On That Night
Dear friends,
Some history of, and a poem by the great Jerusalem poet, Zelda.
"The Ukranian-born Israeli Orthodox poet Zelda Schneersohn-Mishkovsky, better known as Zelda (1914-1984), belonged to a lineage of illustrious rabbis. Her father, Shelomoh Shalom Schneersohn, descended from the prominent Schneersohn dynasty of Chabad hasidic masters, and was the uncle of the late rebbe of Lubavitch, R. Menahem Mendel Schneersohn (1902-1994). Her mother, Rachel Hen, was a descendant of the famed Sephardic dynasty of Hen-Gracian, which traces its roots to eleventh-century Barcelona, Spain. Her maternal grandfather's grandfather, R. Elhanan ben Meir ben R. Elhanan, was a student of R. Shneur Zalman of Lyadi (1745-1812), the founder of Habad Hasidism. In 1925 the family emigrated to Mandatory Palestine and settled in Jerusalem, a move followed by the traumatic death of both the poet's father and grandfather. Following her graduation from the Teachers' College of the religious Mizrahi movement in 1932, Zelda moved to Tel Aviv and then to Haifa, where she taught until her return, with her twice-widowed mother, to Jerusalem in 1935. In 1950 she married Hayyim Mishkovsky and from then on devoted herself to writing. Although she began writing in the 1930s, and publishing in the 1940s, Penai (Free Time), her first book, was not published until 1967. The book, with its rich emotive and contemplative images drawn from the world of Jewish mysticism, Hasidism, and Russian fairy tales, immediately established the poet as a major figure on the Israeli literary scene, popular with both religious and secular audiences."
I hope you enjoy one of these poems from her first book. The original Hebrew is below.
On That Night
On that night,
as I sat alone in the still
courtyard,
and gazed at the stars--
I resolved in my heart--
I almost took a vow--
to devote every evening
one moment,
a single tiny moment,
to this shining beauty.
It would seem
that there is nothing easier than this,
simpler than this,
still I haven't kept up
my oath
to myself.
Why?
Surely I've already discovered
that my mind carries to its palaces
the sights I see,
like that bird that carries in its beak
straw, feathers and dirt to repair the nest.
Surely I've already discovered that my thought
uses (if it doesn't have anything else)
even my ailments
to build towers.
That it uses my neighbor's
ailments,
and the paper rolling in the courtyard,
and the cat's footsteps,
and the vacant look of the vendor,
and that verse quivering among the pages of the book,
and out of all this, yes, out of all this,
out of all this, makes me.
Why haven't I kept my oath
to myself?
Did I not believe
that if I gazed one tiny moment
at the heights of the starry skies,
my mind would carry to the palace
the light of the constellations.
Did I not believe
that if I gazed so
night after night,
the stars would
slowly slowly
become my neighbors.
The stars would become
my kinsmen.
The stars would become
my children.
Why haven't I kept my oath to myself?
Did I forget
how envious I was of the seafarers
and of those whose house was by the ocean shore.
For I said in my haste
the fresh sea breeze
penetrates their lives,
the fresh sea breeze penetrates their thoughts; the fresh breeze
penetrates their relationships with their neighbours
and their relationships with their family members.
It glitters in their eyes
and plays with their movements.
For I said in my haste
their deeds are measured
by the measure of the sea
and not that of the human street,
not that of the human alley.
For I said in my haste,
they see eye to eye
God's works
and feel His presence
without our barriers,
without our distractions.
I wept constantly
for I was imprisoned
among the walls of the house,
among the street walls,
among the walls of the city,
among the walls
of the mountains.
On that night, when I sat alone
in the silent courtyard,
I discovered suddenly
that my house too was built on the shore,
that I live on the bank of the moon
and the constellations,
on the bank of sunrises and sunsets.
בלילה ההוא
זלדה
בַּלַּיְלָה הַהוּא
כַּאֲשֶׁר יָשַׁבְתִּי לְבַדִּי בֶּחָצֵר
הַדּוֹמֶמֶת
וְהִתְבּוֹנַנְתִּי אֶל הַכּוֹכָבִים -
הֶחְלַטְתִּי בְּלִבִּי,
כִּמְעַט נָדַרְתִּי נֶדֶר -
לְהַקְדִּישׁ עֶרֶב-עֶרֶב
רֶגַע אֶחָד,
רֶגַע קָט וְיָחִיד
לַיֹּפִי הַזֶּה הַזּוֹרֵחַ.
נִדְמֶה
שֶׁאֵין לְךָ דָּבָר קַל מִזֶּה,
פָּשׁוּט מִזֶּה,
בְּכָל זֹאת לֹא קִּיַּמְתִי
אֶת שְׁבוּעָתִי
לִי.
מַדּוּעַ?
הֲלֹא גִּלִּיתִי כְּבָר
שֶׁמַּחֲשַׁבְתִּי נוֹשֵׂאת אֶל אַרְמוֹנֶיהָ,
אֶת מַרְאֶה עֵינַי,
כְּאוֹתָהּ צִפּוֹר שֶׁנּוֹשֵׂאת בְּמַקּוֹרָהּ
קַשׁ, נוֹצוֹת וּסְחִי לְבֶדֶק הַקֵּן.
