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For Years I Wallowed
For years I wallowed about in the world,
Now I’m going home to wallow there.
With a pair of shoes and the shirt on my back,
And the stick in my hand that goes with me everywhere…
Contributor:
Itzik Manger
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Date:
1958
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Every day when his mind was at ease,
Relieved of the need to tell us about the countries he’d seen,
He would raise his hands high above our heads,
Appealing on our behalf before the Almighty to let…
Contributor:
Moshe Sartel
Places:
Jerusalem, Israel
Date:
1967
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Only three exits are becoming to every woman, big or small. The first is when she exits from the womb, dirtied, as if from a deep swamp. The second is when she exits from her woman’s tent and enters…
Contributor:
Immanuel Frances
Places:
Date:
17th Century
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And veins web her temples,
and my father pins on the orchid,
and my card names her the best mother.
But Alzheimer’s or arteriosclerosis (the end is the same)
praises him ad nauseum,
but accuses my…
Contributor:
Hugh Seidman
Places:
New York, United States of America
Date:
1992
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I’m no longer the man that once was. I am the one I precede,
An approximate continuation of the selfsame countenance.
I continue walking without him. At times I run in the night,
Trying to break my…
Contributor:
Haim Gouri
Places:
Jerusalem, Israel
Date:
1994
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Where are the merchants who used to chase after me to purchase my favours? O malevolent Time! Nowadays, they abhor my company; when I call for them, there is no answer. How has my merchandise been…
Contributor:
Immanuel Frances
Places:
Date:
17th Century
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You’ve grown
but not
grown up
You’re ripe
as earth is raw
where roots probe deep
Like all roots
you probe
in deep darkness
Translated by Marcia Falk.
Contributor:
Malka Heifetz Tussman
Places:
Date:
1974
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Greetings 53 year old Tristess, you must have guessed
back then, before youth and old men in fancy cars
turned their backs on you,
how all this would vanish, only Mitterand and the Citroën remain;
yo…
Contributor:
Natan Zach
Places:
Haifa, Israel
Date:
1988
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Take me in under your wing
and be unto me mother and sister
and let your breast be my head’s rest,
home of my lonely prayers.
At the hour of mercy, at sunset,
list and I’ll reveal my sorrow’s root…
Contributor:
Chaim Nahman Bialik
Places:
Odessa, Russian Empire
(Odesa, Ukraine)
Date:
1906
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While the translation is formatted as prose, the original is a poem of ten lines.
Contributor:
Mordechai Dato
Places:
Date:
16th Century