Poem
Hagit Grossman
PERMANENCE
There was always a poem at the end of the notebook
that put him back in his place
but in order to write it
he had to forget his name
the look of his face in the mirror
everything that sealed his fate he abandoned
like a pillow shed of its feathers
through his window he jumped toward the poem
and ambushed himself under cover of the night
that appears when it’s day
and became a winged cat
a sharp-toothed owl
and slashed his belly to give birth to his words
only because it was free
and he had no money.
© Translation: 2014, Daniel Oz
קביעוּת
קביעוּת
תָּמִיד הָיָה שִׁיר בְּסוֹף הַמַּחְבֶּרֶת
שֶׁהֵשִׁיב אוֹתוֹ אֶל מְקוֹמוֹ
אַךְ כְּדֵי לִכְתֹּב אוֹתוֹ
הָיָה עָלָיו לִשְׁכֹּחַ אֶת שְׁמוֹ
אֶת מַרְאֵה פָּנָיו בָּרְאִי
אֶת כָּל הֶחָתוּם עַל גּוֹרָלוֹ עָזַב
כְּכָרִית שֶׁהִשִּׁילָה נוֹצוֹתֶיהָ
מִבַּעַד לְחַלּוֹנוֹ קָפַץ אֶל הַשִּׁיר
וְאָרַב לְעַצְמוֹ בַּחֲשָׁאֵי הַלַּיְלָה
הַמּוֹפִיעַ לְעֵת יוֹם
וְהָיָה לְחָתוּל מְכֻנָּף
יַנְשׁוּף בַּעַל שִׁנַּיִם מֻשְׁחָזוֹת
וְרִטֵּשׁ אֶת בִּטְנוֹ לָלֶדֶת מִלּוֹתָיו
רַק בִּגְלַל שֶׁזֶּה הָיָה בְּחִנָּם
וְלֹא הָיָה לוֹ כֶּסֶף.
© 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
PERMANENCE
There was always a poem at the end of the notebook
that put him back in his place
but in order to write it
he had to forget his name
the look of his face in the mirror
everything that sealed his fate he abandoned
like a pillow shed of its feathers
through his window he jumped toward the poem
and ambushed himself under cover of the night
that appears when it’s day
and became a winged cat
a sharp-toothed owl
and slashed his belly to give birth to his words
only because it was free
and he had no money.
© 2014, Daniel Oz
From: Ra\'ad ha-ear
From: Ra\'ad ha-ear
PERMANENCE
There was always a poem at the end of the notebook
that put him back in his place
but in order to write it
he had to forget his name
the look of his face in the mirror
everything that sealed his fate he abandoned
like a pillow shed of its feathers
through his window he jumped toward the poem
and ambushed himself under cover of the night
that appears when it’s day
and became a winged cat
a sharp-toothed owl
and slashed his belly to give birth to his words
only because it was free
and he had no money.
© 2014, Daniel Oz
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