furrow in breaths calm and even,
And the pond's golden mirror will show you the Sun up above,
And once more all the things will be simple, and present, and living,
And once more you will love - yes, you will, yes, once more you will love!

You will walk. All alone. Never hurt by the blazing inferno
Of the fires on the roads fed by horrors too awful to stand,
And in your heart of hearts you'll be able to humbly surrender,
In the way of the weeds, in the way of free men.

Translated by yours truly, Dec. 2008.

Francesco Petrarca / Canzoniere, Sonnet 1

2008-12-20T09:50:00.005+02:00

Francesco Petrarca, who lived in the 14th century, is often called the "father of humanism" and is considered a progenitor of the Renaissance (which he preceded by a full century!). His contribution to world culture deserves a special mention, but I haven't the time to describe it now - so I will confine myself now to quoting the first poem out of his wonderful Sonnets, which explains his motivation for writing. I don't know Italian, but I the English translation is good in its own right.

Voi ch'ascoltate in rime sparse il suono
di quei sospiri ond'io nudriva 'l core
in sul mio primo giovenile errore
quand'era in parte altr'uom da quel ch'i' sono,

del vario stile in ch'io piango et ragiono
fra le vane speranze e 'l van dolore,
ove sia chi per prova intenda amore,
spero trovar pietà, nonché perdono.

Ma ben veggio or sí come al popol tutto
favola fui gran tempo, onde sovente
di me mesdesmo meco mi vergogno;

et del mio vaneggiar vergogna è 'l frutto,
e 'l pentersi, e 'l conoscer chiaramente
che quanto piace al mondo è breve sogno

Ye who in rhymes dispersed the echoes hear
Of those sad sighs with which my heart I fed
When early youth my mazy wanderings led,
Fondly diverse from what I now appear,

Fluttering 'twixt frantic hope and frantic fear,
From those by whom my various style is read,
I hope, if e'er their hearts for love have bled,
Not only pardon, but perhaps a tear.

But now I clearly see that of mankind
Long time I was the tale: whence bitter thought
And self-reproach with frequent blushes teem;

While of my frenzy, shame the fruit I find,
And sad repentance, and the proof, dear-bought,
That the world's joy is but a flitting dream.

Translation by Lord Charlemont

Recitation in Italian -

A Closed Garden / Rachel, translated

2008-12-14T16:38:00.008+02:00

Rachel (birth name Rachel Bluwstein) was born into a respectable family of Russian Jews. She grew on the lyrical conventions of the Russian Romantic poetry. Her first works, written in Russian, appear quite mediocre. However, her consequent work in Hebrew is superb and groundbreaking. Main themes are reflection on her coming to Ottoman Turk-controlled Palestine on ideological grounds, her unhappy love affairs giving birth to a profound sense of loneliness, and her eventual mortal illness - tuberculosis ("consumption").

Her personal, clear, stremalined language marks a considerable change from the Bibleic and Talmudic-laced language of many of her contemporaries. In particular, it is interesting that Rachel intended the vowels in her poems to be pronounced with a Sephardic intonation (which eventually was became the dominant in Modern Israeli Hebrew), whereas her contemporaries Bialik and Tchernihovsky used the Ashkenazi intonation. Altogether, her poetic style became the progenitor for much of Israel's lyrical poetry for the decades following her untimely death.

מי אתה? מדוע יד מושטת
לא פוגשת יד אחות
ועיניים, אך תמתינה רגע
והנה שפלו כבר נבוכות

גן נעול. לא שביל אליו לא דרך.
גן נעול - אדם.
האלך לי, או אכה בסלע
עד זוב דם.

To an unknowing muse.

Who are you? And why a reached-out hand
Fails to meet a hand - her mate?
And the gaze - awaiting for one moment,
In the next one is so shyly waived.

A closed garden. No path, no road to go there.
A closed garden is the Man.
Should I leave, or face the rock and batter,
With my hands - a bleeding ram?

Translation by yours truly.

A performance by Shuki and Dorit, music by Shuki (they started performing this song in 1978; the recording is from 1979) -

Ithaca / Constantine P. Cavafy

2008-12-01T08:37:00.008+02:00

Constantine P. Cavafy was a great Modernist poet that wrote in New Greek around the turn of the 20th century. He spent most of his life in Alexandria. His life as a whole was not dramatic (whereas Europe endured World War I during that same period, and his ethnic homeland Greece endured a bitter and lengthy confrontation with Turkey).

