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Lamentations of a Lovelorn Soul:
Self-portraits in the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch
by
Laura Wiseman
A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements
for the degree of Ph.D. Hebrew Language and Literature
Near and Middle Eastern Civilizations
University of Toronto
© Copyright by Laura Wiseman 2010
Lamentations of a Lovelorn Soul:
Self-portraits in the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch
Laura Wiseman
Ph.D. Hebrew Language and Literature
Near and Middle Eastern Civilizations
University of Toronto
2010
Abstract
The poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch presents as self-writing nestled in the wide embrace of
non-linear écriture féminine. Each poem offers a glimpse of the persona: body and soul,
the music of her voice and the perspective of her spirit. Together the poems comprise
verbal self-portraits of a lovelorn soul, torn between impulses to fully remember and
deliberately forget.
Through years of love, life, disappointment, bouts of depression and renewed promise,
Dahlia Ravikovitch continued to compose. Through the crystals of poetry the speaker
examines, from varying angles and in multiple refractions of light, those figures of
alterity who are her self. For Ravikovitch poetry was the only neutral space in which her
self could comfortably exist and, even so, not always.
The poet-persona experiences love in unsuitable proportions. She receives too little;
she goes ‘overboard’ and ‘out of bounds’ in giving too much. She experiences love,
even when accessible, as an affliction. She suffers love. She laments love.
ii
The persona performs her malaise through contrasting physical sensations,
idiosyncrasies and profound cravings. Her personal thermostat is erratic. She exhibits
pronounced wardrobe-predilections. Her throat reacts to a flow of eros and creative
vitality or lack thereof. She yearns for pure memory and thirsts for pure essence.
The speaker’s gallery displays an elaborate montage of a golden apple endowed with
gifts of wisdom, eros, poetry and passion, alongside portraits of a royal chanteuse and a
skilled scribe. Crucial brushstrokes illuminate lovers and sinners, souls in flames,
shipwrecks, lyric-expressive throats in various states of constriction and release, as well
as voices of collective responsibility.
Ravikovitch encrypts her poetry with rich resources of biblical, rabbinic, medieval and
early modern Hebrew literature. She forwards the linguistic and literary resonance of
these layers. She innovates upon their motifs through feats in the dimensions of
feminine writing, intertextual engagements and postmodern poetics.
iii
Acknowledgments
It really does ‘take a village’ to educate individuals and support their pursuits. I would
like to thank the following significant ‘villagers’ for their teaching, care and help:
Professor Harry Fox for promoting wide-angled perspectives in connecting modern
Hebrew literature to its underpinnings in sifrut hazal, especially Talmud and Midreshei
aggada;
Professor Tirzah Meacham for sharing her approaches to a wealth of classical texts,
including Jerusalem and Babylonian Talmudim, Midreshei halakha and Palestinian
Aramaic targumim;
Professor Libby Garshowitz for her ever-present support and invaluable advice; her
passion for Hebrew language and literature of all eras has nourished my own love of
Hebrew poetry and belles lettres;
Professors Tamar Hess of Hebrew University of Jerusalem and Hamutal Tsamir of Ben
Gurion University of the Negev, who each met with me and compared notes on bestloved older and newer articles, including their own, about the poetry of Dahlia
Ravikovitch;
Professor Ilana Szobel for pointing me in the right direction for reading and for leaving
the door open for future consultation;
Ido Kalir for generously sharing his memories and impressions of his mother, Dahlia
Ravikovitch;
Ira Garshowitz, whose professionalism and sociability as a journalist opened many
doors for my research appointments in Israel;
Andrea and Charles Bronfman for supporting those endeavours;
iv
Nahman Raz, Rut Ziv and Miryam Gil of Qevutzat Geva for their candid recollections of
Dahlia Ravikovitch and family;
Orly Castel-Bloom for her anecdotes about friendship and editing with Dahlia
Ravikovitch, as well as their mutual appreciation for the musicality of language;
Yael Dayan for her vital support for the artist and for introducing me to Orly;
Billi and Carmit, of Israel’s Channel One Archives, who facilitated the retrieval and
screening of Ravikovitch’s television interviews;
Miriam Bessin, a former student, now colleague in the field of Jewish Education, who
painstakingly vocalized the Hebrew poetry;
Anna Sousa, whose refined manner and good graces are the public face of NMC;
My daughter Rachel, who worked alongside me on winter days with a computer missing
its “e”;
My son Noah, who surprised me with a big blue wagon to haul all the library books;
My mother Marcy, whose encouragement has been unflagging from as far away as her
archaeological field-work in the Dakhleh Oasis;
My father Yona, zikhrono li-verakha, who insisted on U of T; even when his strength was
dwindling, he would send me home to do schoolwork;
Aharon, aharon, vetamid haviv, Barry, behir libbi, whose gentle soul, quick wit and
understanding heart have made this work possible.
v
Dahlia Ravikovitch: About the Poet
Dahlia Ravikovitch was born in 1936 to Mikhal and Levi Ravikovitch. Mikhal was a
teacher whose family had lived in one of the earliest homes built in the Me’a She‘arim
1
area of Jerusalem. Levi, né Leo, was an engineer who had made his way to Israel from
Russia following a sojourn in China.
Dahlia Ravikovitch spent her early childhood in Ramat Gan. At age six she became the
big sister of brothers Amiram and Ahiqam. Barely six months later, Dahlia’s father was
struck down by a drunk driver, a fact kept concealed from the child for approximately
two years. Well-meaning friends convinced Mikhal that it would then be easier to raise
her family in the supportive environment of a kibbutz.
Kibbutz Geva became home to the family. Nahman Raz, former member of Israel’s
parliament, now kibbutz librarian and archivist, had recently finished the Geva jubilee
book when he used it to take me on a visual tour of the family’s history at the kibbutz.
Mikhal worked in the kibbutz school and was known there as a colourful character who
made a few waves in her time. The twins were the subjects of much attention and
affection, and adjusted easily to their new surroundings. Dahlia had a much more
difficult time entering the zealously guarded social circle, routine, and work ethic of
kibbutz society. She was held at arm’s length as yelidat hutz – one born outside of the
kibbutz precincts. The delayed traumatic discovery of her father’s death, her artistic,
sometimes dreamy demeanour, as well as issues with the conformity called for by
2
kibbutz life, all contributed to Ravikovitch’s extreme discomfort in that setting.
1
This information emerged from an interview of Ido Kalir that I conducted in Neve Tzedeq on July 28,
2008: [DR Interview: Ido Kalir].
2
This information emerged from an interview of Nahman Raz [DR Interview: Nahman Raz] that I
conducted in the library of Kibbutz Geva [Qevutzat Geva] on July 31, 2008. Also in attendance were
Rut Ziv and Miryam Gil. I retained a digitally recorded sound file with their permission. Rut had worked
in the kibbutz school office during Mikhal’s work there. Miryam, a year older than the poet, had been in
the same group as Dahlia Ravikovitch for kibbutz activities. She recalled that Dahlia enjoyed Israeli
folk dancing.
vi
Newspaper reportage printed in August 2006, the summer of the poet’s first yahrtzeit,
3
coincides with the content of some not-entirely-fictional short stories that Dahlia
produced: Ravikovitch suffered distressing treatment at the hands of a kibbutz adult
who promoted escalation of social sanctions against her by her peers, and robbed her
4
of a voice in personal matters. By the age of thirteen Ravikovitch left the kibbutz and
spent her adolescence in the care of several foster families in Haifa. Following truncated
service in the Israel Defense Forces, Dahlia attended university and came into her own
as a poet and writer, lover and mother.
