Memory (from my Father's Archive)
Written by Zeev KachelTranslated by Uvi Poznansky
When the past becomes your presentAnd follows you everywhereLike a hunting dog, it's so intentThen memory becomes despairMemory, by a sudden spellThen becomes your daily routineReality turns into hellA crazy race to the unseenYou set your ladder on a rippleNo wonder that you fell, you cripple
I am in the process of translating my father's work, posthumously. The original Hebrew text of this poem appears in Ropes, Separation, Tear (Hebrew Edition) which was published by me earlier this year, a tribute to his memory. I used my pencil-on-paper drawing of a twisting rope as the basis for the cover of that book. The word Ropes in Hebrew has an additional meaning, beyond the obvious one: it means pain (as in growing pains or pain during childbirth.)
If you can read poetry in Hebrew, take a 'look inside' the book on Amazon. And please forgive the translation, which is the art of compromise between content, rhythm and rhyme.
When the past becomes your presentAnd follows you everywhereLike a hunting dog, it's so intentThen memory becomes despairMemory, by a sudden spellThen becomes your daily routineReality turns into hellA crazy race to the unseenYou set your ladder on a rippleNo wonder that you fell, you cripple
I am in the process of translating my father's work, posthumously. The original Hebrew text of this poem appears in Ropes, Separation, Tear (Hebrew Edition) which was published by me earlier this year, a tribute to his memory. I used my pencil-on-paper drawing of a twisting rope as the basis for the cover of that book. The word Ropes in Hebrew has an additional meaning, beyond the obvious one: it means pain (as in growing pains or pain during childbirth.)
If you can read poetry in Hebrew, take a 'look inside' the book on Amazon. And please forgive the translation, which is the art of compromise between content, rhythm and rhyme.
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