Judging by the good translations, Cavafy's poetry is technically superb, with words and expressions chosen extremely precisely, obviously through much labor and rewriting. He is extremely attached to his classic heritage and writes much about history and philosophy; another theme is his own sensual life (he was openly homosexual). His expressions are extremely colorful and vivid, his use of free (non-rhymed) verse combines the immediacy of everyday speech with the beauty of classical poetry.

The lyrics of the poem in English are available from here; a wonderful translation to Hebrew is available here (alas, I learnt that the translator died a relatively young man); the Greek original - here.

The poem in English, narrated by Sean Connery:

And in the original Greek:

And now, a personal note:

Two years ago, as I was nearing a graduation ceremony of sorts, I proposed to read this poem to signify the common change of venue (naturally, the proposal was benevolently ignored). Nevertheless, I feel it holds true even more at this anniversary.

I wish our followers, the 3³s, a sound journey.

Samba em preludio, Samba for Two / Baden Powell and Vinícius de Moraes, Mati Kaspi and Yehudit Ravitz

2008-11-30T12:24:00.009+02:00

Upd. Dec. 27, replaced the video that was taken down with a working one.

In continuation to my infatuation with bossa nova (as I already showed by posting Aguas de Março earlier this month), I'd like to put forth another beautiful melody out of the 1960s.

The authors are Baden Powell (named after Robert Baden Powell, the father of scouting) and Vinicius de Moraes.

Mati Kaspi and Yehudit Ravitz covered it as a part of Kaspi's 1977 "Beautiful Tropic Land" (Eretz Tropit Yafa) project, which included highly artistic renditions in Hebrew of famous Latin American songs.

And There Was Between Us Just The Shining / Leah Goldberg, translated

2008-11-14T10:48:00.008+02:00

Edited Nov. 15th to speak about Leah Goldberg's attitude to writing 'classical' poems. -Yours truly

Edited Nov. 20th - modified one line of the translation, which appeared lame to me. -Yours truly

Leah Goldberg, herself a modernist and a literary critic, was extremely conscious to the fact that classical poetic forms were falling out of fashion. So she asserted stylistic justification for many of her poems by claiming they are replicas or derivatives from "genuine" classical works.

Goldberg herself translated a considerable number of classical works; however she wrote yet more of her own. In my opinion, they are wonderfully authentic and display formidable mastery of the language.

Poem II from the cycle "Love Poems from an Ancient Tome" (circa 1944) is a lovely sample -

ולא היה ביננו אלא זוהר
עניו של השכמה ברחוב כפרי
ולבלובו של גן בטרם פרי
בלובן תפרחתו יפת התואר.

ומה מאוד צחקת באמרי
כי אל השחר הענוג כורד
אקרב ואקטפנו למזכרת
ואשמרנו בין דפי ספרי.

את זרועך נשאת, התזכור?
והנידות אט ענף תפוח,
ועל ראשי ירד מטר צחור.

מאחורי גבך הכפר ניעור,
החלונות נצטלצלו עם רוח -
ולא היה בינינו אלא אור.

To X., who reminded me that true, selfless, friendship is not an extinct species.

And there was between us just the shining
The modest shining of a village dawn,
A garden's blossom ere the fruit have shown,
In its new bright and fair flower binding,

And then you laughed so hard when I intoned,
That I'll approach the heavens' rosy sweetness,
And pick it up, and fold it lest it slips us,
And store it midst the pages of my tome

Do you recall - you raised your arm so high -
And then you slowly stirred the apple trusses,
And rain fell on me - of perfect white,

Behind your back, the street wore off the night;
And morning wind has rung the window-glasses,
And there was between us just the light.

Translated by yours truly.

The poem was set to music by Danny Litany in a lovely bluesy way, and sung by Tsila Dagan. Here is a much later performance by Danny Litany himself (as in most cases, I hold that Leah Goldberg sounded better when performed by a female singer).

And the Rain Will Come, Águas de Março / Antonio Carlos Jobim

2008-11-08T08:35:00.010+02:00

I shall mention today a wonderful Brazilian song called Águas de Março, or Waters of March. Two English translations (one of them by Jobim himself) may be found here (also from this link - the song has been recently voted by a committee of Brazilian musicians as "the best Brazilian song".

