Poem
Shulamit Apfel
IT CAN’T BE COMPARED TO SIBERIA
I squeeze a lemon
continue to complain
and drink another tea
this poem is killing me
I’ve been sitting on it since morning
my feet are frozen
I know this can’t be compared to Siberia
the skies hang low there when it snows
but I’m still cold
I haven’t spoken to anyone today
I haven’t returned to the story I promised to
nothing in it didn’t happen
and I’m not going to let it go
enough death has corresponded with me
in the third person. Another failure won’t get in my way.
© Translation: 2013, Lisa Katz
אי אפשר להשוות את זה לסיביר
אי אפשר להשוות את זה לסיביר
סוֹחֶטֶת לִימוֹן
מַמְשִׁיכָה לְהִתְלוֹנֵן
וְשׁוֹתָה עוֹד תֵּה
הַשִּׁיר הַזֶּה הָרַג אוֹתִי
אֲנִי יוֹשֶׁבֶת עָלָיו מֵהַבֹּקֶר
כְבָר קָפְאוּ אֶצְלִי כַּפּוֹת הָרַגְלַיִם
אֲנִי יוֹדַעַת שֶׁאִי אֶפְשָׁר לְהַשְׁווֹת אֶת זֶה לְסִיבִּיר
הַשָּׁמַיִם נְמוּכִים כְּשֶׁהַשֶׁלֶג יּוֹרֵד
וַעֲדַיִן קַר לִי
לֹא דִּבַּרְתִּי עִם אִישׁ הַיּוֹם
אֶל הַסִּפּוּר שֶׁהִבְטַחְתִּי לַחְזֹר לֹא חָזַרְתִּי
לֹא קוֹרֶה בּוֹ דָּבָר שֶׁלֹּא קָרָה
וַאֲנִי לֹא הוֹלֶכֶת לְוַתֵּר עָלָיו
כְּבָר רָאִיתִי בְּחַיַּי דַּי מָוֶת שֶׁהִתְכַּתֵּב אִתִּי
בְּגוּף שְׁלִישִׁי. עוֹד כִּשָּׁלוֹן לֹא יַרְפֶּה אֶת יָדִי
© 2012, Shulamit Apfel
From: Pahot me-emet ain ta’am liktov
Publisher: Safra, Tel Aviv
From: Pahot me-emet ain ta’am liktov
Publisher: Safra, Tel Aviv
Poems
Poems of Shulamit Apfel
Close
IT CAN’T BE COMPARED TO SIBERIA
I squeeze a lemon
continue to complain
and drink another tea
this poem is killing me
I’ve been sitting on it since morning
my feet are frozen
I know this can’t be compared to Siberia
the skies hang low there when it snows
but I’m still cold
I haven’t spoken to anyone today
I haven’t returned to the story I promised to
nothing in it didn’t happen
and I’m not going to let it go
enough death has corresponded with me
in the third person. Another failure won’t get in my way.
© 2013, Lisa Katz
From: Pahot me-emet ain ta’am liktov
From: Pahot me-emet ain ta’am liktov
IT CAN’T BE COMPARED TO SIBERIA
I squeeze a lemon
continue to complain
and drink another tea
this poem is killing me
I’ve been sitting on it since morning
my feet are frozen
I know this can’t be compared to Siberia
the skies hang low there when it snows
but I’m still cold
I haven’t spoken to anyone today
I haven’t returned to the story I promised to
nothing in it didn’t happen
and I’m not going to let it go
enough death has corresponded with me
in the third person. Another failure won’t get in my way.
© 2013, Lisa Katz
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