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May 29, 2006
The New Jerusalem by Pinhas Sadeh
The gods, from their temple distant beyond distance, call the poet,
Yet a youth, unto them.
They call to him who has no country, town or home,
To come and build his home in the heavens,
To come in betrothal to the girl of the heaven,
To go to the country church, or to the inn, to smoke his pipe,
And to ramble, on Sabbath morns, across the broad dusts of the heavens.
Life is time: the time that goes
As you dream life.
As fish live in water you live in time.
Time has no measure: the more beauteous the dream
The longer time lasts, becoming infinite and eternal.
And so you long for the most beautiful, the most beautiful of all:
The northern lights, the mist, the girls (pale or dark), the lawn
The sea-breeze,
And so you long to guess the meaning of the call of the Gods.
In the past, yet a boy, you thought much of death.
Today you think, often, of the onceness
Of manâs life.
You have thought much of late of time that passes unchanging,
Of the dream essence of things and events.
For man passes like a meteor through this his world; alone like a
Meteor, and
Like a meteor flushing for a fluttering second and falling into dusk.
He dreams much⦠He dreams all his life.
He may dream of a small home and a golden haired girlâ¦
A burning hearth at evening, a pipe, a kettle boiling in the corner,
A window looking out on the lawn, cows
Returning from pastureâ¦
You dreamed another dream: to be homeless on this earth.
Encircling the globe in trains, in boats, on foot.
Sleeping by day, roaming by night, musing and moulding phrases of
Poems.
Sitting in taverns over wine, singing in the company of strange people,
Looking around at this world⦠Weeping at times, whistling softly.
The Gods denied you happiness,
That you might not live your own life.
That you might understand the suffering of others, that
You might be able to describe their woe.
The gods chose you in your motherâs womb and will always call you
To them.
From the mists of distance the gods beckon to the poet, yet a youth,
With beckoning most painfully sweet.
And so you went out of earthly Jerusalem, to seek the new Jerusalem.
You went out of the land of Egypt to wander in the wilderness of the
World,
To celebrate the soulâs Passover.
_____________________________________________________
This is the first part of a long poem by my favorite Israeli writer, Pinhas Sadeh (1929-1994). It is taken from his autobiographical novel, âLife as a parableâ, translated by Richard Flanz (1966)
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May 29, 2006 in Books & Literature | Permalink
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Comments
I've only just come back to read this properly. It is so poignant and so beautifully written. Later, I must look at the book. I don't know this man's writing but based on this example, I think I'll like it.
Posted by: Julie at Jun 5, 2006 2:18:55 PM