 |
"Protsesiyes"
illustration by Evelyn Likht;
Monatlakher zshurnal far
literatur. [Monthly Journal for Literature] Vol. 1, no. 1 (Bronx, NY:
Mar. 1925). |
Time-Bloodied
Rusty and yellow
dusty all-barbarous brutes
dear tyrants
we come and go
with symmetrically-hasty steps
of gentle does
an inveigling reproach
slung in Pan’s [1]
moldy face
the schema is nearly consumed.
So someone walks around
in the sun,
his fiery pale-faced eyes
shine delight and
are membranes of doubt concealed.
(Once
many years ago
they murmured in my ear:
strong with the strong
one-by-one the weak go down
with us
with us
won the bottom -- )
Legend
Wandering in the wasteland
I saw the snakes smile
their dusty skins
in convulsions
of laughter.
The Hammer of Luck
Waves --
mountain
on mountain
heap
on heap --
waves
mischievous tongues
flare and lick --
waves
one of the waves:
-- just so, brother, fall
-- that’s called a carnival
-- warmer warmer
-- feverish --
one of the waves:
-- dance for joy, brother, fall
-- fine show
-- we are bathed
-- in a sunless sky
-- fire-hot red --
shadows hang
half-extended
sway
in the air --
waves.
Hymn of Squandered Blood
Tiny mouths
little lips
burn carmine
--
kiss me
--
kiss me
tiny creatures
fulfill
a ritual
--
take me
--
take me
something chained
with pliers
and sorrows
--
stop stop
--
your you your me.
A Farewell to the Gods
Lively and subtle,
great as a genie
you are great and holy
holy as a virgin’s breast --
offal of hate and love,
fallen to rust
fallen in dust.
Movement from a Symphony
Chameleon. Stretches that bring in unsuspiciously passive
delight in their thought -- sunk in the colorless depths of somnambulism [2]
-- chaotic rhythm immerses itself -- swims around in dewy blueness --
sea-waters sparkle like spectral diamonds -- leaden air melts into bubbly foam
-- terrifying -- high -- cold -- it slips myriad-wise down the mantles of
immobility -- lethargy -- calm -- hollow vibration comes --
Ancient stone with pale-white belly up waits patiently:
the magic hatchet should come and even it out -- grasses -- envy-green at
season’s onset -- asymmetrically bent flat skewers with sharpened points
perforate the swollen earth -- a different time, a sickly yellowness attacks
them -- their hopes waste away like thin dust-colored hairs on dull later skulls -- at times bad air
stirs up the endless empty place around -- sand borrows wings from the zephyr
-- a pair in the vortex [3]
live it up just above the plain
Another stone.
Another stone.
Archipelagos of stones trade places -- never any deep-settling -- over the naked flanks of a mountain the mysterious peak lifts itself -- matter stays stoned -- petrified in great sadness -- the hatchet levels out the stones -- swelling that lets itself be hammered in remains a part of the house -- bellies that forget who is older get hacked off -- with Buddhist hearts they lie down with lowered hands before the foundation -- smooth proud timber (erstwhile free anarchic forest-scarecrows) -- the measure taken by sight -- lays down like a modest compromise under the cryptic feet on conquered earth -- glass looks two-sided -- in and out -- inside -- eyes squint in the soft fragrance of shadow-light -- see the utensils -- rugs-- floor -- table -- chairs -- the inviting resting-place -- outside the Lilliputian window panes shine -- observing presumptuously the round scarlet-red fire-ring -- reflects the grotesque in it -- deaf walls -- to the right -- to the left -- across -- gazing in their opaque silence -- prick-up their ears in case a symbolic creature walks past with an open mouth and loses unconscious slander on the path -- recording it in their kinetic consciousness -- carrying it hidden in themselves until the day of judgment -- coolly-quiet the windows hold open the tired eyelids which constantly fall over them (strained from unbroken wakefulness) -- perhaps it will prove successful to notice whatever causes them to cheer up in their misanthropic non-sight -- the roof lies comfortably over the void of the attic -- waits in case the never-promised-to-anybody-by-anybody, which must come down from above, ever falls -- checks with his steel frame the creativity that seethes violation in the pipes of the whole house
Another house.
Another house.
Daringly-agile like a snake, the clenched street coils rightward --
unsuccessfully -- a hateful parapet
obstructs the way -- with a cascade of noise she sets out on her aeronautic
trip over air-bridges leftward -- pummels herself through the crystal-clear
prisms of air -- runs -- runs
without stopping -- earlier just like a straightedge -- then somewhat bent into
a crooked line -- down -- down -- the eyes closed -- all the energy
concentrated in the chasing -- a wild abyss opens itself suddenly where snakes
and scorpions amuse themselves with exotic dances -- keep jumping around – in
no time slip in between them -- often in the middle of running takes a
tremendous blow to the head literally
sparks fly: another street runs as far as the way – slowly comes to -- catches
one’s breath -- girds the loins -- scratches itself with broken ribs on the
other side -- feels anew the merry impulse leave itself in God’s hands
on the long treacherous way -- adventurous courage stirs -- pushes itself on
again in an intersection --
Another street.
Another street.
The yishuv.[4]
Measured reflected rhythm of yesterday’s chaos -- long-necked lanterns wink
silhouettes --
Another yishuv.
Another yishuv.
The world --
NOTES
[1] Pan: possibly a reference to the
mythological god, or to the Slavic honorific, “pan,” a term of address
sometimes found in Yiddish literature.
[2] Somnambulism: meaning uncertain: “Hin-her-plet”
in original.
[3] Vortex: possibly a coinage: “shturem-karahod”
in the original (literally “storm-circle”)
[4] Yishuv: “Settlement,” a Hebrew word also referring to the body of Jewish residents in Palestine, before the founding of the State of Israel.
[4] Yishuv: “Settlement,” a Hebrew word also referring to the body of Jewish residents in Palestine, before the founding of the State of Israel.
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