Category Archives: Poetry?

Etrezek ar bezioù

Avot Yeshouroun, an anv kemeret gant Yehiel Perlmutter e 1948, hervez ar wiki, ac’h embannas ar barzhoneg-se e journal Haaretz, 23 mae 1952. An degemer a oa fall, kleiz ha dehoù. Met evel ma lavaras: “Al lennegezh hebraek a gasas ac’hanomp da Zion, hag e oa dleet dezhi lavarout ar wirionez diwar biv a veve er bro, n’eo ket lavarout e oa goullo.” (M. Gluzman, Politics of canonicity, 2003, 141)

יוֹם אֶחָד לָאֲדָמָה
,לָעֲמֻקָּה מִן פָאלַאסְטִין
,מִן פַאלֶסְטִינָה הוֹךְ הוֹךְ
.מִן כְּנַעַן־פֶלְלָחִין

יוֹם אֶחָד לָאֲדָמָה
.הַמְּלֵאָה אֶת הַכַּדִּים
,וְקָשָׁה הִיא וּמְאָדָּמָה
.חַמָּה הִיא וְגִידִים

אֶת עֶרְיָתָהּ אֵינָהּ מַגֶּדֶת
.לְרוֹכְבֵי עַל עֲרָיוֹת
וְאֵינָהּ מַגֶּדֶת לְרוֹכְבֵי
;עַל אֲתֹנוֹת צְחוֹרוֹת

וְעַל אֵלֶּה שֶׁקָּרְסוּ לַפֶּרֶךָ
,עִם צַלְצֶלֶת אֹרְחוֹת
עַל אֵלֶּה שֶׁעָמְדוּ בַּפֶּרֶא
– כְּאָח וְאָחוֹת

.הֲלֹא יִשְׁאַל הַלָּה לְפֶלְלָחוֹ
.הַלָּה תָּמִיד יִדְרֹשׁ לַחֵלֶךְ
.הָיָה זֶה פֹּה יַד מַלְאָכוֹ
.יַד הַלָּה כְּיַד הַמֶּלֶךְ

– וַיְהִי הַלָּה טוֹפֵשׁ עָלָיו דַּבֶּשֶׁת
..וְזֶה גּוֹמֵל עָמָל עַל הַשַּׁבֶּשֶׁת
– הָיוֹ יִהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר נוֹשֵׂא שַׁבֶּשֶׁת
..יֵצֶר הִיא שֶׁל אֵיזֶה בֶּעשְׁ”ט

שֶׁהִגִּיעָנוּ אֶל הַחוֹף בִּגְ’יַאנִיקוֹלוֹ
– וֶהֱקִימָנוּ עַל הַסַּף סַפָּן עַרְבִי
,אֶזְרֹעוֹתָיו שְׁלֻחָנִיּוֹת וְקִנְצֵי קוֹל לוֹ
..וְהַיָּדַיִם – מִבֵּית אָבִי

,וְהִגַּעְנוּ, וְלָאָרֶץ עֲרִירִי
,וְלָאָרֶץ אֵין פֹּה אֵם, וִיהִי מָה
,וַתֹּאמֶר פַאטְמָה “מַהֲרָה, נַעֲרִי
.אֱמֹר לָהּ ‘אִמָּא'”

.וָאוֹמַר: “דִּינָר לִי מֵאִמִּי לַעֲנִיֵּי עִירִי
.אַךְ רָעַבְתִּי. כִּי עָנִיתִי”.. – וָאוֹמַר
.וַתֹּרֶד אֶת כַּדָּהּ: “שְׁתֵה, נַעֲרִי
“..לְךָ הוּא הַדִּינָר

!הַזָּהוּב פָּרַטְתִּי, אָבִי מִכָּל הַחַאנִים”
.בְּדִינַר אִמִּי קָנִיתִי לִי בְּרַאנְזִ’ינֶס
.הִתְהַלַּכְתִּי פֹּה בֵּין וָאדִיּוֹת, חוֹלוֹת וְרָמַת-גַּן’יִם
.בִּדְמֵי אִמִּי קָנִיתִי לִי סַארְדִינֶס

