Though you are far away
Though you are far away, O crown of wisdom, your friendship is very sweet,
and the sickness I feel at your parting is stronger than any other sickness.
Your sun shines over all; to me it comes, then disappears.
How could I go wandering outside? Inside, for so longI am trapped in a house with a maiden, but I do not know to what end.
The streams of Eden pour forth in front of me [to offer their pleasures], but I thirst.
All I have is my eyes’ sight, like gazing at the sun’s face.
But your poem consoled me, which you wove and embroidered.
And the signs that it predicts have already arrived, and here they are:hugging and kissing, thigh upon thigh, and arm upon shoulder.
I skirt around the place of her breast, like a Nazirite skirting a vineyard.It will be sufficient for her to be pure with me and not rained upon!1
I’ll attain part of my desire, by means of craftiness,
and all this will be worthwhile, until the sheet is bloodied,
until I pursue and attain and beat [her hymen] until it is destroyed,
and I lead her astray like the serpent [in Eden]—the serpent, the most crafty.
Here I conclude my word, and I know that it is finished,
so I bid you good wishes, as numerous as the seashore sand, O father of song, crown of wisdom.
Translated by Gabriel Wasserman.
Notes
[Perhaps: when the poet’s bride is in a state of ritual purity and not flowing with blood like rain. The allusion is to Ezekiel 22:22: “You are a land not purified, with no rain upon you on the day of rage.”—Trans.]
Published in: The Posen Library of Jewish Culture and Civilization, vol. 3: Encountering Christianity and Islam.