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A SELECTION OF HIS POEMS IN ENGLISH TRANSLATION
Samuel Hanagid and “the Law of Man”
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۞۞۞۞۞۞۞۞۞۞۞۞۞۞۞۞
Rouge in appearance
and
pleasant to drink,
mixed in
and prized in
weak in its pitcher but rising to the head
it
rules in heads
that sway.
Even the mourner whose tears
fall with his heart’s blood,
disperses his grief in retreat with wine,
As though friends—passing the cup from hand to
hand—
were rolling
dice, for a diamond.
Translated by Peter Cole
from Peter Cole, trans., Selected Poems of Shmuel HaNagid
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996).
Copyright © 1996 by
http://press.princeton.edu/titles/5707.html
Reprinted by permission of the publisher.
۞
I
crossed through a souk where the butchers
hung
oxen and sheep at their sides,
there
were birds and herds of fatlings like squid,
their
terror loud
as
blood congealed over blood
and
slaughterers’ knives opened veins.
In
booths alongside them the fishmongers,
and
fish in heaps, and tackle like sand;
and
beside them the Street of the Bakers
—whose
ovens are fired through dawn.
They
bake, they eat, they lead their prey;
they
split what’s left to bring home.
·
And
my heart understood how they did it and asked:
Who
are you to survive?
What
separates you from these beasts,
which
were born and knew waking and labor and rest?
If
they hadn’t been given by God for your meals,
they’d
be free.
If
He wanted this instant
He’d
easily put you in their place.
They’ve
breath, like you, and hearts,
which
scatter them over the earth;
there
was never a time when the living didn’t die,
nor
the young that they bear not give birth.
Pay
attention to this, you pure ones,
and
princes so calm in your fame,
know
if you’d fathom the worlds of the hidden:
THIS IS THE LAW OF MAN.
Translated
by Peter Cole
from Peter Cole, trans., Selected Poems of Shmuel HaNagid
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996).
Copyright © 1996 by
http://press.princeton.edu/titles/5707.html
Reprinted by permission of the publisher.
۞
I billeted a strong force overnight in a
citadel laid waste in former days by other generals. There we slept upon its
back and flanks, while under us its landlords slept. And I said to my heart:
Where are the many people who once lived here? Where are the builders and
vandals, the rulers and paupers, the slaves and masters? Where are the
begetters and the bereaved, the fathers and the sons, the mourners and the
bridegrooms? And where are the many people born after the others had died, in
days gone by, after other days and years? Once they lodged upon the earth; now
they are lodged within it. They passed from their palaces to the grave, from
pleasant courts to dust.
Translated by T. Carmi
from The Penguin Book of Hebrew Verse, edited by T. Carmi
(Allen Lane, 1981). Copyright ©
T. Carmi, 1981. 
۞
THE
Do you remember the mountain
pass of sand which I crossed alone while fleeing from you and afraid?
Even today I am in transit over
you,—but behind me are tens of thousands who obey me like their father
And wait for my utterances as
for the rain and attend to my wisdom as to prophecy. Because of this bless them
for me my God,—may they follow after me willingly today.
Translated by
Leon J. Weinberger
from Leon J. Weinberger, trans.,
Jewish Prince in Moslem
(Tuscaloosa and London: The University of Alabama Press, 1997).
Copyright
© 1973 by The
Reprinted by permission of the publisher.
۞
THREE LOVE POEMS
1
I’d
sell my soul for that fawn
of a
boy night walker
to
sound of the ‘ud & flute playing
who saw
the glass in my hand said
“drink
the wine from between my lips”
&
the moon was a yod drawn on
the
cover of dawn—in gold ink
2
take
the blood of the grape from
her red
jeweled glass like fire
in
middle of hail
this
lady with lips of scarlet
thread roof of
her mouth
like
good wine
mouth
like her body well perfumed:
from
blood of corpses the tips
of her
fingers are red thus
half of
her hand is like ruby
half
quartz
3
that’s
it—I love that fawn
plucking
roses from
your
garden—
you can
put the blame on me
but if
you once looked at my lover
with
your eyes
your
lovers would be hunting you
&
you’d be gone
that
boy who told me: pass
some
honey from your hive
I
answered: give me some back
on your
tongue
&
he got angry, yelled:
shall
we two sin against the living God?