?שֶׁהֶחֱיָנוּ הַסַּאְרדִינֶס! מִי מִכֶּם דִּינָר עִלָּע
?!מִסַּאְרדִינֶס מִי עוֹשֶׂה בֻּבָּה
.יָפוֹ וְדַיָּגֶיהָ! שֶׁאֵין רֶשֶׁת אֶלָּא לָהּ
.לַבֹּקֶר וְיֹאכְלוּ, וְהַדִּינָר חֻבָּם

.אַבְהוּנָא שֶׁלִּי, הַבֵּט עַל בְּכוֹר הַחַאנִים
.בְּחַרְתָּנִי בְּכוֹר עָנִי מֵאֵין כָּמוֹהוּ עוֹד
?שׁוּר עַל מַעֲשַׂי – יָפִים לְמַה נִּשְׁתַּנָּה
.”וַאֲנִי שִׁמְךָ קָנִיתִי לְעָבְדְךָ מְאֹד

..פְּנֵי אָבִינוּ הָיוּ פֹּה
..אָז הָיִינוּ עֹד בָּנִים
.עַתָּה אָבִינוּ בְּמַחֲפוֹא
?אֵיךְ נְקַבֵּל פָּנִים

– הֲלֹא תִשְׁאֲלִי לְעַמְּךָ-מַלְאָכוֹ
.וְהוּא הָלַךְ פָאלַאסְטִין
,הוּא הָלַךְ פֹּה אֶל כּוּכוֹ
..אֶל הַפְּלֵתִי

וְעַל כָּךְ וְעַל דַּרְכּוֹ
– כָּל מַעֲשֵׂהוּ בַּכּוּכִים
,הֲלֹא, שׁוֹשַׁנַּת יַעֲקֹב
.תִּשְׁאֲלִי אֶת הַחוֹחִים

תִּשְׁאֲלִי פֹּה בַּפְּרָצִים
,עַל קַבְּצַן הַסֻּלְיוֹת
עַל קִבּוּץ הַקִּבּוּצִים
;וְעַל קִבּוּץ הַגָּלֻיּוֹת

-וַתִשְׁאֲלִי אֶל נֵס
תְּנוּעַת-חִבַּת-צִיּוֹן
אֶת עַרְבִיֵּי הַנֵּס
;שֶׁנָּסוּ בְּלָצוֹן

– וְתִשְׁאֲלִי אֶת פִּי
:עַל שְׁתַּיִם הוּא הַדִּין
צַר לִי עַל טַפִּי
;וְצַר עַל דִּין וָדִין

-וְתִשְׁאֲלִי אֶל נֵס
תְּנוּעַת-חֹבְבֵי-שִׂיחָה
עַל עַרְבִיֵּי הַנֵּס
.”אֲשֶׁר “קָבְרוּ בְּדִיחָה

קָבְרוּ – עַד הֲקִיצוֹ
.שֶׁל כַּד הַמַּטְבְּעוֹת
,יְצַלְצְלוּ, לְעֵת מְצוֹא
..יָמִים, שָׁנִים, מֵאוֹת

עַד עָמֹד יַעֲמֹד הַלָּה
– וְסַב הוּא בְּאִישׁוֹן
וְאֲדָמָה כַּלָּהּ
..שׁוֹאֶגֶת יוֹם רִאשׁוֹן

,בַּעֲמָקַיִךְ, שׁוֹשַׁנַּת
;לו שׁוֹשַׁנָּה לְפֶלְלָחִים
מִי שׁוֹשַׁנָּה – וְלוֹ עַל מִנַעַת
.פֶּסַע אֶל כּוּכִים

,פֶלְלָחִין-בַּדְוִין, הָאָבוֹת
— כְּדוֹר מִדְבָּר לְדוֹר יוֹרֵשׁ
.צִוּוּנוּ פִּתָּה לֶאֱפוֹת
.נָשֵׂם לַחְמָם לְחֻךְ הָאֵשׁ

,וְאַבָּא-אִמָּא, מִן מַלְקֹח
— אֵשׁ-אֵל-רַבְרַבָּא מִלְקָח
צִוּוּנוּ יַהַנְדֶּס לֹא לִשְׁכֹּחַ
.וְעַל פּוֹילִין לֹא לִשְׁכָּח