Dahlia Ravikovitch was well-read in the classics of the Hebrew literary canon,
particularly bible. She gained access to some aggadic and some halakhic literature of
the Sages through commentaries and conventional compendia. She learned the
Hebrew poetry of Golden Age Spain, as well as bible commentaries and philosophy of
that era. She was fully conversant with the work of early modern Hebrew poets and
writers such as Bialik, the work of earlier colleagues such as Leah Goldberg, Rachel
and Esther Raab, and the poetry of contemporaries such as Yehuda Amichai, Yona
Wallach and Natan Zach.
Ravikovitch’s reading encompassed Greek mythology and the legends of the far-east.
She was also well acquainted with a collage of belles lettres and literary criticism in
English ranging from the work of Shakespeare to that of Yeats, from T.S. Eliot to
Antoine de Saint Exupéry; from Emily Dickenson to Scottish ballads, not to mention fairy
tales and operas. Ravikovitch’s knowledge of world literature is clearly far-reaching. She
was as ‘at home’ with a biblical hapax legomenon as she was with postmodern literary
theory. Her own writing spans more than five decades.
Dahlia is survived by a charming son Ido who recalls her love and honours her memory.
From the cozy corner booth of his favourite haunt in Neve Tzedeq, Ido Kalir depicted his
early childhood memories of a creative mother whom he described as determined and
3
Yahrtzeit is a Yiddish term for the annual commemoration of an individual’s date of death.
4
See for example: Dahlia Ravikovitch, “Ha-tribunal shel ha-hofesh ha-gadol,” [“The Summer Vacation
Tribunal,”] Mavet ba-mishpaha [A Death in the Family] (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1982) 34-65.
vii
dramatic. He also spoke of Savta Mikhal’s wealth of bible narratives and aggadic stories
told at bedtime. About two decades further along, Ido found himself pleased and awed
by his mother’s ease in generating conversation with his friends whom she encountered
while visiting her son in New York. Apparently she invited them to meet and talk even
when Ido was otherwise occupied. Lest we think Dahlia Ravikovitch was the only
innovative soul in the family, Ido learned some artistic magic as a movie animator. His
mother detected the scent of ‘vanilla’ in Hyde Park;5 Ido managed to ‘make it snow’ in
Central Park!
Ido’s best-loved poem was difficult to pin down. He likes Ba-tor la-hatzaga [In Line at
the Theatre] because it reminds him of the almost-telepathic connection between
mother and son. He likes Historya shel ha-perat6 in which the poet recalls the voice of
Yitzhak Livni delivering a sober ‘reality check’: “You have a son / You have time and you
have poetry.”7 Ido likes Hitrosheshut8 [Impoverishment] because it accords with his
mother’s theatrical flair. He indicated ‘Im Peqihat ‘Einayim9 as emblematic of
Ravikovitch’s desperation. In turning the pages of poetry, Ido paused fondly upon
seeing Hemda,
10
her insignia of love. The link that emblazoned these poems in Ido’s
memory was Dahlia’s “way of experiencing everything to its full extent.”
11
Ido recalled
his mother telling him that poets live at “high risk like divers […] because of their
12
sensitivity to words, because of how intensely they experience words.”
Orly Castel-Bloom concurs not only about sensitivity to words, but about the poet’s
sensitivity to the anguish of day to day living. She related that the only time the sentient
ache was dispelled was when Ravikovitch was writing. Castel-Bloom shared an
5
Dahlia Ravikovitch, “Shiveron lev ba-gan,” [“Heartbreak in the Park,”] Kol ha-shirim ‘ad ko (Tel Aviv:
Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1995) 91-92. Henceforth: Ravikovitch, Kol ha-shirim.
6
Ravikovitch, “Historya shel ha-perat,” [“Personal History,”] Kol ha-shirim, 305.
7
Loc. cit.
8
Ravikovitch, “Hitrosheshut,” Kol ha-shirim,174.
9
Ravikovitch, “‘Im Peqihat ‘Einayim,” [“Upon Waking,”]Kol ha-shirim, 304.
10
Ravikovitch, “Hemda,” [“Desire”; “Delight,”] Kol ha-shirim, 47.
11
Laura Wiseman, “DR Interview: Ido Kalir,” Neve Tzedeq, July 27, 2008.
12
Loc. cit.
viii
anecdote about editing Ravikovitch’s book of short stories, Ba’a ve-halekha
13
[She Came
and She Went]. She found it amusing that the two writers, whom she described as
innately incapable of haggling over price in the local bazaar, ran the editing process like
bartering. Dahlia insisted that the editing take place face to face and aloud so that she
could ensure the musicality of the language; Orly ‘allowed’ her friend to retain specific
wordings ‘in exchange for’ certain adjustments or deletions.14
It is my hope that generations of readers will continue to ‘experience’ and celebrate the
musicality and depth of the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch.
13
Dahlia Ravikovitch, Ba’a ve-halekha [She Came and Went], ed. Orly Castel-Bloom (Moshav Ben
Shemen: Modan, 2005).
14
This information emerged from an interview of Orly Castel-Bloom that I conducted at her home in Tel
Barukh on August 14, 2008.
ix
Photograph of Dahlia Ravikovitch
by Dina Guna
with permission of Ido Kalir
x
Table of Contents
Abstract
........................................................................................................................ ii
Acknowledgments........................................................................................................... iv
Dahlia Ravikovitch: About the Poet................................................................................. vi
Photograph of Dahlia Ravikovitch ....................................................................................x
Table of Contents............................................................................................................ xi
Notes about Translation, Transliteration and Abbreviations........................................... xv
Translation................................................................................................................. xv
Transliteration............................................................................................................ xv
Abbreviations............................................................................................................ xix
List of Appendices.......................................................................................................... xx
Introduction ......................................................................................................................1
I.
