A scroll of Lineage — New Version
My grandfather
received from his father a parchment
a scroll of lineage
and his father received from his
and his father received from his
father from father
back to the elders of the
great Assembly
But when my father departed in his immaculate gown
when he ascended to his great ancestral land
the scroll blew into sighs
the scroll blew in the wind
names aflame
letters afly
Ever since
lost still in the tempestuous storm
I seek after my trampled scroll
in the light of day
in the twilight of sorcery
Indeed, I must create
starting now
a scroll of lineage
— a new scroll
One that begins with
me.
Light from the Sea of Death
At the Dead Sea I lay on the seaside bed
taking refuge in the forgetting of memories
I said: let me forget for a moment
all that had transpired
let me consign to oblivion all my toil and legacy.
Then from the sea came towards me a man
who sleeps on the sea of mirrors.
who floats on the water adrift in glow.
his flesh flashing from salt, of water-glow
his blood flashing sevenfold.
Holding in his hand an almond staff
he carves into its bark
mark upon mark.
White and sacred letters he diligently
carves, white symbols in the staff of
signs.
And the man is precious to me and beloved
And the man who rose from the sea
is my grandfather.
The sea is like a pure blue length of cloth
a prayer shawl. A cloth of trembling ripples.
He passes to me the staff from the Sea of Death
his white face storming in fog
his face dripping light from the Sea of Death
light bestowed upon my living hand.
Would that the staff become a torch
of light in my life
that I be fruitful in the land
that I confer it upon my sons.
Her Ebbing Storm
I watched her ebbing storm
surrounded by every adjuration of the Covenant
oaths and vows carved into her living flesh
peeling from my flesh,
detaching, departing
eyes veiled in tremor,
awesome majesty
Her freedom is no more.
Her burning frock she left me,
all my sheets of poems
are hers
— a keepsake.
Her attire is of qualm
disappearing into the distance
she is quiet now, silent.
Who might comprehend
the depth of her torment.
Translated by Schulamith Chava Halevy