In Brazil, March is a rainy month at the end of autumn (for us, sordid northern-hemispheriacs, it corresponds to September). The song is written in a stream-of-consciousness technique.

The Hebrew lyrics may be found here. The translator was Eli Mohar, and the performers - Gidi Gov and Mika Karni for Gov's TV program "Layla Gov" (probably at the end of the 1990s)

והגשם יבוא וישטוף כל כאב
הבטחה של חיים, השמחה שבלב

And the rain will come, washing out all the pain,
With the promise of life, and heart's joy again

An inferior (but freely-available-via-YouTube) version was recorded by Ninet Tayeb and Ran Danker:

And a recording in Portuguese by Elis Regina and Tom Jobim -

Harmonica Song / Natan Alterman

2008-11-02T21:54:00.013+02:00

Natan Alterman, one of Israel's first great poets, wrote abundantly, combining at the same time high literary work with poetic commentary on contemporary life, and with considerably more down-to-earth lyrics to popular songs. All three rôles won him acclaim during his lifetime (a theme on which I might elaborate in the future).

The song I will bring here is called the "Harmonica Song", "Zemer Ha-mafukhit" (זמר המפוחית). Lyrics in Hebrew are available at this link. It is written as a dialogue between a man (who is by connotation a sailor) and his beloved. The man is drunk and tired of himself, "but not of wine - but because of some rag-tag Miriam".

I like Alterman's sharp metaphor (as well as the fact that he put it in the lyrics of a song intended to be popular) —

האהבה היא תוך-תוכו של התפוח
אבל בנישואין לוקחים את הקליפה

Love is the very flesh that makes the apple,
But getting married is all about its skin

So Alterman's hero will marry his Miriam, but he will leave her to sail away, only to think of her at sea. This is very much Alterman's ideal of being in love, found in many of his works - passionate, hopeless, alienated seemingly out of choice, but in essence - due to his hero's inherent inability to stay in one place.

The song (like many of Alterman's) was set to music by Sasha Argov. The original performance was recorded in the 1960s by Edna Goren and Kobi Recht. Mati Kaspi subsequently recorded a version in which he sang all the lyrics - in my opinion it loses the vital dynamic of the dialogue. I would like to conclude with a recent performance by the original performers, with a nice jazzy accompaniment:

Renewal / Naomi Shemer

2008-10-24T13:40:00.009+02:00

With the end of Tishrei holidays, we begin to slide into the working routine of a new year.

Naomi Shemer wrote a wonderful song about that, which is called "Renewal" (Hitkhadshut / התחדשות). Whenever I hear it, it strikes a chord with me. You may find the Hebrew lyrics here.

Naomi Shemer wrote, translated and composed more than two hundred songs, most of them in extremely simple, lucid language (although spiced with allusions to the Jewish sacred literature, in which she was knowledgeable to a remarkable degree). Overall, her work is remarkably meaningful; in spite of never being a member of the clique of Israeli classics, she enjoyed popular admiration by the common Israelis.

במסע שלא נגמר
בין שדות הצל ושדות האור
יש נתיב שלא עברת
ושתעבור
שעון החול, שעון חייך
מאותת לך עכשיו
למד-דלת, למד-הא, למד-וו.

In the never-ending journey,
Light and darkness interleaved,
There's a path you've not yet followed,
And this time you will,
The sand-glass, our lives' measure,
signals now as it proceeds -
thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six.

(Tr. by yours humbly)

The numerals in the original Hebrew are text are the traditional gematria (lamed-vav = 36). Naomi Shemer probably speaks of the Cabbalistic belief that a person's prime age is 36.

Here is a recording of the song, performed by Ofra Haza:

Fastidious Horses / Vladimir Vysotsky

2008-10-21T10:02:00.011+02:00

Today I will write of a great modern Russian poet, Vladimir Vysotsky. A prominent theatre actor in his own right, his real fame originated in a corpus of approximately 500 poems, written to be sung under the accompaniment of a Russian string guitar.

Musically, as songs, these works were usually very basic, almost always set in the same minor scale, melodically simple and avoiding complex guitar technique.

The lyrics are another matter entirely. Vysotsky employs different stratas of regular, everyday speech (including the Russian criminal jargon, "fenya", illiterate women's speech, 'proletariat speech', 'intelligent Soviet citizen speech'), however beneath it is a powerful undercurrent of the author making a point - and often having a very good swing at it. Almost all songs were performed by the author; when employing the different stratas of speech, he masterfully accented them, achieving perfect intonation, ranging from straight-out parody to profound drama.

