Adi Keissar
A man set himself on fire
My words won’t put bread on the table for the hungryMy words won’t warm up the homeless on a night without sky
My words won’t pay the electricity bill
Won’t hug the children returning from daycare
My words can’t
My words can’t
My words could never
stop the creditors from repossessing
block the social security
outlaw the government
My words can’t describe the
despair
the suffocation
the drowning
the indignation
the shame
God
The shame.
So I will rub words
like stones
Stonetostonestonetostone
Wordtowordwordtoword
until sparks will fly
until smoke will rise
until the blue flame
of a man
who killed himself in warm blood
will start.
I don’t know how the eyes burn
or the fingernails
and how long it takes for the flesh to bubble
and what sets fire first
the hair or the face
I don’t know if you scream or cry
or lose your voice
when you burn
I don’t know if you scream or cry
or stay silent or run or stand in place
when you burn
(And the angel of the Lord appeared unto him
in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush:
and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire,
and the bush was not consumed.)
Yair Netanyahu
Bibi Lapid
Gideon Cohen
Meir Saar
Do not come near
take your sandals off your feet
for the man on which you are standing
is holy ground.
Scorched holy ground.
אדם הצית עצמו
אדם הצית עצמו
הַ מלִּים שֶלִּי לֹא יַנִּיחוּ לֶחֶם עַל שֻּלְחָן שֶל רְעֵבִּים
הַמִּלִּים שֶלִּי לֹא יְחַמְמוּ חַסְרוֹת בַיִּת בְלַיְלָה בְלִּי שָמַיִּם
הַמִּלִּים שֶלִּי לֹא יְשַלְמוּ חֶשְבוֹן חַשְמַל
וְלֹא יִּתְנוּ חִּבוּק מֵגֵן לִּילָדִּים
הַמִּלִּים שֶלִּי לֹא יַצְלִּיחוּ
הַמִּלִּים שֶלִּי לֹא יַצְלִּיחוּ
הַמִּלִּים שֶלִּי לְעוֹלָם לֹא יַצְלִּיחוּ
לַעֲצֹר אֶת הַהוֹצָאָה לַפֹעַל
לַחְסֹם אֶת בִּטוּחַ לְאֻּמִּי
לְהוֹצִּיא אֶת הַמֶמְשָלָה מִּחוּץ לַחֹק
הַמִּלִּים שֶלִּי לֹא יַצְלִּיחוּ לְתָאֵר אֶת
הַיֵאוּש
הַמַ חנָק
הַטְבִּיעָה
הָעֶלְבוֹן
הַבוּשָה
אֱלֹהִּים
הַבוּשָה.
אָז אֲחַכֵךְ מִּלִּים
כְמ ו אֲבָנִּים
אֶבֶןבְאֶבֶןאֶבֶןבְאֶבֶן
מִּלָהבְמִּלָהמִּלָהבְמִּלָה
עַד שֶיֵצְאוּ גִּצִּים
עַד שֶיֵצֵא עֲשַן שְרֵפָה
עַד שֶתֵצֵא לֶהָבָה
כְחֻּלָה
שֶל אָדָם
שֶהָרַג אֶת עַצְמ ו בְדָם חַם.
אֲנִּי לֹא יוֹדַעַת אֵיךְ נִּשְרָפוֹת הָעֵינַיִּם
א ו הַצִּפָרְנַיִּם
וְכַמָה זְמַן לוֹקֵ ח לַבָשָר לְבַעְבֵ ע
וּמַה נִּדְ לק קֹדֶם
הַשֵעָר א ו הַפָנִּים
אֲנִּי לֹא יוֹדַעַת אִּם צוֹרְחִּים א ו בוֹכִּים
א ו נֶאֱלָמִּים
כשֶנִּשְרָפִּים
אֲנִּי לֹא יוֹדַעַת אִּם צוֹרְחִּים א ו בוֹכִּים
א ו שוֹתְקִּים א ו רָצִּים א ו עוֹמְדִּים בַמָקוֹם
כְשֶנִּשְרָפִּים
)וַיֵרָא מַלְאַךְ ה' אֵלָיו
בְלַבַת אֵש מִּתוֹךְ הַסְנֶה
וַיַרְא וְהִּנֵה הַסְנֶה
בֹעֵר בָאֵש
וְהַסְנֶה אֵינֶנוּ אֻּכָל(
יָאִּיר נְתַנְיָהוּ
בִּיבִּי לַפִּיד
גִּדְעוֹן כֹהֵן
מֵאִּיר סַעַר
אַל תִּקְרַב הֲלֹם
שַל נְעָלֶיךָ מֵעַל רַגְלֶיךָ
כִּי הָאָדָם אֲשֶר אַתָה עוֹמֵד
עָלָיו
אַדְמַת קֹדֶש הוּא.
אַדְמַת קֹדֶש חֲרוּכָה.
שֶקִּבֵל בְמַתָנָה
מֵהַמְדִּינָה.
From: Shahor al ga-bay shahor/Black on Black
Publisher: Guerilla Tarbut, Tel Aviv
A man set himself on fire
My words won’t put bread on the table for the hungryMy words won’t warm up the homeless on a night without sky
My words won’t pay the electricity bill
Won’t hug the children returning from daycare
My words can’t
My words can’t
My words could never
stop the creditors from repossessing
block the social security
outlaw the government
My words can’t describe the
despair
the suffocation
the drowning
the indignation
the shame
God
The shame.
So I will rub words
like stones
Stonetostonestonetostone
Wordtowordwordtoword
until sparks will fly
until smoke will rise
until the blue flame
of a man
who killed himself in warm blood
will start.
I don’t know how the eyes burn
or the fingernails
and how long it takes for the flesh to bubble
and what sets fire first
the hair or the face
I don’t know if you scream or cry
or lose your voice
when you burn
I don’t know if you scream or cry
or stay silent or run or stand in place
when you burn
(And the angel of the Lord appeared unto him
in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush:
and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire,
and the bush was not consumed.)
Yair Netanyahu
Bibi Lapid
Gideon Cohen
Meir Saar
Do not come near
take your sandals off your feet
for the man on which you are standing
is holy ground.
Scorched holy ground.
From: Shahor al ga-bay shahor/Black on Black
A man set himself on fire
My words won’t put bread on the table for the hungryMy words won’t warm up the homeless on a night without sky
My words won’t pay the electricity bill
Won’t hug the children returning from daycare
My words can’t
My words can’t
My words could never
stop the creditors from repossessing
block the social security
outlaw the government
My words can’t describe the
despair
the suffocation
the drowning
the indignation
the shame
God
The shame.
So I will rub words
like stones
Stonetostonestonetostone
Wordtowordwordtoword
until sparks will fly
until smoke will rise
until the blue flame
of a man
who killed himself in warm blood
will start.
I don’t know how the eyes burn
or the fingernails
and how long it takes for the flesh to bubble
and what sets fire first
the hair or the face
I don’t know if you scream or cry
or lose your voice
when you burn
I don’t know if you scream or cry
or stay silent or run or stand in place
when you burn
(And the angel of the Lord appeared unto him
in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush:
and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire,
and the bush was not consumed.)
Yair Netanyahu
Bibi Lapid
Gideon Cohen
Meir Saar
Do not come near
take your sandals off your feet
for the man on which you are standing
is holy ground.
Scorched holy ground.
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