הֲלֹא גִּלִּיתִי כְּבָר שֶׁמַּחֲשַׁבְתִּי
נוֹטֶלֶת (אִם אֵין לָהּ דָּבָר אַחֵר)
אֲפִלּוּ אֶת מֵחוֹשַׁי
לַעֲשׂוֹת מִזֶּה מִגְדָּלִים.
שֶׁהִיא נוֹטֶלֶת אֶת מֵחוֹשֶׁיהָ
שֶׁל שְׁכֶנְתִּי,
וְאֶת הַנְּיָר שֶׁמִתְגּוֹלֵל בֶּחָצֵר,
וְאֶת פְּסִיעוֹת הֶחָתוּל
וְאֶת מַבָּטוֹ הָרֵיק שֶׁל הַמּוֹכֵר,
וְאוֹתוֹ פָּסוּק שֶׁפִּרְפֵּר בֵּין דַּפֵּי הַסֵּפֶר
וְעוֹשָׂה מִכָּל זֶה אוֹתִי,
כֵּן מִכָּל זֶה. מִכָּל זֶה.
מַדּוּעַ לֹא קִּיַּמְתִי אֶת שְׁבוּעָתִי
לִי?
הֵן הֶאֱמַנְתִּי
שֶׁאִם אַבִּיט רֶגַע קָט וְיָחִיד
אֶל גָּבְהֵי שָׁמַיִם-מְכֻכָּבִים,
תִּשָּׂא מַּחֲשַׁבְתִּי אֶל הָאַרְמוֹן
אֶת אוֹר הַמַּזָּלוֹת.
הֵן הֶאֱמַנְתִּי
שֶׁאִם אַבִּיט כָּךְ
לַיְלָה אַחֵר לַיְלָה,
יֵהָפְכוּ הַכּוֹכָבִים
אַט-אַט
לִשְׁכֵנַי.
יֵהָפְכוּ הַכּוֹכָבִים
לִקְרוֹבַי.
יֵהָפְכוּ הַכּוֹכָבִים
לִילָדַי.
מַדּוּעַ לֹא קִּיַּמְתִי
אֶת שְׁבוּעָתִי לִי?
כְּלוּם שָׁכָחְתִּי
מַה מְּקַנְאָה הָיִיתִי בְּיוֹרְדֵי-הַיָּם
וּבְאֵלֶּה שֶׁבֵּיתָם עַל חוֹף הָאוֹקְיָנוֹס.
כִּי אָמַרְתִּי בְחָפְזִי
הָרוּחַ הָרַעֲנַנָּה שֶׁל הַיָּם
חוֹדֶרֶת לְחַיֵּיהֶם,
הָרוּחַ הָרַעֲנַנָּה שֶׁל הַיָּם
חוֹדֶרֶת לְמַחְשְׁבוֹתֵיהֶם, הָרוּחַ הָרַעֲנַנָּה
חוֹדֶרֶת לְיַחֲסֵיהֶם עִם שְׁכֵנֵיהֶם
וּלְיַחֲסֵיהֶם עִם בְּנֵי מִשְׁפַּחְתָּם.
הִיא מְנַצְנֶצֶת בְּעֵינֵיהֶם
וּמְשַׂחֶקֶת בִּתְנוּעוֹתֵיהֶם.
כִּי אָמַרְתִּי בְחָפְזִי
אַמַּת-הַמִּדָּה לַמעֲשֵׂיהֶם
הִיא אַמַּת-הַמִּדָּה שֶׁל הַיָּם וְתִפְאַרְתּוֹ
וְלֹא זוֹ שֶׁל הָרְחוֹב הָאֱנוֹשִי
וְלֹא זוֹ שֶׁל הַסִּמְטָה הָאֱנוֹשִית.
כִּי אָמַרְתִּי בְחָפְזִי
רוֹאִים הֵם עַיִן בְּעַיִן
אֶת מַעֲשֵׂי אֱלֹהִים
וְחָשִׁים בִּמְצִיאוּתוֹ
בְּלִי הַמְּחִצּוֹת שֶׁלָּנוּ,
בְּלִי הֶסַּח-הַדַּעַת שֶׁלָּנוּ.
בָּכִיתִי תָּמִיד
שֶׁכְּלוּאָה הִנְנִי
בֵּין הַכְּתָלִים שֶׁל הַבַּיִת,
בֵּין כָּתְלִי הָרְחוֹב
בֵּין הַכְּתָלִים שֶׁל הָעִיר,
בֵּין הַכְּתָלִים
שֶׁל הֶהָרִים.
בַּלַּיְלָה הַהוּא כּשֶׁיָּשַׁבְתִּי לְבַדִּי
בֶּחָצֵר הַדּוֹמֶמֶת
גִּלִּיתִי פִּתְאֹם
שָׁאַף בֵּיתִי בָּנוּי עַל הַחוֹף,
שֶׁחַיָּה אֲנִי עַל שְׂפַת הַיָּרֵחַ
וְהַמַּזָּלוֹת,
עַל שְׂפַת הַזְּרִיחוֹת וְהַשּׁקִיעוֹת.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Misha