Preamble: Self-portraits in the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch..................................1
II. Major Themes of Ravikovitch’s Self-portraits.........................................................2
III. Outline of Existing Research on the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch .......................10
IV. Methodology for Examination of Prismatic Self-Portraiture: Motifs and Means ...18
V. Contents of the Chapters.....................................................................................20
Chapter One
Dahlia Ravikovitch: Lamenting Poet....................................................24
1.1 Preamble .............................................................................................................24
1.2 Lament: An Ancient Art Form and Honoured Profession .....................................24
1.3 Lament as Protest: ‘Exerting Voice’ In the Face of Injustice ................................25
1.4 Modern Hebrew Lament Poetry ...........................................................................27
1.5 An Equitable Calculus of Voices in the Face of Injustice .....................................37
1.6 The Need for Contemporary Laments: To Revive the Spoken Word and
Reconstruct Worlds .............................................................................................37
1.7 Summary: Lamenting Soul ..................................................................................39
xi
1.8 Dahlia Ravikovitch: Lamenting Lovelorn Soul......................................................39
Chapter Two
Faint With Love: Poetry As Self-writing ..............................................40
2.1 Preface ................................................................................................................40
2.2 Self-writing...........................................................................................................40
2.3 Lovelorn Persona.................................................................................................42
2.4 Construction of Self in Retrospect: Persona with a Lacuna .................................48
2.5 Performance of Self in the Moment: Persona as Poet .........................................56
2.6 Construction of Self in Prospect: Deconstruction of Self and Self-destruction.....63
2.7 Summary: Poetry as Self-writing..........................................................................69
2.8 Conclusion: Lovelorn Persona .............................................................................69
Chapter Three Being the Apple: Forwarded Conventions of Biblical and Medieval
Hebrew Literature in Modern Hebrew Poetry ................................................71
3.1 The Love of a Golden Apple ................................................................................71
3.2 A Golden Apple Endowed with Precious Gifts .....................................................83
3.3 Summary ...........................................................................................................104
Chapter Four
Figure of Royalty and a Skilled Scribe: Descent into Eros, Descent
into Writing ..................................................................................................106
4.1 Preface ..............................................................................................................106
4.2 Central Self-portrait of the Oeuvre: Portrait .......................................................107
4.3 Construction of Self: Performing Bios ................................................................109
4.4 Intertextual Encryption of Self: Figure of Royalty, Skilled Scribe .......................111
4.5 Performance of a Self with Malaise: Contrasts, Constraints and Cravings ........119
4.6 Vanilla Unveiled .................................................................................................122
4.7 Natural Resources of a Lovelorn Poet-persona.................................................127
4.8 Convergence of Eros and Creative Vitality: Portraits of a Throat.......................140
4.9 Summary ...........................................................................................................143
Chapter Five
Persona on Fire: Portrait of a Shipwreck .......................................144
xii
5.1 Hitrosheshut – Impoverishment: Background.....................................................144
5.2 Poem Structure: Sense Units and Sound Units .................................................146
5.3 Impoverishment, Desolate Land and Sailing Away............................................150
5.4 Additional Models of Escape .............................................................................154
5.5 From Ships to Shipwreck in Boundless Waters .................................................158
5.6 Scrolls on Fire....................................................................................................161
5.7 Flames and Waters............................................................................................164
5.8 Beckoning Thanatos at the Heart of the Sea .....................................................169
5.9 Flame-inducing Brushstroke ..............................................................................176
5.10 Summary .........................................................................................................178
Chapter Six
Voice of Responsibility..................................................................179
6.1 Preamble to Portrayal of a Voice .......................................................................179
6.2 Speaking of Your Enemy’s Ass: Moral Bankruptcy............................................180
6.3 ‘Egla ‘arufa – Ancient Israelite Ceremony of Atonement....................................185
6.4 Escaping Lifeblood: Fragility of Life and Airborne Particles ...............................189
6.5 Intertextual Nexus in the Canon of Modern Hebrew Poetry: Between Bialik
and Ravikovitch .................................................................................................192
6.6 Empathy for an Unwitting Victim: Additional Intertexts in Classical Jewish
Sources .............................................................................................................195
6.7 Defamiliarization in the Dénouement .................................................................199
6.8 Another Understanding: Hermeneutic Lag.........................................................201
6.9 Summary: Voice of Responsibility .....................................................................203
Chapter Seven
Summoning Memory and Deliberate Forgetting ..........................204
7.1 Preamble ...........................................................................................................204
7.2 Descent into the Writing Process: Vertical Descent and Sensory Acuity;
Factoring in Features and Blotting Out Faces ...................................................207
7.3 Semantic Range Study: “tamim” ........................................................................210
xiii
7.4 A ‘Pure’ Personal Memory: Wholly Completed and Wholly Depleted ................213
7.5 A ‘Perfect’ Collective Memory: Faces and Facets .............................................215
7.6 Summary ...........................................................................................................218
Summary ....................................................................................................................221
8.1 Lamenting Poet .................................................................................................221
8.2 Lamenting Lovelorn Soul ...................................................................................221
8.3 Kindred Spirit of the Lover of the Song of Songs: “For I am sick with love.” ......221
8.4 Rare Equilibrium: Eros.......................................................................................222
8.5 Existential Malaise: A Gaping Void ....................................................................222
8.6 Convergence of Eros and Creative Vitality ........................................................223
8.7 Estranged Soul: Fiery Shipwreck in Endless Waters .........................................223
8.8 Prismatic Self-portraiture: Means and Motifs .....................................................223
8.9 Afterword ...........................................................................................................227
8.10 For Further Study.............................................................................................227
Bibliography .................................................................................................................228
Appendices ..................................................................................................................246
Appendix A
Babylonian Talmud Yevamot 121a: Boundless Waters............246
Appendix B
Overview of a Semantic Range Study of ‫ ָתּ ִמים‬in Masoretic
Text With Reference to its Counterpart ‫ ְש ִלים‬and Parallels in Palestinian
Aramaic Targumic Texts....................................................................................248
Appendix C
Full Hebrew Poems by Dahlia Ravikovitch Corresponding to
Excerpts Quoted in Hebrew: alphabetically by title or by first line of untitled
works
.....................................................................................................253
Appendix D
Full Hebrew Poems by Amichai, Bialik and Cohen
Corresponding to Excerpts Quoted in Hebrew: alphabetically by poets’ last
names in Hebrew..............................................................................................282
xiv
Notes about Translation, Transliteration and Abbreviations
Translation
Unless otherwise noted, translations to English of classical Hebrew sources and belles
lettres are my work. The translations of full poems and excerpts are working translations
in progress. They are meant to be faithful to the original texts, despite the linguistic
losses sustained in the language-transition. On the one hand, the result is sometimes
less than musical. On the other, I manage to retain concepts, or threads that lead to
concepts, arising from previous layers of Hebrew language and literature: biblical,
rabbinic, medieval and early modern Hebrew. These are frequently the focus of my
contributions to the research on the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch.
Transliteration
With some exceptions the transliteration in this study follows the pattern to be shown
below. In general Hebrew names, titles, publishers and terms that appear in italicized
English characters are transliterations according to the pattern to be outlined below.
Hebrew words that appear in vertical, non-italicized English characters comprise
published exceptions; that is, Hebrew words that appear in vertical, non-italicized
English characters are published transliterations of names, publishing companies or
fossilized spellings that have taken hold over the centuries. Transliterated titles of
books, journals and newspapers will remain in italics, whether these are published
transliterations or formulated by myself.
Publishers have, for example, published the name of the poet variously as “Dalia”,
“Dahlia”, and “Daliya” and her last name as “Rabikovitch” and “Ravikovitch”. The poet’s
son has indicated that his mother poet spelled her name “Dahlia Ravikovitch” in English
despite what is printed. Her name will be spelled properly, wherever the context permits.
In English language journalism, Qevutzat Geva is called and spelled variously “Kevutzat
Geva” and “Kibbutz Geva”. Ha-’aretz, an Israeli daily newspaper, for example, publishes
its English language segments as “Haaretz”. The publishing company called Ha-qibbutz
ha-me’uhad, for example, prints its commercial name as “Hakibbutz Hameuchad”. Poets
Amihai and Bialiq have been published for years as “Amichai” and “Bialik”, respectively.
xv
The title of the biblical book of Jonah is commonly spelled with an “h” at its conclusion.
To reiterate, published names will largely be left as they appear in print. This gesture is
for ease of retrieval on the part of readers and researchers.
