the shed skin

this is a song by the amazing poet Meir Ariel. this is an experiment in translating.

Here i chew a blade of grass,

under a rundown overpass,

above the carts go, perptual in chase

yet again i start to think

what to eat and what to drink

the interested ant has me appraise

at times of modest interval,

i fall so poor, with no morale,

fall off from the clink-clank racing wagon.

expell from furious turning reel

sinking under waves like steel,

as the ruckous in the distance , moves along.

and father always said,

neglect one day, scorned for two.

the cart goes on , never stay.

jump off of it today,

and here two.years pass,

and you are still lagging on the way.

no parachute, i freely jump

to all directions open up,

the passions , burn me, each path i take

and so in the meantime , i take rest,

as i lay whereever i find nest

above, the rising speed, will crush and break.

impovrished, poor, and past a dread,

observe the serpant as it shed,

wishing that i could, so easily proceed

if i could molt with no chagrin,

take off my culture of dried skin,

renewed , arriving, i may succeed..

a girl i had, my heart beguiled,

she was unclear, and also wild,

but not enough for to be stricken.

and with a car, I paid to chart,

i took her figure, broke her heart

and after that my longing to her deepen.

and go you , sort it through now,

how to sort it through now?

sitting under some bridge, and ruminating

who needs you now?

who remembers you now?

and the connection, are you getting?

this is a poem by Moshe Tavenkin.

massah is loosly translated from hebrew as trial or test (or judgment).

i stumbled upon this while doing some research.

Day of Massah

as the man betrayed by the path,

from the four winds,

his feet shall lead him astray.

to a district where he has no will,

a forest thicket -impassble

its caverns -degraded

its circle-sealed

its dirt- burnt

no two stones standing.

there are no twigs to fetch

there are no charcoals

no bread

no fire

no water

there is only

a wealth

of ashes.

this poem is based on a biblical quote (Exodus, c. 12 v.19), and was written by an amazing poet called Natan Zach, who has recently passed away. I found myself this morning, very drawn to it, and decided to translate it.

Man is as the tree of the field,

as the tree, it flourisehs, grows,

as the tree, it is hewn, and falls,

and i can not know,

where have I gone,

and where I shall go,

as a tree of the field.

Man is as the tree of the field,

as the tree, man shall upward strive,

as a man , it shall burn in flame,

and I can not know,

where have I gone,

and where I shall go,

as a tree of the field.

I’ve loved and I’ve hated,

both this and that, I’ve tasted,

buried in a plot of dirt,

it is bitter, my mouth is bitter,

as a tree of the field,

as a tree of the field.

Man is as a tree of the field,

as the tree, he thirsts for water,

as a man, it thirsts unquenched.

and I can not know,

where have I gone,

and where shall I go,

as a tree of the field,

as a tree of the field.

this is another experiment in translation.

written by the great songwriter , Ehud Manor.

#................................

the huntsman rose at dawn

and left his home behind

to the woods ,set upon

the drawn bow by his side.

by the even’ his roam,

and no prize he could find

thirst and hunger,

had possesed his mind,

sullen hearted  ,

to home, his mind awry

and , two swans by the stream,

caught his eye.

they were fair , and snow-white

amorous and noble

with haste,  let flight

arrow slaying the male

for to rest, lay his head

the man, weary had slept

but a dream filled with dread,

without lull, torment

saw a grief-stricken maid

as a storm she come in

clasped in her slender hand

a feather white, did bring.

her eyes so fair,

piercingly, stare,

all night haunted,

tears run , endless despair,

’what was his crime, or his sin?

my pale lover, you took,

by morn,

go to our lover’s brook!′

the huntsman rose at dawn

and left his home behind

to the woods ,set upon

the drawn bow by his side.

and a gentle lone swan

she was pure white

caught the hunter ,

in her glaring sight.

she turned beak to her flesh,

and was mortally torn

by his shadow , so dark

in the water, she sank.

all the world is silance,

all the world dessolate.

this is another translation experiment.

it was written by the amazing playwrite, and poet Hanoch Levine.

++++++++++++++++

tall is the tree, and verdant green ,

briny is the ocean, and deep.

if the ocean’s so deep, what cares the tree?

what cares the ocean, that the tree is so green?

tall is the tree, and verdant green,

beauty is the bird, she shall fly a-far

if the bird shall take wing, what cares the tree?

what cares the bird, that the tree is so green?

briny is the ocean, the ocean so deep,

beauty is the bird, she shall fly a-far,

if the bird shall take wing, what cares the ocean?

what cares bird, If the ocean’s deep?

man sings songs, ’cause the tree is green,

man sings songs, ’cause the ocean is deep,

if the bird shall take wing, He won’t sing any more songs,

what cares the bird, if he sings or stays mute?

This is a ballad written by the poet Shaul Tshernichovsky. It tells the biblical story of king Saul (Shaul), who is preparing to fight in a war with the Philistine king Achish, and his ally, David. Saul is feeling hopeless and abandobed by god, and being without the council of Shmuel, who has since annointed David to replace him. Shmuel, a great Religious authority then dies. With great foreboding, Saul rides in search of a mystic , who could evoke Shmuel for advice. He finds a witch/mystic in a settlment called Ein-Dor. The mystic refuses his request, fearing the King, who persecuted her kind. But she later relents and calls upon Shmuel's spirit. Counicidentally, this is the only time in the entire Tanach (the old testement), when there is any hint of an individual afterlife, as jewish tradition considers all people to remain dead until judgment day (no heaven/hell). In any case shmuel is not happy about being called up. Saul and Shmuel accuse each other, and finally Shmuel says that Sauls house, and army will fall. As punishment for his disobeying gods will. Saul is obviously even more depressed, and the mystic tries to cheer him by offering him food . Saul they returns to his campsite, assembles his army for the showdown that he accepts that he shall not win. During the battle Shaul's son, Binyamin is killed, and he takes his own life, famously falling upon his sword.