I
answered: let your sin,
sweet
master, be with me
Translated by Jerome Rothenberg and Harris Lenowitz
From Jerome Rothenberg and Harris
Lenowitz, eds., Exiled in the Word:
Poems & Other Visions of the Jews from Tribal Times to the Present
(Port Townsend, WA: Copper Canyon Press, 1989).
Copyright © 1978, 1989 by Jerome Rothenberg.
Reprinted by permission of the publisher and of Jerome Rothenberg.
۞
THE
MONARCH’S FAVORS
A monarch will not favor you unless he
hopes to be
At ease while you labor and exert yourself
in his service.
You are caught in his tongs: With one hand
he brings you into
The flames,—while protecting you
from the fire which with both hands he sets against you.
Translated
by Leon J. Weinberger
from Leon J. Weinberger, trans.,
Jewish Prince in Moslem
(Tuscaloosa and London: The University of Alabama Press, 1997).
Copyright © 1973 by The
Reprinted by permission of the publisher.
۞
Gazing through the
night and its stars,
or the grass and its bugs,
I know in my heart these swarms
are the craft of surpassing wisdom.
Think: the skies
resemble a tent,
stretched taut by loops
and hooks;
and the moon with its stars,
a shepherdess,
on a meadow
grazing her
flock;
and the crescent hull in the looser clouds
looks like a ship being tossed;
a whiter cloud, a girl
in her garden
tending her shrubs;
and the dew coming down is her sister
shaking water
from her hair
onto the path;
as we
settle in our lives,
like beasts in their ample stalls—
fleeing our terror of death,
like a dove
its
hawk in flight—
though we’ll lie in the end like a
plate,
hammered into dust and
shards.
Translated
by Peter Cole
from Peter Cole, trans., Selected Poems of Shmuel HaNagid
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996).
Copyright © 1996 by
http://press.princeton.edu/titles/5707.html
Reprinted by permission of the publisher.
۞
Behold the cold days have
already passed
And the season of
winter’s rains is buried.
The young turtle-doves are
seen in our land;
They call to one another
from the tips of branches.
Therefore, my companions,
keep the covenant
Of friendship make haste
and do not defy me.
Come to my garden and pluck
The roses whose perfume is
like pure myrrh.
And by the blossoms and
gathering of swallows
Who sing of the good times,
drink ye
Wine in measures like the
tears I shed over parting
With friends and as red as
the faces of blushing lovers.
Translated
by Leon J. Weinberger
from Leon J. Weinberger, trans.,
Jewish Prince in Moslem
(Tuscaloosa and London: The University of Alabama Press, 1997).
Copyright © 1973 by The
Reprinted by permission of the publisher.
۞
The month of ‘Av has
ended even ‘Elul and their heat is gone;
Also Tishri is gathered in and
like them has passed.
Cold days have come and the
new wine
Is red and its voice is
still in the vat.
Therefore my friend, go
among our companions
So that each may do as he
intends.
Some said: Look at the
clouds giving rain
And hear the thunder of the
heavens on high,
And see the frost and the
bonfire’s flame;
One descends while the
other lifts and rises.
Come, drink from the cup
and drink again
From the pitcher, night and
day.
Translated
by Leon J. Weinberger
from Leon J. Weinberger, trans.,
Jewish Prince in Moslem
(Tuscaloosa and London: The University of Alabama Press, 1997).
Copyright © 1973 by The
Reprinted by permission of the publisher.
۞
On the way to see my
brother, when they said that in his illness he is crushed and low
A messenger of evil tidings stood in my
path and was silent.
Whereupon I spoke to him: “Tell me,
why are you still.