English consonants are doubled to parallel a dagesh hazaq other than for the letter shin
and after definite articles and particles. The definite article “ha”, the conjunctive vav “ve”
or “va”, particles [’otiyot ha-shimush] and prefixed-prepositions are joined to the
beginnings of words with a hyphen: ha-tapuah, ba-gan. The letter “hei” at the end of a
word is only recorded when representing “mapiq-hei”. ’Aleph and ‘ayin are not shown in
transliteration when they appear at the ends of words. In instances where ’aleph
functions as part of a diphthong, such as in the word bevadai, it is not represented in the
transliteration.
xvi
Consonants
Transliteration
Hebrew
’
‫א‬
b
‫בּ‬
v
‫ב‬
g
‫ג‬
d
‫ד‬
h
‫ה‬
v
‫ו‬
z
‫ז‬
h
‫ח‬
t
‫ט‬
y
‫י‬
k
‫כּ‬
kh
‫ ך‬,‫כ‬
l
‫ל‬
m
‫ ם‬,‫מ‬
n
‫ ן‬,‫נ‬
s
‫ס‬
‘
‫ע‬
xvii
p
‫פּ‬
f
‫ ף‬,‫פ‬
tz
‫ ץ‬,‫צ‬
q
‫ק‬
r
‫ר‬
sh
‫שׁ‬
s
ֹ‫ש‬
t
‫ ת‬,‫תּ‬
Vowels
Transliteration
Hebrew
Transliteration
a
ַ ָ ְַ
ai
‫י‬
e
ֶ ֵ ֱ
ei
‫י‬
i
ִ ‫ִי‬
e
o
ֹ
u
ֻ
ְָ
‫וֹ‬
‫וּ‬
Superscripted “e” is used for sheva na‘; sheva nah is not transliterated.
xviii
Hebrew
ַ
ֵ
[sheva na`]
Abbreviations
m – Mishna
b – Babylonian Talmud
y – Jerusalem Talmud
Abbreviations within talmudic texts quoted have been spelled in full in this study.
Sifrei Deut. – Sifrei Deuteronomy
Abbreviations for Appendix B: Overview of a Semantic Range Study - ‫ָתּ ִמים‬
The editions of the following texts correspond to those listed in the bibliography.
FragT – Fragment Targumic Texts:
- MsP – MS Paris Bibliothèque National Hebr. 110, Folios 1-16
- MsVNL – composite of MS Vatican Ebr. 440, Folios 198-227 and Ms Nurnberg
and MS Leipzig
- MsJTS – MS Jewish Theological Seminary 605 (E.N.A. 2587), Folios 6, 7
- MsB – MS British Museum Or. 10794 (Gaster Collection) Folio 8
MT – Masoretic Text
N – Neofiti
SJ and SA – versions of the Samaritan Targum of the Pentateuch
TJb – Targum to Job from Qumran Cave XI
TJ-Nevi’im – Targum Jonathan
T-Nakh – Aramaic Targum for Prophets and Writings (shown in Miqra’ot Gedolot)
TO – Targum Onkelos (TAJ)
T-Yerushalmi – Targum Yerushalmi
Y – Pseudo-Yonatan
Syr – Peshitta in Hebrew characters
xix
List of Appendices
Appendix A
Excerpt: Babylonian Talmud Yevamot 121a
Appendix B
Overview of a Semantic Range Study of tamim [‫ ] ָתּ ִמים‬in
Masoretic Text With Reference to its Counterpart shelim [‫] ְשׁ ִלים‬
and Parallels in Palestinian Aramaic Targumic Texts
Appendix C
Full Hebrew Poems by Dahlia Ravikovitch Corresponding to
Excerpts Quoted in Hebrew: alphabetically by title or by first line of
untitled works
Appendix D
Full Hebrew Poems by Amichai, Bialik and Cohen Corresponding
to Excerpts Quoted in Hebrew: alphabetically by poets’ last
names in Hebrew
xx
1
Introduction
I.
Preamble: Self-portraits in the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch
This thesis approaches the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch (1936-2005) as verbal selfportraiture. Each poem resembles a prism that refracts a likeness of the speaker. Each
prism offers a glimpse of the speaker’s soul, the music of her voice and the perspective
of her spirit. Together the poems comprise a gallery of verbal self-portraits. Some are
elaborate. Others reveal simple brushstrokes of aspect and attitude. In these portraits,
Ravikovitch constructs her persona as poet, intent on writing her bios by inscribing acts
of consciousness.
This study employs the term “bios” in the sense which James Olney proposes as “both
the course of a life seen as a process rather than a stable entity, and the unique psychic
configuration that is this life and no other”.1 This study employs the word
“consciousness” with the nuance which Olney also sets forth in contemplation of the
term “life” as:
‘life’ where it does not signify an historical
matter, the course of a certain number of years, but instead means
spirit, or vital principle, or the act of consciousness, or transcendent
reality, […] Life in all these latter
senses does not stretch back across time but extends down to the
roots of individual being; it is atemporal, committed to a vertical
thrust from consciousness down into the unconscious rather than
to a horizontal thrust from the present into the past.2
The persona of Ravikovitch’s poetry is acutely lovelorn, yearns for pure essence and
perfect recollection. She is torn between impulses to fully remember and deliberately
forget.
1
James Olney, “Some Versions of Memory / Some Versions of Bios: The Ontology of Autobiography,”
Autobiography: Essays Theoretical and Critical, ed. James Olney (Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 1980) 241. Henceforth: Olney, “Memory/Bios.”
2
Olney, “Memory/Bios,” 239.
2
II. Major Themes of Ravikovitch’s Self-portraits
(i)
Lamenting Poet, Lovelorn Soul
In the late nineteen sixties Mordecai Shalev identified Dahlia Ravikovitch as a
‘lamenting poet’ and the title took hold for decades.3 Miri Barukh identified a shift in
Ravikovitch’s third book4 from earlier naïve imaginative modes to modes of elegy related
to reality.5 Previously, Ravikovitch’s poetry had been filled with exotic landscapes of
gold and ivory, sailors and seafaring vessels, and a bustling afterlife in which the dead
carry on living. Barukh observed that these youthful flights of fancy had yielded to
grayer landscapes as well as to a realistic recognition of death and loss expressed in
poetic lamentation.6 Through textual analysis of Ravikovitch’s oeuvre, following its
development over the four decades that have elapsed since the conferral of Shalev’s
original epithet, this thesis broadens Ravikovitch’s title to a ‘lamenting lovelorn soul’.
The demonstration and defence of this expansion through Ravikovitch’s poetry inform
the heart of my enterprise.
Apropos of her lovelorn status this thesis identifies that the persona depicted in the
poetry rarely manages to experience love in satisfying proportions. She actually suffers
from love. She suffers from a dearth of it on the receiving end and a surfeit on the giving
end, devoting more than she perceives in return. This leads to malaise conventionally
expressed as lovesickness. She is holat ’ahava – as deeply lovesick as the female
figure at the heart of one of the love poems in the Song of Songs. She sings in a tone
close to lament:
3
Mordecai Shalev, “Dahlia Ravikovitch – meshoreret meqonenet,” [“Dahlia Ravikovitch – Lamenting
Poetess,”] Ha-’aretz: tarbut ve-sifrut, 2.4.69; 13.6.69. Henceforth: Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet.”
4
Dahlia Ravikovitch, Ha-sefer ha-shelishi [The Third Book] (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad) 1969.
