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Poem

Nano Shabtai

GOLDBERG VARIATIONS
BACKGROUND FOR A PORTRAIT OF MY FATHER

Not quiet, jumpy, not proud
a little embarrassed – my father
without tears, smiling, charming and evasive,
always asks about my nerves.

A little surprised, annoyed, when I called
one night and said such and such . . .
consoling me a little only with words because once
you were my father
but I’m still me.

More or less remembering
my childhood puzzle unsolved:
now I come, a grown daughter
bearing my fake joy.

Yes, I’m exhausted and ask how you are.

Sometimes inside my nights with my Arab lover . . .
but mostly I cry when I’m alone
and I won’t whisper “Oh Dad!” to myself
nights when I’m drunk I’ll stare at a toe
proof that it’s real
(we have
the same feet
father and me)

Today I’m tired.
I lie in bed.
I’m reading a poem by Lea Goldberg.
And you?
Won’t know –
the one who left me
was not more dear to me
than him
asking no doubt in our Tuesday meeting:
“Who?”

וריאציית גולדברג – רקע לתמונת אבי

וריאציית גולדברג – רקע לתמונת אבי

לא שליו, עצבני, לא גאה
אבי -- קצת נבוך על שאתה
בלי דמעה, בחיוך, חינני חמקני
.ותמיד שואל לעצבוני

קצת תמהת, רגזת, כשטלפנתי אליך
...לילה אחד ואמרתי ככה
ומעט שיכולת ניחמת בדבריך
רק מפני שהיית פעם
אבי
.ואני עודני אני

ופחות או יותר אתה בטח זוכר
:אך את סוד ילדותי נפשך לא פותרת
עת אבוא אליך, הבת הבוגרת
.ואביא לאבי את זיוף שמחתה

.כן, אבוא רצוצה ואשאל לשלומך

...לפעמים בערבי מאהב ערבי
אך לרוב את בכיי אבכה בחיקי
!"לא אלחש לעצמי – "הו, אבי
ובלילות שיכרותי, אז אבהה בבהוני
הוכחה לכך שזה לא דמיוני 
יש לנו אותן כפות רגליים)
(אבא ולי 

.היום אני לאה
.אני שוכבת במיטה
."אני קוראת ספר, "זוטא
?ואתה

-- לא תדע
זה שעזבני
לא היה לי
יקר ממך
:ובפגישה ביום שלישי בטח תשאל אותי
"?מי "
 

Close

GOLDBERG VARIATIONS
BACKGROUND FOR A PORTRAIT OF MY FATHER

Not quiet, jumpy, not proud
a little embarrassed – my father
without tears, smiling, charming and evasive,
always asks about my nerves.

A little surprised, annoyed, when I called
one night and said such and such . . .
consoling me a little only with words because once
you were my father
but I’m still me.

More or less remembering
my childhood puzzle unsolved:
now I come, a grown daughter
bearing my fake joy.

Yes, I’m exhausted and ask how you are.

Sometimes inside my nights with my Arab lover . . .
but mostly I cry when I’m alone
and I won’t whisper “Oh Dad!” to myself
nights when I’m drunk I’ll stare at a toe
proof that it’s real
(we have
the same feet
father and me)

Today I’m tired.
I lie in bed.
I’m reading a poem by Lea Goldberg.
And you?
Won’t know –
the one who left me
was not more dear to me
than him
asking no doubt in our Tuesday meeting:
“Who?”

GOLDBERG VARIATIONS
BACKGROUND FOR A PORTRAIT OF MY FATHER

Not quiet, jumpy, not proud
a little embarrassed – my father
without tears, smiling, charming and evasive,
always asks about my nerves.

A little surprised, annoyed, when I called
one night and said such and such . . .
consoling me a little only with words because once
you were my father
but I’m still me.

More or less remembering
my childhood puzzle unsolved:
now I come, a grown daughter
bearing my fake joy.

Yes, I’m exhausted and ask how you are.

Sometimes inside my nights with my Arab lover . . .
but mostly I cry when I’m alone
and I won’t whisper “Oh Dad!” to myself
nights when I’m drunk I’ll stare at a toe
proof that it’s real
(we have
the same feet
father and me)

Today I’m tired.
I lie in bed.
I’m reading a poem by Lea Goldberg.
And you?
Won’t know –
the one who left me
was not more dear to me
than him
asking no doubt in our Tuesday meeting:
“Who?”
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
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