Vysotsky himself was a highly educated man (which was desirable for theatre actors of his time, unlike much of what's hot in Hollywood or the Israeli show industry today). He was a patriot, and as all Soviet citizens, fearful from the KGB. However his sense of poetic honesty often brought him to mention the inhumanity and insincerity of the regime, usually not head-on. What appears to the Western observer as mild and casual critique, was quite acrimonious in Soviet standards. However, due to his popularity Vysotsky himself did not suffer personal persecution, besides not being allowed to perform officially for most of his life. Instead, his recordings had to be distributed via bootleg channels.

Personally, Vysotsky was extremely temperamental, fiery and unstable. He was an alcoholic and probably also a drug user. This led to his early death at age of 43. The song I bring here - 'Capricious Horses', 'Кони привередливые' - appears to be based on his personal feeling of going over the edge, several years prior to his death.

Original lyrics in Russian

Unruly Horses by Kathrine and Bruce Hamilton. Notable for its high poetic language.

Capricious Horses by Ilya Shambat - sounds a bit easier.

I also attach a video of a performance by Vysotsky himself. I saw once a comment (I'm not sure if on this video or another one of the same song) - some lady wrote that 'seems he really means it'. He sure did.

The Ballad of John, Yoko and Arik

2008-10-17T14:06:00.013+02:00

My friend John corrected me regarding the release of the song - it only appeared as a single and on Past Masters Vol 2., never on the White Album. John - I bow to thy higher wisdom. -Yours truly, October 19th, 2008

The song I bring to you this time is called "The Ballad Of John and Yoko", which appeared for the first time on the Beatles' White Album as a single in 1969. A link to the lyrics.(wait, there's more below the clip!)

It turns out that Arik Einstein, arguably the father of Israeli pop-rock, recorded a number of Beatles songs, which he translated in the characteristically ironic mood.

His version is called "היה לנו טוב, נהיה לנו רע", which translates as "It was once good, it became worse". You may see the lyrics under this link.
Of worth is the following stanza:

ג'ון ויוקו הם על הכיף-כיפאק
אייבי נתן גם כם נחמד
אולי הם רק סתם שיש בהם דם
וגם אולי זה כבר הגיע הזמן

This translates as -

John and Yoko are both OK,
Abie Natan's very nice too
Their plethora is showing its signs,
But maybe it is really the time

(Tr. by yours truly. I wasn't actually aware of the medical meaning of 'plethora' until I had to translate this)

YouTube hosts a recording of Arik Einstein performing it, however it amused me more to bring the video version of the song, recorded by the punk band "Safed Elders" , in Hebrew "זקני צפת", "Ziknei Zfat" (notorious for their masterpiece "שישי שבת", "Weekend").

So here your are. For the sake of proper credit, "The Ballad Of John & Yoko" by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, lyrics translated as "It was once good, it became worse" by Arik Einstein, recording by "The Elders of Safed".

Joyous Song / Jacob Orland, Mordechai Zeira / שיר שמח / יעקב אורלנד, מרדכי זעירא

2008-10-12T17:35:00.007+02:00

Today I chose to mention 'Joyous Song', one of the classics of Israeli popular music.

It was written in 1954, "on high orders", following a massacre of the passengers of an Israeli bus at the Scorpions' Ascent in the Negev by Fedayun guerrillas.

A nice translation of the lyrics may be found at Yahoo answers.

קישור למילים

שיר זה נכתב במקור "בהוראה מלמעלה" בעקבות הרצח האכזרי של נוסעי אוטובוס ישראלי במעלה עקרבים בשנת 1954 על-ידי פדאיון מצריים.

זמר שכזה / יענקלה רוטבליט, נורית הירש

2008-10-07T21:15:00.005+02:00

לאחרונה נתקלתי בשיר ישראלי נפלא, הלא הוא "זמר שכזה".

ברצוני לפרוט אחדות מהסיבות שאהבתי אותו: ראשית אינו נוגה (וזאת בניגוד לנימה המינורית של רבים משירינו האהובים), אלא להפך אופטימי. שנית, בניגוד לשיממון הנפוץ של ארבע רבעים מרובעים ומסוגרים, המנגינה דווקא מכילה תערובת יפה של 4/4 ו-6/6 וביניהן סינקופות ממוקמות היטב. לבסוף, השיר מנוסח טוב, שומר על שפה נקייה ויציבה ואינו מתיימר להיות יותר משיר עממי שמח, כאילו שנדרש יותר מזה.