5
Miri Barukh, ‘Iyyunim be-shirat Dahlia Ravikovitch [Studies in the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch] (Tel
Aviv: Akad, 1973) 66. Henceforth: Barukh, ‘Iyyunim be-shirat Ravikovitch.
6
Barukh, ‘Iyyunim b e-shirat Ravikovitch, 66-73.
3
Sustain me with sweet-delicacies,
Bolster me with apples,
For I am sick with love.7
As this study shows, Ravikovitch extends the comparison between the persona of her
poetry and that of a lover in the Song of Songs. Each feels the impact of love at its
heights and depths. This study illustrates, through textual analysis, that the poet
perceives these extremes so intensely, and so organically, that she experiences them
bodily. In addition this thesis claims that even when the persona finds love accessible,
she experiences and laments love as an affliction. I therefore call the poet-persona a
lamenting lovelorn soul.
(ii)
Eros
As argued by Ayelet Lesly the poet communicates her rare experiences of consummate
eros through sensations of sinking into water or a cloud.8 This thesis uncovers additional
dimensions of such experiences. For the persona consummate eros is a total-body
experience involving her every limb and organ. In addition to causing her to glow
physically, eros involves bodily seeping. Beyond a sensation of sinking or settling into
water vapour or lush material, consummate eros sometimes entails her organic merging
7
Song of Songs 2:5. The Hebrew word ’ashishot, translated above as ‘sweet-delicacies’, appears in
several formations in scriptures. Its occurrences suggest sweet delicacies such as dried grapes,
namely raisins, or figs, such as the sweet morsels used in fruitcakes. In a poetic rendering of the verse
in English, the JPS translation reads as:
Sustain me with raisin cakes,
Refresh me with apples,
For I am faint with love.
JPS Hebrew-English Tanakh, (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1999) 1729. Henceforth:
JPS Tanakh.
The medieval commentary of Abraham Ibn Ezra suggests, inter alia, that the curious ’ashishot may be
understood variously as glass flagons filled with wine (Ibn Ezra on Song of Songs 2:5):
:‫ כלי זכוכית מליאות יין‬- ‫באשישות‬
8
e
e
e
Ayelet Lesly, “M shor rot ‘ivriyot nog ‘ot ba-’eros: ‘iyyun be-shiratan shel Esther Raab ve-Dahlia
Ravikovitch,” [“Hebrew Poets Touch Upon Eros: A Study of the Poetry of Esther Raab and Dahlia
Ravikovitch,”] M.A. thesis, Bar Ilan University, 1999. 107,112-113. Henceforth: Lesly, “Meshorerot
‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros.”
4
with such marvelous matter. Occasionally, as described in the poetry, it involves a
suffusion of such luxuriant milieux with her own essence.
(iii)
Malaise
The persona is seldom comfortable emotionally. She manifests her malaise physically
through contrasting sensations, idiosyncratic dressing and pronounced cravings. She is
by turns too hot or too cold, lingers at home wearing a particular plaid skirt, and wraps
herself up to the point of near self-strangulation. When the persona feels particularly
bereft she becomes keenly aware of a gaping void in her soul and yearns profoundly for
a substance of sustenance to fill it. Metaphorically, she calls out for ‘vanilla’.9 Actually,
aside from eros, only total immersion in poetry – its reading and its writing – alleviates
her malaise.10
(iv)
Convergence of Eros and Creative Vitality
I detect that Ravikovitch’s poetry shows a convergence of eros, sexually defined, and
the creative vitality connected to her writing process. I observe that the experience of
each is presaged in the poetry by a similar sequence of vertical descent and linked to a
similar phenomenon of sensory intoxication. Further I indicate that the nexus of eros
and creativity presents as the substance of existential sustenance for which the poet so
deeply yearns in order to go on with daily living and writing. It helps her navigate the
lingering anguish of certain traumatic personal recollections and countenance
responsibility on the collective level. She attends best to both through her poetry writing.
In the process of arriving at the observation outlined above, this thesis notes that in
addition to her occasional release through eros, Ravikovitch’s persona derives relief
primarily when she manages to absorb herself fully in crystal-clear consciousness for
the writing of bios:11 contemporaneous constructions of ‘self’ also called ‘self-writing’.
9
Dahlia Ravikovitch, “Portret” [“Portrait,”] Kol ha-shirim ‘ad ko, (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1995)
135-137. Henceforth: Ravikovitch, Kol ha-shirim.
10
Ravikovitch, “’’Atta bevadai zokher,” [“Surely You Remember,”] Kol ha-shirim, 115-116.
11
Olney, “Memory/Bios,” 241.
5
The poet composes her self-portraits in the productive language of feminine writing,
also called écriture dite féminine, or simply écriture féminine, which Hélène Cixous
would dub writing “in white ink.”12
Hélène Cixous associates “white ink” with mother’s milk: “a woman is never far from
‘mother’ […] There is always within her at least a little of that good mother’s milk. She
writes in white ink.”13 In the context of writing in white ink, Cixous writes of ‘mother’ as
metaphor, referring to:
the equivoice that affects you, fills your breast with an urge to come to
language and launches / your force; the rhythm that laughs you; […]
makes all metaphors possible and / desirable […] that part of you / that
leaves a space between yourself and urges you to inscribe in language
your woman’s style.14
In producing constructions of her ‘self’ Ravikovitch’s speaker etches the poems with her
unique voice, her unique sexuality, and her unique icons. Self-writing in poetry presents
as one of myriad modes of écriture féminine, reflecting “the infinite richness of their
individual constitutions.”15
In context, the reference to “individual constitutions” is to those of women and men who
occupy “the space of feminine writing”16 and who inscribe therein the profusion and
plurality of female sexuality. Cixous cautions that “you can’t talk about a female
sexuality, uniform, homogeneous, classifiable into codes – any more than you can talk
about one unconscious resembling another. Women’s imaginary is inexhaustible, like
music, painting, writing: their stream of phantasms is incredible.”17
12
13
14
Hélène Cixous, “The Laugh of the Medusa,” The Continental Ethics Reader, eds. Matthew Calarco
and Peter Atterton (New York and London: Routledge, 2003) 280. Henceforth: Cixous, “Laugh of the
Medusa.”
Loc. cit.
Loc. cit.
15
Cixous “Laugh of the Medusa,” 276.
16
Matthew Calarco and Peter Atterton, “Hélène Cixous,” The Continental Ethics Reader, eds. Matthew
Calarco and Peter Atterton, (New York and London: Routledge, 2003) 275. Henceforth: Calarco and
Atterton, “Hélène Cixous.”
17
Cixous “Laugh of the Medusa,” 276.
6
This thesis identifies the unique flow of Ravikovitch’s écriture féminine. That flow is
strongly evident in the pair of antidotes to the poet’s malaise: the fluid realms of eros,
sexually defined, and of creative, contemporaneous self-writing. More precisely, that
unique flow is evident in their convergence pictured in the verbal self-portraits in the
poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch.
(v)
Soul in Flames
When accessible, the substance of existential sustenance, previously mentioned,
functions as the persona’s Ariadne’s thread:18 it presents as a memory-shaping fibre
that might offer her deliverance from the bewildering warrens of love. When love is
unavailable, the fibre serves as a lit fuse leading to certain combustion. Readers of
Ravikovitch have known for years that the persona herself is smouldering,19 as scholars
usually trace the initial flames to formative traumas in Ravikovitch’s childhood.20 The
traumas are repeated as nightmare in the poetry as the persona seeks to comprehend
them and strives to gain a modicum of control over them.
