Poem
Hagit Grossman
DEFECTIVE EVOLUTION
I feel evolution is defective.
A guitar didn’t bloom out of me where it should,
my parents immigrated to the wrong country,
Paris is too far.
I feel evolution is defective.
Fingers are too lazy to discover the gospel:
Romanticism jumping into a river and killing itself,
the green water demanding payment after death.
I feel the evolution of poetry books is defective.
Words dragged by their hair in the green weeds
lie splayed across the river,
blind and stuttering poems float on the water,
sail past rock’n’roll corpses,
intellectuals, poets and all the others
who were asked to major in prostitution
to suit the atmosphere.
I feel evolution is defective
on the seam between computer and typewriter,
my libido never awakens at the sight of a screen
while paper, in contrast, arouses me.
I feel evolution is defective.
Once I read poetry on stage with a band,
once I flew with the music.
Afterwards I couldn’t say a word except love,
afterwards I knew I’d touched the most beautiful thing I’d ever touched
and ever since I feel evolution is defective.
© Translation: 2014, Lisa Katz
NOITULOVE EVITCEFED
NOITULOVE EVITCEFED
אֲנִי חָשָׁה בְּהִתְפַּתְּחוּת לְקוּיָה
שֶׁלֹּא צָמְחָה לִי גִּיטָרָה אֵיפֹה שֶׁהָיְתָה אֲמוּרָה
שֶׁהוֹרַי הִגְּרוּ לָאָרֶץ הַלֹּא נְכוֹנָה
שֶׁפָּרִיז רְחוֹקָה מִדַּי.
אֲנִי חָשָׁה בְּהִתְפַּתְּחוּת לְקוּיָה
שֶׁהָאֶצְבָּעוֹת מִתְעַצְּלוֹת לְגַלּוֹת אֶת הַבְּשׂוֹרָה
שֶׁהָרוֹמַנְטִיקָה הִתְאַבְּדָה בִּקְפִיצָה לַנָּהָר
וְהַמַּיִם הַיְרֻקִּים דָּרְשׁוּ תַּשְׁלוּם אַחֲרֵי מוֹתָהּ.
אֲנִי חָשָׁה בְּהִתְפַּתְּחוּת לְקוּיָה שֶׁל סִפְרֵי הַשִּׁירָה
מִלִּים נִגְרָרוֹת בְּשׂעֲרוֹתֵיהֵן בָּעֵשֶׂב הַיָּרֹק
מֻשְׁלָכוֹת אֶל הַנָּהָר
שִׁירִים עִלְּגִים וְעִוְרִים צָפִים בַּמַּיִם
שָׁטִים לְצַד גְּוִיּוֹת רוֹקֶנְרוֹל,
אִינְטֶלֶקְטוּאָלִים, מְשׁוֹרְרִים וְכָל הָאֲחֵרִים
שֶׁהִתְבַּקְּשׁוּ לְהִתְמַקְצֵעַ בִּזְנוּת
לְהַתְאִים עַצְמָם לָאֲוִירָה.
אֲנִי חָשָׁה בְּהִתְפַּתְּחוּת לְקוּיָה
עַל קַו הַתֶּפֶר שֶׁבֵּין מַחְשֵׁב לִמְכוֹנַת כְּתִיבָה
הַלִּיבִּידוֹ שֶׁלִּי מֵעוֹלָם לֹא הִתְעוֹרֵר לְמַרְאֵה מָסָךְ
נְיָר לְעֻמַּת זֶה מֵעִיר אוֹתִי.
אֲנִי חָשָׁה בְּהִתְפַּתְּחוּת לְקוּיָה
פַּעַם קָרָאתִי שִׁירָה עִם תִּזְמֹרֶת עַל בָּמָה
פַּעַם הִצְלַחְתִּי לָעוּף עִם הַמּוּזִיקָה
אַחַר־כָּךְ לֹא הִצְלַחְתִּי לוֹמַר מִלָּה שֶׁאֵינָהּ אַהֲבָה
אַחַר־כָּךְ יָדַעְתִּי שֶׁנָּגַעְתִּי בַּדָּבָר הֲכִי יָפֶה שֶׁאֵדַע
וּמֵאָז אֲנִי חָשָׁה בְּהִתְפַּתְּחוּת לְקוּיָה.
© 2013, Yediot Aharonot
From: Ra\'ad ha-ear
Publisher: Yediot Aharonot, Tel Aviv
From: Ra\'ad ha-ear
Publisher: Yediot Aharonot, Tel Aviv
Poems
Poems of Hagit Grossman
Close
DEFECTIVE EVOLUTION
I feel evolution is defective.
A guitar didn’t bloom out of me where it should,
my parents immigrated to the wrong country,
Paris is too far.
I feel evolution is defective.
Fingers are too lazy to discover the gospel:
Romanticism jumping into a river and killing itself,
the green water demanding payment after death.
I feel the evolution of poetry books is defective.
Words dragged by their hair in the green weeds
lie splayed across the river,
blind and stuttering poems float on the water,
sail past rock’n’roll corpses,
intellectuals, poets and all the others
who were asked to major in prostitution
to suit the atmosphere.
I feel evolution is defective
on the seam between computer and typewriter,
my libido never awakens at the sight of a screen
while paper, in contrast, arouses me.
I feel evolution is defective.
Once I read poetry on stage with a band,
once I flew with the music.
Afterwards I couldn’t say a word except love,
afterwards I knew I’d touched the most beautiful thing I’d ever touched
and ever since I feel evolution is defective.
© 2014, Lisa Katz
From: Ra\'ad ha-ear
From: Ra\'ad ha-ear
DEFECTIVE EVOLUTION
I feel evolution is defective.
A guitar didn’t bloom out of me where it should,
my parents immigrated to the wrong country,
Paris is too far.
I feel evolution is defective.
Fingers are too lazy to discover the gospel:
Romanticism jumping into a river and killing itself,
the green water demanding payment after death.
I feel the evolution of poetry books is defective.
Words dragged by their hair in the green weeds
lie splayed across the river,
blind and stuttering poems float on the water,
sail past rock’n’roll corpses,
intellectuals, poets and all the others
who were asked to major in prostitution
to suit the atmosphere.
I feel evolution is defective
on the seam between computer and typewriter,
my libido never awakens at the sight of a screen
while paper, in contrast, arouses me.
I feel evolution is defective.
Once I read poetry on stage with a band,
once I flew with the music.
Afterwards I couldn’t say a word except love,
afterwards I knew I’d touched the most beautiful thing I’d ever touched
and ever since I feel evolution is defective.
© 2014, Lisa Katz
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