קישור למילים

מילים אחרונות / לאה גולדברג

2008-10-02T09:20:00.005+03:00

א

קר לי מאוד. הגוף לרגלי
כאדרת קרועה. ביד עיפה
אני רושמת
שורה אחרונה של שיר.
כבר במאה השמינית
על שפת הנהר הצהוב
ישב משורר שידע
את מילת הסיום.

ב

מה יהיה בסופנו? השמים
עמדו מלכת.
אלמלא השעון שתקתק
לא ידענו
שכה רחוקים אנו כבר
מן הבוקר.
איזה זרע ישאו הרוחות באביב?
איזה פרח
יצמח על קברנו?
אני אתפלל
שתהיה זאת נורית צהבה.
לפנים
קטפתי אותה בהרים.
מה יהיה בסופנו?

ג

מה יהיה בסופנו?
שני נערים ברחוב
שרים שיר.
בשני חלונות ברחוב
כבר הודלק אור.
שתי אניות בנמל
מפליגות בלילה.
שתי ידי בשתי ידיך
קרות.
מה יהיה בסופנו?

ד

מה יהיה בסופנו? אותות הלילה
יפים אך פשרם סתום. הרוח
מגלגל בשמים את חשוק הכסף.
ירח קדמון! איך שגו כולמו -
האוהבים התמימים וחרטומי מצרים.
עכשיו פסקה את פסוקה הדממה.
ואנחנו
מה יהיה בסופנו?

ה

הכאב
ברור כאור היום.
נעלה מכל ספק,
שלם כאמונה.

השיר הולחן על-ידי אשר ביטנסקי, עובד על-ידי אילן וירצברג והושר על-ידי נורית גלרון.

Ganze Jahr Freylach

2008-09-30T11:48:00.000+03:00

Several years ago, when I was still in school, we attended a wonderful play at the Gesher Theatre. The name of the play was Adam Resurrected, in the original Hebrew - אדם בן כלב, "Adam Ben Kelev" - which is a pun - both "Man, son of a dog" and "Adam, son of a dog".

The play is based on a book by Yoram Kanyuk that deals with a man broken down by the memory of the Holocaust. The book is currently being made into a Hollywood movie, starring Jeff Goldblum (for some reason I was convinced it was Ben Kingsley - where would I be without Wikipedia?).

In a way that proves the genius of the play director (for it does not appear in any way in the book), twice or thrice during the play, a wagon is driven inside the stage, and on it a figure of a clown-become-Auschwitz-inmate. He cries 'גאנצע יאר פריילאך', 'Ganze Jahr Freylach' as he passes over the stage. In Yiddish it means 'Happy All Year Round'.

A bit later, when I started writing in an online forum, I picked this line as my signature. A couple of times, when an opponent wrote something like 'you Jews are too concerned about survival' it reminded me where I stood, as petty and insignificant as it appears now - but the human existence is more often petty and insignificant than not - and I'm no exception; but then, of course there's the hope of occasionally making a good point.

In that mood - friends, countrymen, Romans - on the first day of the new Jewish year 5769, I wish you all the best for a wonderful year.

Gaudeamus Igitur / Author unknown

2008-09-29T12:21:00.000+03:00

Gaudeamus igitur,
Juvenes dum sumus;
Post jucundam juventutem,
Post molestam senectutem
Nos habebit humus!

Vita nostra brevis est,
Brevi finietur,
Venit mors velociter,
Rapit nos atrociter,
Nemini parcetur.

Ubi sunt qui ante
Nos in mundo fuere?
Vadite ad superos,
Transite ad inferos,
Hos si vis videre.

Vivat academia,
Vivant professores,
Vivat membrum quodlibet,
Vivant membra quaelibet,
Semper sint in flore!

Vivant omnes virgines
Faciles, formosae,
Vivant et mulieres,
Tenerae, amabiles,
Bonae, laboriosae!

Vivat et respublica
Et qui illam regit,
Vivat nostra civitas,
Maecenatum caritas,
Quae nos hic protegit!

Pereat tristitia,
Pereant osores,
Pereat diabolus,
Quivis antiburschius,
Atque irrisores!