In analyzing poems such as Hitrosheshut [Impoverishment]21 and excerpts of Devarim
she-yesh lahem shi‘ur [Limits]22 this thesis adds to the research on the phenomenon of
18
Olney works with the metaphor of ‘Ariadne’s thread’ borrowed from Greek mythology to refer to the
unconscious formation of memory as distinct from the process of bios in: Olney, “Memory/Bios,” 240241.
19
Ravikovitch, “Ha-beged,” [“The Garment,”; Henceforth: ”Dress of Fire.”] Kol ha-shirim, 122-123. This
poem is translated as “A Dress of Fire,” transl. Chana Bloch, A Dress of Fire, (Berkeley: Menard
Press, 1976) 5-8; it is also translated as “The Dress,” in Dahlia Ravikovitch, Hovering at a Low
Altitude: The Collected Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch, transl. Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld, (New
York and London: W. W. Norton and Company) 115-116. Henceforth: Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and
Kronfeld, Hovering.
20
Michal Ben-Naftali, “Keri‘a: ‘al yehasei ’em-bat be-‘iqqevot ‘Ha-beged’ me-’et Dahlia Ravikovitch,”
[“Rending: On Mother-daughter Relations in the Wake of ‘The Dress’,”] Resling 7 (2000): 65-83.
Henceforth: Ben-Naftali, “Keri‘a.”
21
Ravikovitch, “Hitrosheshut,” [“Impoverishment,”] Kol ha-shirim, 174. This poem is translated as
“Impoverishment,” transl. and eds. Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch, The Window: Poems by Dahlia
Ravikovitch (Riverdale-on-Hudson: Sheep Meadow Press, 1989) 80. Henceforth: Ravikovitch, The
Window, transl. Bloch and Bloch. This poem is also translated as “Growing Poor” in Ravikovitch,
transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 148.
22
Ravikovitch, “Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur,” [“Limits,”] Kol ha-shirim, 178.
7
flames by tracing the motif through which the persona constructs an image of herself as
an apostate. She is cognizant that the flames of her smouldering are a function of her
‘mistaken’ or ‘out of bounds’ love.23 She uses comparable terms to convey personal
apostasy and consequent alienation from divine love. Conscious of her estranged
status, she feels pressed to seek purification of her soul through fire.24 She resolves to
descend to the depths as a shipwreck ablaze.25 This thesis locates the motif of ‘buffeted
boat in endless waters’ in talmudic literature,26 and explores its implications to enlarge
the scope of current scholarship on flames and fire in Ravikovitch’s poetry.
(vi)
Collective Responsibility
The theme of collective responsibility emerges in poems in which the persona exerts
her voice of socio-political conscience. Examples are apparent in a set of poems in
Ravikovitch’s third book. They are grouped as Sugyot be-yahadut bat zemanenu [Issues
in Contemporary Jewish Studies]27 A representative portrait of the persona’s voice is
perceptible in ‘Egla ‘arufa [Neckbroken Heifer].28 This thesis adds a new component to
the research on this particular poem through analysis of the unique means which
Ravikovitch employs to exert her own voice of socio-political responsibility, namely
‘hermeneutic lag’.29
I adopt the expression ‘hermeneutic lag’ from Marjorie Perloff. Perloff coins this term in
the context of poetry analysis. Perloff identifies a postmodern poetic technique
23
24
25
Loc. cit.
Ravikovitch, “Hitrosheshut,” Kol ha-shirim, 174
Loc. cit.
26
bYevamot 121a.
27
Ravikovitch, “Sugyot be-yahadut bat zemanenu,” Kol ha-shirim, 244-258.
28
Ravikovitch, “‘Egla ‘arufa,” Kol ha-shirim, 253-254. This poem is translated as “Blood Heifer” in
Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Bloch, The Window, 98-99. It is also translated as “Beheaded Heifer” in
Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 195-196.
29
Marjorie Perloff, “Signs are Taken for Wonders: On Steve McCaffery’s ‘Lag’,” In Contemporary Poetry
Meets Modern Theory, eds. Antony Easthope and John O.Thompson (Toronto: University of Toronto
Press, 1991) 114.
8
precipitated at the levels of semantics and syntax.30 I identify a similar technique in
Ravikovitch’s poetry of the level of global meaning. For all intents and purposes,
‘hermeneutic lag’ gives birth to a functional space where and when language is
manipulated to undermine language. The destabilization caused by the technique of
‘hermeneutic lag’ opens spaces or delays in poetry in which readers must grope for
meaning and subsequently reorient themselves. Ironically, it is in these spaces or lags,
rather than in the words, that poets like Ravikovitch sometimes situate their loudest
voices. I will demonstrate the presence and function of this postmodern poetic through
an analysis of ‘Egla ‘arufa. Ravikovitch’s situates her voice of collective responsibility
and remonstration in this poem’s ‘hermeneutic lag’.
(vii) Traumatic Remembering
Efforts to piece together the circumstances surrounding her father’s death in a fatal car
accident plague the persona. They are manifest in early poems such as ‘Omed ‘al hakevish ba-lyela [Standing on the Road at Night].31 As the persona matures her
pronounced desire to summon pure memory is the source of daily ache and agony: she
is torn between the consuming desire for a perfect recollection in order to compose
poetry, and the need for a buffer of a benign degree of forgetting in order to tolerate the
distresses of living. The same holds true for the persona when she exerts her voice of
responsibility on the collective level. This thesis enlarges the research on the poem
Zikkaron tamim [A Pure Memory; A Perfect Memory; An Intact Memory]32 through
analysis of the postmodern ‘sealing and unsealing’ of meaning as the means which
30
Perloff refers specifically to the work of Steve McCaffery who laces his renowned postmodern poem
“Lag” with unsettling prepositions. He employs these linguistic shifters to project meaning
cataphorically and anaphorically. This practice precipitates a lag while readers grope for their semantic
and syntactic bearings. McCaffery employs this technique to cause language to destabilize language.
In so doing, I perceive that he draws attention to the spaces in poetry. In those spaces meaning may
be discerned yet is perpetually in flux. A comparison might be made to Mallarmé’s technique in the
poem, “Un coup de dés” [“A Toss of the Dice”] first published in a journal called Cosmopolis in May
1897. The uniquely sparse and scattered layout of the printed word on the pages draws attention to
both the physical spaces and the gaps in meaning which are full of meaning.
31
Ravikovitch, (untitled) [“‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela,” – “Standing on the Road at Night,”] Kol ha-shirim
24.
32
Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim, 161. This poem is translated as “A Pure Whole Memory”
in Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 137.
9
Ravikovitch employs to paint that very tension: desperation to recall a pure memory and
the impetus to forget.
