The Easiest Demise
Written by Zeev Kachel
Translated by Uvi Poznansky
Oh Wind, where will you carry meToward what fate, what shore, what bay?Will I be dropped to an open seaOr else become an eagle’s prey?
For what is death? I can’t tellHow beastly, really, might it be?They say that Death will never fellA young-old person such as me.
And so, who knows? I have no answerNo need to trust all those deceits,Lift me slowly, oh Wind, oh motherOr I’ll take cover under sheets
Perhaps it’s better to seek protectionAcross the ocean, in a distant town?I have a passport, a professionCan apply some makeup like a clown
On the other hand, to live foreverIs not so good and not preferred,And it’s not written in any charterWhat in my life still lies ahead
All my acquaintances have long expiredFor me, I think, it is a sin,To be the last one is undesiredI do not wish to lose my kin
So if to die, then with no hagglingI choose the easiest demise,A prayer, “God is full of pity”A headstone for a modest price
With a rotating slab of granite!A splendid cantor, a deep voice too,The two trees, I say, cut down, just cutAnd let them not obscure my view.
Here’s how I wish to be interred:No eulogy at the graveside plot, Not nude; but with a flag, thus coveredAnd never mind the proper spot
Across a stunning slab of graniteMy name inscribed in golden lettersAs is my poem, and my portraitA funeral procession during stormy hoursThe largest crowd with scores of carsPretty women sob in abundant griefWiping their nose with a handkerchief.
Obituaries in the newspaperSome large, some small, both bold and dainty,And that is all. And with no torture.For now just bring me a cup of tea.
I published this poem earlier this year as part of a collection of a Hebrew poetry written be my father (if you can read Hebrew, click the rope image to 'Look Inside'.) Since then I translated all the poems in this collection to English. This labor of love, together with my own poems and prose, will soon be published in the book, Home.
Translated by Uvi Poznansky
Oh Wind, where will you carry meToward what fate, what shore, what bay?Will I be dropped to an open seaOr else become an eagle’s prey?
For what is death? I can’t tellHow beastly, really, might it be?They say that Death will never fellA young-old person such as me.
And so, who knows? I have no answerNo need to trust all those deceits,Lift me slowly, oh Wind, oh motherOr I’ll take cover under sheets
Perhaps it’s better to seek protectionAcross the ocean, in a distant town?I have a passport, a professionCan apply some makeup like a clown
On the other hand, to live foreverIs not so good and not preferred,And it’s not written in any charterWhat in my life still lies ahead
All my acquaintances have long expiredFor me, I think, it is a sin,To be the last one is undesiredI do not wish to lose my kin
So if to die, then with no hagglingI choose the easiest demise,A prayer, “God is full of pity”A headstone for a modest price
With a rotating slab of granite!A splendid cantor, a deep voice too,The two trees, I say, cut down, just cutAnd let them not obscure my view.
Here’s how I wish to be interred:No eulogy at the graveside plot, Not nude; but with a flag, thus coveredAnd never mind the proper spot
Across a stunning slab of graniteMy name inscribed in golden lettersAs is my poem, and my portraitA funeral procession during stormy hoursThe largest crowd with scores of carsPretty women sob in abundant griefWiping their nose with a handkerchief.
Obituaries in the newspaperSome large, some small, both bold and dainty,And that is all. And with no torture.For now just bring me a cup of tea.
I published this poem earlier this year as part of a collection of a Hebrew poetry written be my father (if you can read Hebrew, click the rope image to 'Look Inside'.) Since then I translated all the poems in this collection to English. This labor of love, together with my own poems and prose, will soon be published in the book, Home.
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