אֲדָמָה הִיא בַּת בְּלִיַּעַל.
– גַּם אַבְרָהָם גַּם אִיבְּרָהִים
שָׂרָה עִמּוֹ הַנַּעַר
..וְשָֹרָה מִן הַמִּצְרִים

וְהָאֲדָמָה וְהָאֲדָמָה
.מְבַלְּעָה אֶת הַכַּדִּים
– הִיא חַמָּה, הִיא מְאָדָּמָה
.וְהִיא גִּידִים לַמַּגִּידִים

הִיא חַמָּה וּמְאָדָּמָה
.כְּפִתְחָהּ שֶׁל הַיּוֹלֶדֶת
מְלֵאָה לָהּ אֶרֶץ אֲדָמָה
.וְלֹא נוֹעֶדֶת

Un deiz bennak d’an douar,
donoc’h eget Falastîn,
eget “Palestina Ohé Ohé,”
eget Canaan-*fellahin*.

Un deiz bennak d’an douar,
a leunia ar bezioù (urnoù).
Ha kalet hi hag o ruziañ,
tomm eo ha stir dezhi.

Na gont ket he noazhded
da varc’hourion war lionoù.
Ha na gont ket d’ar varch’ourion
war azenezed gwenn;

Ha war ar re a oa friket d’ar galeoù
gant tinterezh an hentoù, (?)
war ar re a oa en o sav gouez
evel breur ha c’hoar —

Chom a raio hennezh hep goull diwar e *fellah*
Chom a raio hep klask bepred diwar ar gwan.
Amañ e oa dorn ec’h ael.
Dorn hennezh evel dorn ur roue.

Hag e oa hennezh …. —
Hag eñ da zigoll labour war …. fardaj?
Forzh petra a dougo ar …. fardaj? —
Tech ur Besht bennak eo …

E errujomp d’an aod war Gianicolo
Hag ur martolod arabek a laka ac’hanomp war an treuz —
E vrec’h astennet hag ur vouezh munut dezhañ,
hag an daouarn — eus ti va zad …

Hag ec’h errujomp, ha d’ur vro hañvesk,
ha mamm ebet d’ar vro, ha petra,
hag e lavaras Fatma: “Buan, va bugel,
lavar dezhi ‘Mamm’.”

Hag e lavarañ, “Bezañ m’eus un dinar eus mamm, evit ar beorion-gêr,
met naon m’eus. Rak paour on aet”, hag e lavarañ —
hag e tiskenn he foud (karafenn?), “Ev, va bugel,
evidout eo an dinar”…

“Eskemmet m’eus an aour, va zad eus an oll *Khanoù* !
Prenet m’eus *branjines* gant dinar va mamm.
Baleet m’eus amañ etre ar wadioù, traezhioù hag Ramat-Gan’où.
Gant arc’hant-gwad va mamm m’eus prenet *sardinez*

Pegen buhez gant ar *sardinez*! Piv ouzhoc’h a lonka un dinar?
Gant *sardinez* piv a ra ur verc’hodenn!?
Jaffa hag he fesketourion! Roued ebet met hec’h hini.
Diouzh ar beure hag e debrjont, hag an dinar enno.

Va zadig, sell ouzh henañ ar Khanoù.
Va dibabet t’eus an henañ kaezh n’eus hini bet eveltañ ken.
Arvest ouzh va oberioù — brav perak eo chañchet?
Ha me prenet m’eus da anv evit servij ac’hanout meur.”

Amañ oa dremm hon tad …
neuze e oamp maboù c’hoazh …
Bremañ emañ kuzh hon tad.
Penaos e degerimp dremm [e tigorimp da…]

Goul e ri war-lerc’h da dud, na ri ket — ec’h ael —
hag eñ kaezhiad Palestin.
Aet eo amañ d’e c’hav,
d’ar Pelêthi…

Hag war se ha war e stumm
hag an oll a reas er kavoù —
sur awal’ch, rozenn Yaqob,
goul gant an dreiz.

