PGISHAH LEH EIN KETZ
|SHKEYDIM VETZIMUKIM DANCE |
Ki sa’art alai, lanetzach anagnech
Shav chomah atzur lach, Shav atziv dlatayim
Tshukati elaich, ve’elai ganech
Ve’elai gufi scharchar oved yadayim
Lasfarim rak at hachet vehashofetet
Pit’omit la’ad, einai bach halumot
Et birchov lochem, shotet shki’ot shel petel
Te’almi oti la’alumot.
Al titchaneni el hansogim migeshet
Levadi ehiyeh be’artzotaich elech
Tfilati davar eineinah mevakeshet
Tfilati achat vehi omeret- he lach
Ad katzvei ha’etzev, ad einot halayil
Birchovot barzel, reikim va’arukim
Elohai tzivani se’et le’olalaich
Me’oni harav shkeidim vetzimukim
Tov she’et libeinu od yadech lochedet
Al terachamihu be’oifo larutz
Al tanichi lo sheya’afil kecheder
Bli hakochavim shenish’aru bachutz
Sham lohet yareach kinshikat tabachat
Sham rakia lach et shi’ulo mar’im
Sham shikmah tapil, Anaf li kemitpachat
Va’ani ekod lah Va’arim.
Va’ani yodea ki lekol hatof,
Be’arei mischar chershot vecho’avot
Yom echad epol od ptzua rosh liktof
Et chiuchenu ze mibein hamerchavot
A MEETING TO NO END / INFINITY
A MEETING TO THE END OF DAYS
For you have stormed on me, forever I shall play you (as playing music)
To avail I shall besiege you with a wall, to avail I shall erect doors!
My lust is to you and to me your garden
And to me my body is dizzy, lost for hands!
To the books only you are the sin and the judge.
Sudden forever, my eyes on you are struck,
When in a battled street, bleeding raspberry sunsets,
You will bundle me in sheaves.
Don’t plead to those who withdraw from approaching
All alone I shall be a nomad in your lands.
My prayer seeks nothing,
My prayer is one and its saying: here you are (as: take this)!
Till the ends of sadness, till the springs of night,
In long empty iron streets,
My god commanded me to carry to your babies,
From my great poverty/suffering almonds and raisins.
It's good that our heart your hand sill caches,
Don’t pity it when its tired of running,
Don’t let it darken as a room
without the stars left outside.
There a moon it burning hot as a kiss from a (lady) cook.
There a damp sky thunders its cough,
There a sycamore will drop its branch for me as a Handkerchief
And I shall bow to it and pickup.
And I know that to the sound of the drum
In deaf and sorry/hurting commerce cities
One day I will fall injured head to pluck
Our smile between the chariots.