Does Isaac live?” He answered:
“He is already dead.”
I replied: “Silence, may dust fill
your mouth!
May you be notified of
every distress and affliction and may your father and mother be bereaved over
you!
Did I not bring a
physician who healed many others like him and sustained them from sickness?
How can he die, the
great one of his age, accepted of the multitude of his brethren and seeking the
welfare of your people,
Perhaps he
sleeps?” He replied: “Will he awake be he prince or pauper who has
fallen ill and died?”
Translated
by Leon J. Weinberger
from Leon J. Weinberger, trans.,
Jewish Prince in Moslem
(Tuscaloosa and London: The University of Alabama Press, 1997).
Copyright © 1973 by The
Reprinted by permission of the publisher.
۞
Lo, I return with my spirit in torment
May God have mercy upon you, my brother!
A day ago I buried you
But even now my complaint is bitter.
Greetings I bring you! Do you not hear
When I call to you with all my might?
Answer me: Do you not recognize
The response of my crying lament?
Are your bones starting to wither
And your teeth loosening in the jaw?
Has your moistness fled in the night
Even as mine is running in my tears?
O first born of my father, I have left you
As security in the hand of my Creator
Whose assurance I trust
That you will go in peace.
Translated
by Leon J. Weinberger
from Leon J. Weinberger,
Jewish Prince in Moslem
(Tuscaloosa and London: The University of Alabama Press, 1997).
Copyright © 1973 by The
Reprinted by permission of the publisher.
۞
On one of his journeys, he passed
by his brother’s burial-place. There he paused and addressed him as
follows:
Is there a sea between me and you, that I
should not turn aside to be with you, that I should not run with a troubled
heart to sit at your grave-side? Truly, if I did not do so, I would be a
traitor to our brotherly love. O my brother, here I am, facing you, sitting by
your grave, and the grief in my heart is as great as on the day you died. If I
greeted you, I would hear no reply. You do not come out to meet me when I visit
your grounds. You will not laugh in my company, nor I in yours. You cannot see
my face, nor I yours, for the pit is your home, the grave your dwelling-place!
First-born of my father, son of my mother, may you have peace in your final
rest, and may the spirit of God rest upon your spirit and your soul! I am
returning to my own soil, for you have been locked under the soil. Sometimes I
shall sleep, sometimes wake—while you lie in your sleep forever. But
until my last day, the fire of your loss will remain in my heart!
Translated by T. Carmi
from The Penguin Book of Hebrew Verse, edited by T. Carmi
(Allen Lane, 1981). Copyright ©
T. Carmi, 1981.
Build me up like a tower on the heights of
your sanctuary,
And set me like a seal upon your heart.
Make me drunk with the blood of the foe on
the day of war
And satisfy me with his flesh on the night
of redemption.
Place the cup of salvation upon my right
hand
That my tongue may give voice in joy to a
song of love.
For nearly a thousand years I have
declared my sorrow
With many tears and with fasting,—will
You not answer me?
Translated
by Leon J. Weinberger
from Leon J. Weinberger, trans.,
Jewish Prince in Moslem
(Tuscaloosa and London: The University of Alabama Press, 1997).
Copyright © 1973 by The
Reprinted by permission of the publisher.
۞
She
said: “Be happy that God has helped you reach
The age
of fifty in this world,” not knowing
That to
me there is no difference between my life’s
Past
and that of Noah about whom I heard.
For me
there is only the hour in which I am present in this world:
It
stays for a moment and then like a cloud moves on.
Translated by Leon J. Weinberger
from Leon J. Weinberger, trans.,
Jewish
Prince in Moslem
(Tuscaloosa and London: The University of Alabama Press, 1997).
Copyright © 1973 by The
Reprinted by permission of the publisher.
۞
ON FLEEING HIS CITY
And this in his youth on leaving
Spirit
splits in its asking,
and
soul in its wanting is balked;
and
the body, fattened, is vital
and full—
its precious being uneasy . . .
But
the modest man
walks on the earth with his