In this regard, the persona struggles in the bind identified by Herbert Marcuse as
follows:
This ability to forget – itself the result of a long and terrible education
by experience – is an indispensable requirement of mental and physical
hygiene without which civilized life would be unbearable; but it is also the
mental faculty which sustains submissiveness and renunciation. To forget
is also to forgive what should not be forgiven if justice and freedom are to
prevail. 33
Derrida identifies the poetic correlative to the type of tension that Marcuse describes
between remembrance and forgetting.34 He does so in the context of analyzing the
poetry of Paul Célan’s on witnessing. Derrida writes: “The possibility of a secret always
remains open, and this reserve inexhaustible. That is more than ever so in the poetry of
Célan, who never ceased encrypting (sealing, unsealing) these references.”35
I suggest that Derrida’s assertions regarding sealing and unsealing, as well as the open
possibility for texts to whisper secrets, would apply as well to Ravikovitch’s enterprise of
dense textual encryption. Through application of the results of a semantic range study, I
shall demonstrate that in Zikkaron tamim Ravikovitch builds in a ‘self-unsealing’
mechanism. She does so by incorporating a semantic component which poses
conflicting meanings regarding remembrance.
33
Herbert Marcuse, “Eros and Thanatos,” Sigmund Freud, ed. Harold Bloom (New York: Chelsea
House,1985) 12.
34
Jacques Derrida, “Poetics and Politics of Witnessing,” 2004, Sovereignties in Question: The Poetics of
Paul Célan, eds. Thomas Dutoit and Outi Pasanan (New York: Fordham University Press, 2005) 6596. Henceforth: Derrida, “Poetics and Politics of Witnessing.”
35
Derrida, “Poetics and Politics of Witnessing,” 67.
10
III. Outline of Existing Research on the Poetry of Dahlia
Ravikovitch
This thesis weaves together several threads in examining self-portraiture in
Ravikovitch’s poetry: love and eros with their attendant sensations and emotions,
constructions of self, soul and remembrance, as well as écriture féminine associated
with the persona’s creative production of poetry.
(i)
General Research on the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch
Dahlia Ravikovitch sent her poetry to print for six decades beginning in the nineteen
fifties. Over the years there have been articles and anthology entries published about
individual poems and currents in her oeuvre, two volumes on structural themes, several
M.A. theses completed at Israeli universities and, most recently, a doctoral thesis. The
M.A. theses examine biblical Hebrew language and underpinnings in the poetry,36 the
role these played in reader reception of the early work,37 expressions of eros,38 and a
study of the central female figure in Ravikovitch’s prose viewed in light of chronic
depression and additional influences on identity-formation.39
In 2008 Ilana Szobel examined identity-formation in Ravikovitch’s complete corpus. At
the time of the preparation of this thesis, Tamar Hess and Hamutal Tsamir are coediting a volume of original essays and reprints of seminal articles on the work of Dahlia
36
Merav Mikulitzky, “Ha-tashtit ha-miqra’it be-shireihem shel natan zach ve-Dahlia Ravikovitch,” [“The
Scriptural Base in the Poems of Natan Zach and Dahlia Ravikovitch,”] M.A. thesis, Tel Aviv University,
2004. Henceforth: Mikulitzky, “Ha-tashtit ha-miqra’it.”
37
Tali Ergov, “Shiratah ha-muqdemet shel Dahlia Ravikovitch: hitqablut u-fo’etiqa,” [“The Early Poetry of
Dahlia Ravikovitch: Reader-reception and Poetics,”] M.A. thesis, Hebrew University of Jerusalem,
1995. Henceforth: Ergov, “Shiratah ha-muqdemet.”
38
Lesly, ““Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros.”
39
Ilana Szobel, “‘Keivan she-biqesha le-himalet nit‘arbeva da‘atah': ‘al ha-demut ha-nashit ve‘al kroniqat
ha-dikkuy bi-yetzira ha-sifrutit shel Dahlia Ravikovitch,” [“’She Sought to Flee and Took Leave of Her
Senses’: About the Female Image and Chronic Depression in the Prose of Dahlia Ravikovitch,”] M.A.
thesis, Tel Aviv University, 2000. Henceforth: Szobel, “Kroniqat ha-dikkuy.”
11
Ravikovitch.40 Among them are articles each has written addressing gender in the
language, structure and content of Ravikovitch’s poetry.
Hess addresses issues of gender constraints posed by the Hebrew language, research
to which this introduction will soon return.41 Tsamir addresses “the triangular connection
between poetics, gender and canon that is embodied in the relationship between the
poet Ravikovitch and her readers.”42 She views Ravikovitch as the “new, Israeli version
of the national poet, a role that includes being the poet-prophet”43 and argues that “it is
not incidental that a woman fills this position.”44 Tsamir further asserts that “Ravikovitch
discloses the nation’s internal fissures as they are embodied and inscribed in her body
and mind.”45
(ii)
Outline of Research Pertinent to This Thesis
The following is an outline of the existing research on the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch
that touches on the concentration of this dissertation. Some of the studies cited bear
direct foundational relevance to themes of the self-portraits such as those of eros,
creativity, lament and existential malaise; others are cited to show views with which my
research concurs, upon which my thinking builds, or from which my analysis diverges,
whether in terms of content, concepts and literary analysis, or in terms of
methodological considerations.
40
Kitmei ’or: ma’amarim ‘al Dahlia Ravikovitch, Tamar Hess and Hamutal Tsamir, eds. (Tel Aviv:
Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 2010). Henceforth: Hess and Tsamir, eds., Kitmei ’or.
41
Tamar Hess, “Poetica shel ‘etz te’enim: panim feministiyot be-shiratah ha-muqdemet shel Dahlia
Ravikovitch,” [“Poetics of a Fig Tree: Feminist Facets in the Early Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch,”]
Seminar paper presented in 1994 to Ruth Karton-Bloom at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, soon
to be published in: Hess and Tsamir, eds., Kitmei ’or. Henceforth: Hess, “Poetica shel ‘etz te’enim.”
42
Hamutal Tsamir, “‘Strange Things Happen in the History of Literature’: Poetry in the Nation State,
Dahlia Ravikovitch and the Gender of Representation,” Jewish Social Studies 14.3 (2008): 88.
Henceforth: Tsamir, “Ravikovitch and the Gender of Representation.” In the forthcoming publication
the title will be as follows: Hamutal Tsamir, "Ha-tzofa le-veit yisrael mi-bifnim: Dahlia Ravikovitch, hashira ha-le’umit-yisraelit ve-ha-migdar shel ha-yitzugiyut,” eds. Hess and Tsamir, Kitmei ’or.
43
Tsamir, “Ravikovitch and the Gender of Representation,” 88.
44
45
Loc. cit
Tsamir, “Ravikovitch and the Gender of Representation,” 102.
12
(iii)
Miri Barukh
In treating the theme of eros Miri Barukh views the speaker of the poems as susceptible
to falling in love with destructive lovers.46 In these contexts, which are potentially fatal for
the speaker, Barukh highlights what she sees as the speaker’s masochism. To my
mind, Barukh’s approach does not credit the persona with sufficient motivation, volition
and innovative ability to traverse liminal boundaries through language and remain intact.
In these regards, Tamar Hess makes the case in favour of the persona.47 My thesis will
reposition the so-called masochism as an issue of proportions in matters of love. I shall
claim that the persona’s lovelorn condition is due, in large measure, to the fact that she
never manages to find or show love in satisfying proportions.
