Paper Bridges: Selected Poems of Kadya Molodowsky

Jeremiah

Jeremiah I When my heart grows so full of heaviness That my legs can't hold my body any more, I want to fall onto my hands and knees, Howling windily, down on all fours Like an animal that knows not why Or for whom— It's then, like milk upon the lips, That several names come: The first one is sweet—Jeremiah. His body, like a tree burned through by thunder, Is blackened and wasted, With lips that have not drunk any sun But bitter water. His arms—opened their full length with the wind In eternal asking, a refrain, Like branches needing to blossom That wait for rain.79 263 H ]§ixn ix D W t?§xn oxn ,iara i j n fx O^TIJI ]ix - lyOKYl DXl T ^ X D^il pX TI ixs 'I1 ] , 264 II Jeremiah, your head frightens like a cloud, Your hands over it Like two white moons, On your neck the yoke has dug a lying-place As deep as a trough,80 And pain all the way into your heart. Your legs, like the legs of a camel With no hope of throwing its burden And the desert is huge, And water is far— These are your legs, Jeremiah. And the ashes Are ready for you And the sacks, And the body like a tree Awaiting the ax. 265 irnifra ixs ^ T w s x nynyn H i$a x^na njn jnywa p ^ ^ix D^XID •w» ps ^XD Dyi nyo^n x ^ix nyo^p ijn DSX1 ?^ yDj;S lyaiyayr x ^n ^ T» onyo^p Dyi *?a m^T .5xp ny^TO ^yo^n x ^X va psnvo ]ix 7T 266 Ill At night, the doors are closed, But hearts are open, ready for news. On bitter lips the prophet brings The day of doom. The moon above the city is like a silver fan. The emperor sleeps on a white, ivory bed. When Jeremiah stands at the emperor's door, The moon becomes a white death's-head. The emperor awakens. His teeth are sharp. They gleam. Jeremiah stands transfixed, next to his bed. When the emperor wants to take his lance in hand, He sees—his hand is dead. 267 •rrnro-rna pt trattiynn w piya ,try7in pi px pnxa njn t»»» •naina nyDy^nS x fK IKS ijrnri • m ^p^wyx nyr^n DJ; pt tra Diyn waT piya nya^x pS p^o iyr-n oanpys ny^a .n^ix^ px oaip pr 268 IV Above the markets Jeremiah speaks with melancholy.81 The market dances in its roundness, In a joyous riot.82 Panicking, the houses seem like cows before the slaughter, And mouths like caves, And tongues like sullied bells.83 Joyous coins are jingling In the hands of merchants,84 But melancholy is lingering, Livid as blue bruises85 Underneath the paltry shirt of a beggar. Women cook the rendered fat of cattle In pots upon the joyous fire, But a darkness hangs above the doorways, And in the cracks and crevices of houses. Above the markets Jeremiah speaks with melancholy. Words suffocate in muteness, Like shouting in a dream. Like drunken mouths, the doors of the capital are smirkingBen Azzur recites prophecy:86 O, peace unto you, peace, The sun is coming and redemption.87 269 pr vraT px *mj7-p ,]x oy tn&'o njni ,0^^ f^K rx D^po^n TK px p5 ps ^n^yi T^K nyca pK -my-p IX nyani pixifo px pa p§ naix ^ix ^ v^ysya onxivo px pntnxs y*? x »^B^ X DXH; D px .orn ^a rx ,DXD^ pa rx - ^ "psnsna y^x px -P nran 270 This is how Jeremiah curses his day: Hananiah ben Azzur in clothes of white silk, Since white is the same, no matter who wears it, And silk is much smoother upon a fat body. Though comfort is sweeter, And the shout of pain, bitter, An echo answers all words alike. Hananiah ben Azzur in clothes of white silk. Graves are awaiting my own body's brightness, And capture awaits my own heart's disquiet, A city has exiled a lion And is left with dogs. Anathoth—is my...