Quis confluxus hodie
Academicorum?
E longinquo convenerunt,
Protinusque successerunt
In commune forum;

Vivat nostra societas,
Vivant studiosi
Crescat una veritas,
Floreat fraternitas,
Patriae prosperitas.

Alma Mater floreat,
Quae nos educavit;
Caros et commilitones,
Dissitas in regiones
Sparsos, congregavit;

Several translations of this song may be found at this link.

A Latin textbook in my possession claims that the poem was often recited by vagrantes - traveling singers, some of whom were defrocked monks, and are also known for distributing Carmina Burana, of which I will perhaps write later.

Mood: Therefore, joyful.

Стих / Мандельштам О.Э - A poem / O. Mandelstam, translated by yours humbly

2008-09-10T12:49:00.001+03:00

Бессоница, Гомер, тугие паруса.
Я список кораблей прочел до середины...
Сей длинный выводок, сей поезд журавлиный,
Что над Элладою когда-то поднялся.

Как журавлиный клин в чужие рубежи
На головаx царей божественная пена...
Куда плывете вы? Когда бы не Элена,
Что Троя вам одна, аxейские мужи??

И море и Гомер все движимо любовью..
Куда же деться мне? И вот, Гомер молчит..
И море Черное витийствуя шумит
И с страшным гроxотом подxодит к изголовью...

1915

About a year ago, I almost translated this into English. Today I stumbled upon my draft, and brought it to completion.

Ich danke Herr Danny "zwei hundert gramm"
für seine Beratung und Förderung. Danny - du bist der Mann!

Insomnia, I’m into Homer, sails are tight
I read the Catalogue of Ships until its middle,
This brood of cranes, this train’s shining needle,
Which over Hellas once had made its flight

A living wedge into the foreign skies
The royal heads are bearing foam from heavens
Where do you go, Acheans? Were it not for Helen,
What would have Troy alone been in your eyes?

Both Homer and the Sea – Love drives it all,
Whom shall I listen to? But Homer speaks no more
And the Black Sea pounds upon its shore
And with great noise reposes at my pillow.

1915
Tr. by yours humbly 2007-8

Mood: insomniac

אהבה ראשונה / לאה גולדברג

2008-09-01T10:00:00.000+03:00

א

כה חביבה וכה נלגעת
ומרחוק - כל כך קטנה
את שוב נשקפת לי מנגד,
אהבתי הראשונה

עיי מפלת, דם ואפר
שנים, שנים רובצות כתהום
בין חלומות של בית-הספר
ובגרותי כבדת היום.

האם עיני כלואות בצהר
התמוגגו בצפיה?
האם לך, יפה-התואר,
הוספתי נוי בהזיה

הלכבודך, הלכבודנו
הדליקו כל הערמונים
בימי תפרחת בגננו
נרות זקופים ולבנים?

והאני היא המבהלת
מעז של להט וצנה
עת כי יורדים פתותי-השלג
על נשיקתך האחרונה?

איכה בגרנו בינתים!
הגם אתה מאז תשא
צריבת השלג על שפתים
דמעת הכפור הנמסה?

ב

הערב בשדרה כחלחל אפר,
אחרית האור באמירים נוגעת
עוד מלבינים כבצלילות-הדעת
האמירים במעטה הכפור

עדת עורבים בלי חפזון המריאה
אילן ניער השלג ונעור.
לאט-לאט נפלו פתותי הצחור:
בשורת כוכב בדמדומי רקיע.

אזכר את צעדיך, עודך נער,
כל-כך קרובים: פסעת משמאלי
בתוך השלג בשדרה שלי
שעה קלה לפני סגירת השער

האין זה מוזר שעל אף האומללות והעליבות של אותה אהבה ישנה ו'לא-חשובה', היא מהדהדת עדיין בלבבות הקוראים? האם היא אמנם כל-כך לא חשובה? והלא היא בעצמה כתבה בפעם אחרת:

היום אני את ילדותך זוכרת
כאילו ראיתיה במו עין,
כאילו היא נמשכת בי עדין,
היא גזע לי, אהבתי - צמרת.

אני מרגיש קצת כמוה.

ידוע לי על שני ניסיונות להלחין שיר זה. אחד של "האחים והאחיות" (אף פעם לא שמעתי אותו), והשני של יסמין אבן שמופיע באוסף 'שרות לאה גולדברג', שעל אף האפקטים הקוליים המוזרים מביא ייצוג ראוי למילים.

