Poem
Rivka Miriam
EVERYTHING THAT WAS FLESH OF YOUR FLESH, SAYS JONATHAN
EVERYTHING THAT WAS FLESH OF YOUR FLESH, SAYS JONATHANEverything that was flesh of your flesh, says Jonathan
is about to drop off you, like a shell –
detach and come off, like a hymen, like the scab of a wound
like snakeskin.
Every inside is peeling off, says Jonathan, becoming outside
to make space for a new inside.
A boy peels off to become a youth. A caterpillar to become a cocoon.
The cocoon will be a moth.
Even I, who is moving inside you
will drop off and fall.
Like ancient skin, slowly I will wither and dry up.
But I won’t forget you. I’ll sneak in, in disguise, I’ll become a hat
in your closet, a coat
a pearl brooch
that you’ll be able to pin on your lapel.
© Translation: 2009, Linda Zisquit
From: These Mountains
Publisher: Toby Press, London, 2009
From: These Mountains
Publisher: Toby Press, London, 2009
EVERYTHING THAT WAS FLESH OF YOUR FLESH, SAYS JONATHAN
כל מה שהיה בשר מבשרך, אומר יונתן
כָּל מַה שֶּׁהָיָה בָּשָׂר מִבְּשָׂרֵךְ, אוֹמֵר יוֹנָתָן
סוֹפוֹ לִנְשֹׁר מִמֵּךְ כִּקְלִפָּה –
לְהִנָּתֵק וְלִנְשֹׁר, כִּקְרוּם שֶׁל בְּתוּלִין, כְּגֶלֶד שֶׁל פֶּצַע
כְּמוֹ נֶשֶׁל נָחָשׁ.
כָּל פְּנִים מִתְקַלֵּף, אוֹמֵר יוֹנָתָן, הוֹפֵךְ לִהְיוֹת חוּץ
שֶׁמָּקוֹם יִתְפַּנֶּה, הוּא אוֹמֵר, לִפְנִים חָדָשׁ.
יֶלֶד מִתְקַלֵּף לִהְיוֹת נַעַר. זַחַל לִהְיוֹת גֹּלֶם. הַגֹּלֶם יִהְיֶה עָשׁ.
גַּם אֲנִי, שֶׁבְּתוֹכֵךְ מִתְנוֹעֵעַ
אֶנְשֹׁר וְאֶפֹּל.
כְּמוֹ קְרוּם עַתִּיק, לְאִטִּי אֶצְטַמֵּק וְאִיבַשׁ.
אַךְ לֹא אֶשְׁכְּחֵךְ. אֶתְגַּנֵּב, אֶתְחַפֵּשׂ, אֶהֱיֶה בַּאֲרוֹנֵךְ
כּוֹבַע, מְעִיל
אוֹ סִכָּה שֶׁל פְּנִינִים
שֶׁתּוּכְלִי לַעֲנֹד עַל הַדָּשׁ.
כָּל מַה שֶּׁהָיָה בָּשָׂר מִבְּשָׂרֵךְ, אוֹמֵר יוֹנָתָן
סוֹפוֹ לִנְשֹׁר מִמֵּךְ כִּקְלִפָּה –
לְהִנָּתֵק וְלִנְשֹׁר, כִּקְרוּם שֶׁל בְּתוּלִין, כְּגֶלֶד שֶׁל פֶּצַע
כְּמוֹ נֶשֶׁל נָחָשׁ.
כָּל פְּנִים מִתְקַלֵּף, אוֹמֵר יוֹנָתָן, הוֹפֵךְ לִהְיוֹת חוּץ
שֶׁמָּקוֹם יִתְפַּנֶּה, הוּא אוֹמֵר, לִפְנִים חָדָשׁ.
יֶלֶד מִתְקַלֵּף לִהְיוֹת נַעַר. זַחַל לִהְיוֹת גֹּלֶם. הַגֹּלֶם יִהְיֶה עָשׁ.
גַּם אֲנִי, שֶׁבְּתוֹכֵךְ מִתְנוֹעֵעַ
אֶנְשֹׁר וְאֶפֹּל.
כְּמוֹ קְרוּם עַתִּיק, לְאִטִּי אֶצְטַמֵּק וְאִיבַשׁ.
אַךְ לֹא אֶשְׁכְּחֵךְ. אֶתְגַּנֵּב, אֶתְחַפֵּשׂ, אֶהֱיֶה בַּאֲרוֹנֵךְ
כּוֹבַע, מְעִיל
אוֹ סִכָּה שֶׁל פְּנִינִים
שֶׁתּוּכְלִי לַעֲנֹד עַל הַדָּשׁ.
© 2007, Rivka Miriam
From: Avi zivani lo lamoot (My father commanded me not to die)
Publisher: Carmel, Jerusalem
From: Avi zivani lo lamoot (My father commanded me not to die)
Publisher: Carmel, Jerusalem
Poems
Poems of Rivka Miriam
Close
EVERYTHING THAT WAS FLESH OF YOUR FLESH, SAYS JONATHAN
EVERYTHING THAT WAS FLESH OF YOUR FLESH, SAYS JONATHANEverything that was flesh of your flesh, says Jonathan
is about to drop off you, like a shell –
detach and come off, like a hymen, like the scab of a wound
like snakeskin.
Every inside is peeling off, says Jonathan, becoming outside
to make space for a new inside.
A boy peels off to become a youth. A caterpillar to become a cocoon.
The cocoon will be a moth.
Even I, who is moving inside you
will drop off and fall.
Like ancient skin, slowly I will wither and dry up.
But I won’t forget you. I’ll sneak in, in disguise, I’ll become a hat
in your closet, a coat
a pearl brooch
that you’ll be able to pin on your lapel.
© 2009, Linda Zisquit
From: These Mountains
Publisher: 2009, Toby Press, London
From: These Mountains
Publisher: 2009, Toby Press, London
EVERYTHING THAT WAS FLESH OF YOUR FLESH, SAYS JONATHAN
EVERYTHING THAT WAS FLESH OF YOUR FLESH, SAYS JONATHANEverything that was flesh of your flesh, says Jonathan
is about to drop off you, like a shell –
detach and come off, like a hymen, like the scab of a wound
like snakeskin.
Every inside is peeling off, says Jonathan, becoming outside
to make space for a new inside.
A boy peels off to become a youth. A caterpillar to become a cocoon.
The cocoon will be a moth.
Even I, who is moving inside you
will drop off and fall.
Like ancient skin, slowly I will wither and dry up.
But I won’t forget you. I’ll sneak in, in disguise, I’ll become a hat
in your closet, a coat
a pearl brooch
that you’ll be able to pin on your lapel.
© 2009, Linda Zisquit
From: These Mountains
Publisher: 2009, Toby Press, London
From: These Mountains
Publisher: 2009, Toby Press, London
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