Goul amañ en odeoù
diwar ar c’hlasker soulioù,
diwar kibbutz ar c’hibboutzoù,
ha diwar dastumad an harluidi;

Ha goul diwar (el…) burzhud
luskad ar c’harourion-Zion
an Arabed diwar burzhud
e tec’hjont evit fenn;

Ha goul ganiñ —
barnet vez diwar daou dest:
keuz ennon diwar va bugale
ha keuz war varn ha barn:

Ha goul diwar (el) burzhud
luskad karourion kaoze (diviz?)
War goust an Arabed ar burzhud
inti a “douarjont ar farsadenn”.

Douarjont — betek fin (dihun?)
poud ar pezhioù.
a sono, pa vo ar c’houlz
deizhioù, bloavezhioù, kanteriadoù….

Betek e vo en e sav hennezh
hag e tro e kreizh an nozh [I’m following Gluzman]
hag an douar danvez-pried
a ruoc’ha an deiz kentañ….

en ho traoniennoù, rozenn ar …,
Ha ma oa roz gant ar fallahin;
Piv zo ur rozenn — ha ma n’eo ket evit diwall
tremen war kavoù.

Fallahin bedouin, an tadoù
— evel rumm an deserz da rumm a herez —
a c’hourmenna deomp poazhañ pita.
Lakaat a rimp o bara e kreiz an tan.

Ha tad-mamm, diouzh preizh,
tan doue foeltr diouzh preizh —
a c’hourmenna deomp chom hep ankounac’haat Yahndas.
hep ankounac’haat Pologn.

Merc’h Bli’al (an diaoul) eo douar
Abraham hag Ibrahim
ar c’hrennard a stourma gantañ
Ha Sarah eus ar Ejiptianed….

Hag and douar hag an douar
a lonk ar c’havoù (bezioù).
Tomm eo, ruziañ a ra —
Stir eo d’ar c’honterioù.

Tomm eo ha ruziañ a ra
evel digoradur an hini a gan.
Leun eo ar bro gant douar
hag hep planedenn.

Ur barzhoneg digant Fogel

Niverenn 4 eus levr לפני השער האפל pe Dirak an nor teñval, adembannet e David Fogel Poems, aozet gant A. Komem (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz hameuchad, 1998. Hebraeg).

גְּדוֹלִים כִּבְרֵכוֹת וּשְׁקוּפִים
,הָיוּ הַיָּמִים
.כִּי הָיִינוּ יְלָדִים

הַרְבֵּה יָשַׁבְנוּ עַל שְׂפָתָם
,וַנִשְׂחָק
אוֹ לִשְׂחוֹת יָרַדְנוּ
בַּמַּיִם הֵצָּחִים

אַף פְּעָמִים בָּכִינוּ
,אֶל סִנַּר אִמֵּנוּ
כִּי חַיִּים מָלֵאנוּ
.כְּכַדֵּי הַיָּיִן

Bras ha splann evel poulloù
e oa an devezhioù
pa oamp bugalez.

Alies e azezjomp war o ribl
Hag e c’hwerzhjomp,
pe da neuñviñ e tiskennjomp
en dourioù sklaer.

Wechoù zoken e oueljomp
war-du davañjer hor mammoù,
pa hor boa karget buhezioù
evel ar podoù gwin.

Pontoù ar bed

Dindan an oabl gris, e gortoz kormoraned ha gwennili
ar baradoù avel ha glav daouganet evit fenozh.
Emaont war dossen maen Natural Bridges, evel amphorennoù kozh, lufr ha gweñv.
Bagadoù evned mor, uhel, a glask ar gwasked aboe ar beure.
Glas gwer eo ar mor, lent ar gwagennoù.
En em gejañ a raio hirie da nozh neizhioù dastumet pell, dreist d’hon bed,
Hon c’halonoù a vo glannaet gant tonnoù, pouner awalc’h da freuzañ ar reier.
Stouet eo an aod, pladennoù maen-raz prest da c’hoari.
Pik! Tiritariii… e-pad ma debr e verenn ur familh, hec’h-unan, e-kreiz an draezhenn divent.