בנימה יותר אישית (?), מתוך מרידה ב'בגרותי כבדת היום', אוסיף עוד שורה:
E benedetto ... le piaghe, ch'infino al cor mi vanno.

חידה למתקדמים - מה הקשר בין שורה זו בניב עתיק לבין השיר המצוטט לעיל?
מיקום: מעל קניגסברג (לפחות ברוחי)

Ballade des Dames du temps jadis / François Villon

2008-08-23T10:00:00.000+03:00

Dites-moi où, n'en quel pays,
Est Flora la belle Romaine,
Archipiades, ne Thaïs,
Qui fut sa cousine germaine,
Echo, parlant quant bruit on mène
Dessus rivière ou sur étang,
Qui beauté eut trop plus qu'humaine?
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan?

Où est la très sage Héloïs,
Pour qui fut châtré et puis moine
Pierre Esbaillart à Saint-Denis?
Pour son amour eut cette essoine.
Semblablement, où est la roine
Qui commanda que Buridan
Fût jeté en un sac en Seine?
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan?

La roine Blanche comme un lis
Qui chantait à voix de sirène,
Berthe au grand pied, Bietrix, Aliz,
Haramburgis qui tint le Maine,
Et Jeanne, la bonne Lorraine
Qu'Anglais brûlèrent à Rouen;
Où sont-ils, où, Vierge souvraine?
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan?

Prince, n'enquerrez de semaine
Où elles sont, ni de cet an,
Que ce refrain ne vous remaine:
Mais où sont les neiges d'antan?

Although my French is very weak, I find the original sublime, and the translations - well - less so.

A noteworthy translation by Dante Gabriel Rosetti, one of the leaders of the English pre-Raphaelite movement, may be found at this link. It is named 'The Ballad of the Dead Ladies', which sounds harsh to the modern ear, when compared with the original French 'Ballad of the Ladies of Times Past'.

In Heller's wonderful Catch 22, Yossarian's question "Where are the Snowdens of yesteryear" is of course an allusion to 'ce refrain'. A number of further translations may be found here.

Location: Over Avignon (at least in my mind)

Night Mail / Wystan Hugh Auden

2008-08-08T22:00:00.000+03:00

(Ed. 16/08/2008) - I watched a the complete Night Mail at YouTube, and of course Auden's poem appears at the movie's end, and not the beginning as I had previously written. Anyway, the movie itself is warmly recommended.

This is the Night Mail crossing the border,
Bringing the cheque and the postal order,
Letters for the rich, letters for the poor,
The shop at the corner and the girl next door.
Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb:
The gradient's against her, but she's on time.
Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder
Shovelling white steam over her shoulder,
Snorting noisily as she passes
Silent miles of wind-bent grasses.

Birds turn their heads as she approaches,
Stare from the bushes at her blank-faced coaches.
Sheep-dogs cannot turn her course;
They slumber on with paws across.
In the farm she passes no one wakes,
But a jug in the bedroom gently shakes.

Dawn freshens, the climb is done.
Down towards Glasgow she descends
Towards the steam tugs yelping down the glade of cranes,
Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces
Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen.
All Scotland waits for her:
In the dark glens, beside the pale-green sea lochs
Men long for news.

Letters of thanks, letters from banks,
Letters of joy from the girl and the boy,
Receipted bills and invitations
To inspect new stock or visit relations,
And applications for situations
And timid lovers' declarations
And gossip, gossip from all the nations,
News circumstantial, news financial,
Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in,
Letters with faces scrawled in the margin,
Letters from uncles, cousins, and aunts,
Letters to Scotland from the South of France,
Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands
Notes from overseas to Hebrides
Written on paper of every hue,
The pink, the violet, the white and the blue,
The chatty, the catty, the boring, adoring,
The cold and official and the heart's outpouring,
Clever, stupid, short and long,
The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong.

Thousands are still asleep
Dreaming of terrifying monsters,
Or of friendly tea beside the band at Cranston's or Crawford's:
Asleep in working Glasgow, asleep in well-set Edinburgh,
Asleep in granite Aberdeen,
They continue their dreams,
And shall wake soon and long for letters,
And none will hear the postman's knock
Without a quickening of the heart,
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

The poem was written by W. H. Auden in 1936 especially to accompany a documentary. This makes for a lovely example of 'high' art embedded in a 'popular' production. (This leads me to the thought that it is much more important for art to be relevant than to cater to anyone's particular snobbery).

