CLOCKWORK DOLL
I was a clockwork doll that night,
and I turned left and I turned right
and when I fell and broke to bits,
they recomposed my wax and wits.
I was a proper doll once more,
my manner carefully demure;
and yet a doll of another kind
an injured twig that tendrils bind.
And when they asked me to a ball
although my steps were rhythmical,
they partnered me with dog and cat.
My hair was gold, my eyes were blue.
I wore a dress where flowers grew.
Cherries blazed on my straw hat.
SURELY YOU REMEMBER
by Dahlia Ravikovitch (translated from the Hebrew
by Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch)
After they all leave,
I remain alone with the poems,
some poems of mine, some of others.
I prefer poems that others have written.
I remain quiet, and slowly
the knot in my throat dissolves.
I remain.
Sometimes I wish everyone would go away.
Maybe it’s nice, after all, to write poems.
You sit in your room and the walls grow taller.
Colors deepen.
A blue kerchief becomes a deep well.
You wish everyone would go away.
You don’t know what’s the matter with you.
Perhaps you’ll think of something.
Then it all passes, and you are pure crystal.
After that, love.
Narcissus was so much in love with himself.
Only a fool doesn’t understand
he loved the river, too.
You sit alone.
Your heart aches, but
won’t break.
The faded images wash away one by one.
Then the defects.
A sun sets at midnight. You remember
the dark flowers too.
You wish you were dead or alive or
somebody else.
Isn’t there a country you love? A word?
Surely you remember.
Only a fool lets the sun set when it likes.
It always drifts off too early
westward to the islands.
Sun and moon, winter and summer
will come to you,
infinite treasures.
* * *
To die like Rachel,
With the soul quivering like a bird
Seeking to flee.
Across from the tent stood Jacob and Joseph terrified.
They spoke about her in a shudder.
All the days of her life tumble within her
Like an infant seeking to be born.
How hard.
The love of Jacob devoured her wholly.
Now, as the soul departs,
She has no more desire for all this.
Suddenly the infant wailed
And Jacob came to the tent.
But Rachel does not feel
Rejuvenation washes her face
And head.
A great peace has descended upon her,
The breath of her soul will not rustle a feather.
They laid her between the stones of the hills
And did not mourn her.
I wish
To die like Rachel.