Amen

Short commentary on Amichai’s poem I posted yesterday:

What one can imagine to be a billet-doux by the woman has turned into a question and a prayer. The street on a summer evening is now the western wall, remainder of the destroyed temple, where petitioners slip small folded scraps of paper into the cracks of the stones. The locked door is this impenetrable wall which separates the world into the two irreconcilable spheres of the living and the dead. A message in the form of a reminder, command or objurgation already sticks to it, though rolled and locked, not folded: the mezuzah. The faces of the woman or man are invisible to the urban moses and poet who has abandoned a certain religious life but still climbs daily sinais in the hope of catching a glimpse of a reality beyond words, yet never sees face to face, not even what is written on the piece of paper. What is written: scripture, the writings, or inscriptions on tombstones, to be revealed later in an oral torah of sorts, conversations, reminiscences and poems, and to be enshrined or entombed on doors, hands, and foreheads, inside wallets or diaries and history books.
Entombed lives are marked by erect stones that erode, fracture, or are broken, even desecrated. The single word “I believe” is enough to remember them. An amen of endurance and permanence. From within that firm assurance and singular ground of trust in a promise, before that inscribed mute stone, the poet writes on the paper laid out flat on his table. No matter where he turns, the words are carved deep in the heart, echoes and reminders of what was and cannot return except in this enduring acceptance of a language, a history, a people. From within that single declaration of fierce trust and humble acceptance, a soft song rises. Acceptance of a will, it doesn’t say whose but I make it mine. Everything passes, humans and their languages and inscribed stones. New languages come into being and resurrect from the dead, wholly other, yet heirs to promise and trust. New tongues, new lips that build an eternity with love letters.

Prayers remain forever

I’ve often been moved by Yehuda Amichai’s poems. Here is the unpointed text of Yehuda Amichai’s poem Gods change, the prayers remain forever, from the web (for instance here). My translation below. There are many translations of this and other poems of Amichai. For instance Open closed open: Poems, translation by Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld (Harcourt, 2000), which I cannot see at my local bookstore’s website (Bookshop Santa Cruz) but is available at other places. The website I just indicated lists The selected poetry of Yehuda Amichai in paperback from UC Press (1996), which features translations by Chana Bloch and Stephen Mitchell, only with English text as far as I can see.

אלים מתחלפים, התפלות נשארות לעד

,ראיתי ברחוב, בערב קיץ
ראיתי אשה שכתבה מלים
,על ניר פרוש על דלת עץ נעולה
.וקפלה ושמה בין דלת למזוזה והלכה לה
ולא ראיתי את פניה ולא את פני האיש
שיקרא את הכתוב
.ולא ראיתי את המלים
“,על שלחני מונחת אבן שכתוב עליה ”אמן
שבר מצבה, שארית מבית קברות יהודי
.שנחרב לפני כאלף שנים, בעיר שבה נולדתי
מלה אחת ”אמן“ חרותה עמוק באבן
,אמן קשה וסופי על כל שהיה ולא ישוב
,אמן רך ומזמר כמו בתפלה
.אמן ואמן, וכן יהי רצון
,מצבות נשברות, מלים חולפות, מלים נשכחות
,שפתים שאמרו אותן הפכו עפר
,שפות מתות כבני אדם
,שפות אחרות קמות לתחייה
,אלים בשמים משתנים, אלים מתחלפים
.התפלות נשארות לעד

Gods change, the prayers remain forever

I saw in the street, one summer evening,
I saw a woman who wrote words
on paper laid out on a locked wooden door,
folded it and put it between the door and the mezuzah and went off.
And I didn’t see her face or the face of the man
who would read the jotting
and I didn’t see the words.
On my table a stone rests on which is written “Amen”,
a tombstone’s fragment, remainder from a Jewish cemetery
that was destroyed a thousand years ago, in the city of my birth.
One word “Amen” carved deep in the stone
A hard and final amen on all that was and will not return,
A soft and singing amen like in a prayer,
Amen and amen, and may it be —‘s will.
Tombstones shatter, words change, words get forgotten,
Lips which said them turned to dust,
Tongues die like human beings,
Other tongues rise and resurrect,
Heavenly gods change, gods alternate,
The prayers remain forever.