This episode, both the meeting with the mystic and the battle are one of the most tragic, gloomy and controversial stories in the bible.

In the poem, Tshernichovsky brings the different sides of the meeting of the king and the mystic, the kings wandering in memories past, of his innoncent youth and the subsequent conversation he had with Shmuel.

Bear in mind that this was translated from hebrew, considering the verse..

Shaul in Ein-Dor

------+++++--+++

in mirk of night, no quarrel or bow,

on light horse swiftly king Saul, to ein dor goes.

in one hovel's darkness, an ember's glow, dim,

the boy whispers "Lives she , therein."

"you be the crone?" "I am ,sir , and here"

"cast thee in mysts, a shadow to peer"

now, darkness , horror of flames, a culdron,

and names of all demons , a boiling concoction,

in Bashan grass , the viper doth creep,

so shall fumes and smoke miander and whisp

in the circle of chanting, in sulfur, annointed

stands weary king, all but disheartned

seeing damned forms, and creatures of myst,

the sweat beads cooly on his royal cheeks,

his spirit is weak, and soul so forlorne,

crestfallen is he, as his own death is shown,

in visions now gone, his life's passage mark,

"release, release" his lips plead in the dark.…

murk and the flames, a terrible quell

the fuming cauldren, and circle of spells,

recalled then the king, his youth's early bloom,

the spring of his days, err darkness loomed.

and pastoral scene, his eyes then gaze,

a lush medow and cows to graze

an azure heaven, and fragrance so rare

in a shade, strong as an oak forbare.

there, in peace, shall the shepperd Repose,

See The calves frolick in green furoughs ,

Tranquil , serene, a beautiful spell

How plesent, resounding, the herd's ringing bells.

"Be I so fresh, so hale and content,

Would i be so, as i was, innocent."

And a terrible grief on his heart depressed,

And a tear, a cry, his throat expressed.

Then sudden shock, a thundereding might

The flash, out from the smoke alight.

'to be king it was I, who had you annointed,

From rustic herding to palace I had you transported'

'Why From decay, have you thus provoke,

to the temporal substance have me ,evoke?'

'Why, from my flock,was i chosen and, torn,

For to govern your tribe, had me so enthrone?'

'In tumults of war, my youth is but spent,

And the bliss of my home, has become desolate.'

'The philistines horde, they surround and distress,

The melancholy has me onto death so depressed.'

'Man of god, ye rack so my soul,

Forsaken me, ye must now counsel.'

'Why annoint me, king to reign?

Why from flock had me to rend?'

' you raise god's wrath, in vanity, oppose

Anon, ye shall join me, you and your host.'

no quarrel or bow, in the breaking of morn,

on light horse, king Saul, to the campsite return

Pallen is he but fearless in heart,

And bleak are his eyes, in his terrible plight.

this is another experiment in translation. the poem , called "Urban evening" is written by Israeli poet Natan Alterman. it is very difficult, or even to convay all the nuances of the poem, along with a rhyming scheme, and so the translation lacks rhyming, in favor of retaining other aspects.

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A sunset of rose, between the roofs

the blue asphalt below

to the evening, mournful women's eyes ask,

why have you come?

The lanterns, the blossom of the city

bloom in fragrant light,

electric spring, bright melancholia,

musn't escape its stupor.

Only an orphan, an innocent

born for a moment, then gone.

Between the nights and the days,

come to brighten our eyes.

Between the days and the nights,

to blue gazing ranges we shall

lead our worn souls

to graze on the meadow.

A farewell wave, trusting girl,

her smile, carried the vehicle,

what was and wasn't

seems to yet be.

I wish to recall

my thought, and she is startled,

faces of women float in the light,

their feet soak in the azure.

lighter on my right,

my yearning heart , the left,

prepared to trust,

all man , but myself.

i am now-one, silently observing how,

the moon' breast undone, of the contrary wall.

body's diminish, but head so high, untill

even if i left,

i shall not see the destination.

a sunset of rose on the streetcurb

the street as a tunnel of

blue. whomever reaches the end,

shall want to weep of purpose.

a sunset of rose, between the roofs

the blue asphalt below

to the evening, mournful women's eyes ask,

why have you come?

here is a song, with a very strict rhyming scheme, which i can't even try to tackle. the song though, is just fun and hopful.

written and performed by a band called The Bilooyim.

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when it breaks,

we'll meet on the beach

on the beach, we'll meet,

when the end comes.

we'll eat puree,

from things we'll pick,

we'll need to fetch,

when the end comes.

and there won't be things

no religion or race,

for example,

everyone who's not a zombie,

is a good friend now.

times are hard,

but all that shall pass

on the beach we'll meet

when the end comes.

and there will be

no more differences

like sex or color

for example,

it all comes out like chicken ,

when its well cooked.

you'll see,

it'll happen soon

theyre working on it,

on the beach we'll meet

when it breaks

we'll meet on the beach

on the beach we'll meet

when the end comes.

we'll need to fetch...

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=lXFf66OcVFk&pp=ygUp15TXkdeZ15zXldeZ15nXnSDXoNeZ16TXktepINei15wg15TXl9eV16M%3D