Only the poem part of the film -

The complete Night Mail - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Mood: under full steam

מה עושות האיילות בלילות / לאה גולדברג

2008-07-25T22:00:00.001+03:00

מה עושות האילות בלילות
הן עוצמות את עינהן הגדולות
הן שולבות את רגליהן הקלות
ישנות האילות בלילות.

מי שומר על חלומן המתוק?
הירח הלבן מרחוק
הוא אל תוך הגן בבת צחוק
ואומר לכוס ותן: נום ושתוק

מה חולמות האילות בלילות?
הן חולמות כי הפילות הגדולות
שחקו אתן בג'ולים וגולות
ובכל בכל זכו האילות

מי מעיר אותן עם שחר משנתן?
לא הפיל ולא הקוף ולא התן
לא ארנבת, לא שכוי ולא שפן
כי אילת השחר חברתן
מעירה אותן בבוקר משנתן.

מוקדש לשני היעלים - הרומנטיקנים האחרונים בדורנו - שברחו היום מהספארי בחפשם קצת אהבה

Anthem for Doomed Youth / Wilfred Owen

2008-07-16T22:00:00.000+03:00

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.

No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.

The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Wilfred Owen had been an officer in the British Army during World War I. He had written this poem while on a medical leave, having had suffered from shell shock. Several months later, just a week before the end of the war, he was killed in action. By writing the few poems he had written, he outlived many men who have lived far longer than him.

I picked this poem not for the relevance of its details (after all, we're not in a war at this particular moment), but for its deep and touching humanity and love of life. Tonight, it is we that reside in the sad shires. The girls whose faces are white are our kin. It is our conundrum how to honor the legacy of the deceased.

Do not watch TV, nor listen to the radio. The wisdom is in your hearts.

Mood: elegiac

את תלכי בשדה / לאה גולדברג

2008-07-10T22:00:00.003+03:00

תיקון - 10 בנובמבר 2008 - המבצע של הקאבר המחודש על השיר הוא שלומי סרנגה ולא בועז שרעבי כפי שכתבתי קודם.

תרגמתי את השיר לאנגלית. ניתן למצוא אותו בקישור הזה.

האמנם עוד יבואו ימים בסליחה ובחסד,
ותלכי בשדה, ותלכי בו כהלך התם.
ומחשוף כף רגלך ילטף בעלי האספספת
או שלפי שיבולים ידקרוך ותמתק דקירתם.

או מטר ישיגך בעדת טיפותיו הדופקת
על כתפיך, חזך, צווארך וראשך רענן.
ותלכי בשדה הרטוב וירחב בך השקט
כאור בשולי הענן.

ונשמת את ריחו של התלם, נשום ורגוע
וראית את השמש, בראי השלולית הזהוב.
ופשוטים הדברים, וחיים, ומותר בם לנגוע
ומותר לאהוב, ומותר ומותר לאהוב.

את תלכי בשדה לבדך, לא נצרבת בלהט
השרפות בדרכים שסמרו מאימה ומדם.
וביושר לבב תהיי ענווה ונכנעת
כאחד הדשאים, כאחד האדם.

השיר נכתב במהלך מלחמת העולם השנייה, בתור טענה פואטית של לאה גולדברג בויכוח האומנותי בינה לבין נתן אלתרמן על האם מותר לעסוק בפרטי ובלירי 'בלהט השריפות' ובמיוחד לאור הידיעות על שואת יהודי אירופה. בעייני, לשיר זה יש רלוונטיות גדולה הרבה יותר דווקא מחוץ למשבצת הקטנה והמוגדרת של אותו ויכוח היסטורי. זהו שיר על כמיהה לגאולה אישית אל מול אכזריותו של העולם ואל מול יופיו, נושאים נצחיים (ושנמצאים במרכז עולמה הספרותי של לאה גולדברג).

השיר זכה ללחן נפלא מאת חיים ברקני. הוא הושר על-ידי חוה אלברשטיין (הגרסה המקורית והכי אהובה עליי), אסתר שמיר, עופרה חזה (הגרסה שמצורפת לרשומה זו), ולאחרונה על-ידי שלומי סרנגה (לדעתי באופן לא מוצלח - אני סבור כי הקול הנשי של השיר אינו ניתן לביצוע הולם על-ידי גבר).