(iv)
Juliette Hassine
In connection to the persona’s personification of a tapuah zahav – a golden apple as a
metaphor of ‘self’, Juliette Hassine identifies eros and wisdom as the symbolism of
golden apples in several cultures, particularly in Greek mythology48 and far eastern
alchemy.49 She elucidates that among the labours with which Eurystheus charges
Hercules is the enjoinment to steal the apples of the Garden of the Hesperides, also
known as Athena’s love apples. She thus detects the love and the danger invested in
such apples. Hassine provides additional leads to the essence of golden apples as
secret, precious alchemical wisdom and insight sought by those in quest of a
philosopher’s stone.50
This thesis will trace additional golden apples in literature, both to broaden the frame of
reference presented by Hassine and to show features of golden apples in addition to
eros. A christological view holds to a vision of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good
46
Barukh, ‘Iyyunim b e-shirat Ravikovitch, 34, 42.
47
Hess, “Poetica shel ‘etz te’enim.”
48
Juliette Hassine, Shira u-mitos bi-yetziratah shel Dahlia Ravikovitch (Tel Aviv: Akad, 1989) 46.
Henceforth: Hassine, Shira u-mitos.
49
Hassine, Shira u-mitos, 48, 53, 59.
50
Hassine, Shira u-mitos, 14-20.
13
and Evil as an apple, a concept of which Ravikovitch would have been aware. By
association danger and death, in addition to eros, adhere to the symbol. Ravikovitch’s
principal wellspring of Hebrew scriptures, however, does not specify the fruit of that tree
as an apple. Ravikovitch takes hearty literary advantage of the apples which do occur in
Hebrew scriptures in the Song of Songs and in Proverbs.
In the matter of golden apples, this study turns to those featured in classical genres of
Hebrew literature such as Hebrew bible and medieval Hebrew writing. These reveal
facets of the golden apple that complement eros and illustrate its enlarged sphere of
symbolic influence for the poet and her poems. In looking at the genres right in the
poet’s own backyard this study will show that in addition to eros and wisdom,
Ravikovitch’s speaker, personified as a golden apple, seeks to embody love, poetry,
prophecy and essence.
Accordingly this study will reframe the general ‘take’ on Dahlia Ravikovitch’s tapuah
zahav – golden apple, heretofore largely conceived of as an orange. The translators
have generally gone that route. To demonstrate, the title of the first collection, ’Ahavat
tapuah ha-zahav, has been translated as The Love of an Orange.51 The merit in such a
translation might be anchored in the Italian fairytale by Giambattista Basile, For the
Love of Three Oranges, alternately The Love for Three Oranges and The Love for
Three Citrons.52 Translators Bloch and Kronfeld point out a connection to the opera by
Sergei Prokofiev53 which is based on that tale. The translation of the title does not,
however, engage the intertextual reverberations of motifs built into the layers of the
Hebrew language, which Ravikovitch uses to best advantage in poetry.
51
Ravikovitch, The Window, transl. Bloch and Bloch, 1.
52
Giambattista Basile, “The Three Citrons,” Stories from the Pentamarone by Giambattista Basile, ed.
Edward Fairbrother Strange (London: Macmillan, 1911). Tale 31.
53
Ravikovitch, “The Love of an Orange,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 49, n. 1.
14
(v)
Tamar Hess
More recently Tamar Hess has confirmed her position that Ravikovitch’s tapuah zahav
is indeed a golden apple.54 I concur with her rendering as well as with her views of the
feminist facets of Ravikovitch’s poetry, specifically the modes in which Ravikovitch
wrestles with the embedded gender constraints of Hebrew language and literature.
Hess asserts that Ravikovitch exerts herself in order to open spaces in which women
rightfully position women’s voices and female entities in language and culture, in life
force and eros.55 Hess endorses the outlook of Hélène Cixous in identifying those
desirable spaces as anywhere other than silence, the marginalized fringe or the
harem.56 Hess skilfully illustrates the properties of Ravikovitch’s golden apple to
navigate the boundaries of her beloved’s body through language, its contexts,
structures and sounds, through eros and ingenuity.57
I view the titular poem of Ravikovitch’s first collection of poetry, ’Ahavat tapuah hazahav – The Love of a Golden Apple as the concentrated essence of her poetic corpus.
I am fully in agreement with Tamar Hess in regarding the apple as a pivotal key to the
oeuvre. My thesis adds to the research by revealing additional allusions associated with
the golden apple. These derive from layers of Hebrew literature as far back as biblical
and medieval sources. My study also identifies and illustrates a related key which grows
from this poem and is central to the oeuvre: love, for the persona, is a makka – an
affliction which is the source of her suffering and cause for lament.
(vi)
Mordecai Shalev
In a series of newspaper articles written in the late nineteen sixties, Mordecai Shalev is
incisive about the elegiac tenor of the poems in Ravikovitch’s third collection.58 They
54
55
Hess, “Poetica shel ‘etz te’enim.”
Loc. cit.
56
Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 279.
57
Hess, “Poetica shel ‘etz te’enim.”
58
Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” Parts 1-6.
15
cloak what he deems ‘a national pastime’ in Hebrew literature: the donning of disguises
and masquerading. In reflecting on the implications of the garb, grievances and
proclivities of the speaker of the poem Portret [Portrait],59 Shalev indicates the persona’s
discomfort in matters of love and poetry writing. I shall further develop Shalev’s
concepts in this thesis through illustration of the centrality of this poem and its motifs
among the verbal self-portraits offered in the oeuvre.
Shalev exposes a discreetly clad secret in analyzing the garb of the speaker in the
poem Portret. He notes that the chequered or plaid skirt which the speaker insists on
mentioning in a coyly dismissive manner, attracts attention and engenders comment.
The skirt is described as meshubetzet – reminiscent of the inlaid gem and socket
configuration or pattern woven into some of the ancient priestly vestments worn for
service in the temple that stood in Jerusalem. Shalev comments on the speaker’s
garment in light of eros. He shows that the persona practically points an arrow in the
direction of her skirt to transmit her intense need for eros.
This study will show a connection that the persona makes linking eros and the poetrywriting process by association. Just as the speaker exhibits an urgent need to write, she
exhibits a profound urge for eros; hence her distress in the face of her ‘ikkuvim – delays
and setbacks which, in addition to expressions of existential malaise, may be perceived
as writer’s block for lack of eros.
The overlap between the speaker’s need for eros and need to write poetry offers an
opportunity to delve preliminarily into the theory of feminine writing that I shall discuss
more fully where appropriate in this study. For now it is sufficient to state that Shalev’s
comments about Ravikovitch’s writing relate to the concept advanced by Hélène Cixous
picturing écriture féminine as writing “in white ink.”60 Cixous situates ‘white ink’ as a
productive flow reminiscent of mother’s milk. Early on, Shalev had identified the motif of
‘vanilla’ in Portret in a similar and context.
59
Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.
60
Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 280.
16
Shalev envisioned ‘vanilla’ as ‘mother’s milk’ in its productive association and as
semen.61 My study will frame both of these bodily substances as productive ‘lifeconferring streams of white ink’. The ‘vanilla’ craving in the poem Portret should
therefore be read as the speaker’s craving for that which will dispel her malaise and
enable her to relaunch her stalled poetry writing process in order to write creatively in
the ‘white ink’ associated with écriture féminine: a convergence of eros, sexually
defined, and creative vitality.
(vii) Ayelet Lesly
In an M.A. thesis on eros in the work of modern Hebrew poets Raab and Ravkovitch,
Ayelet Lesly notes both direct and indirect expressions of eros in Ravikovitch’s poetry
and a steady reliance on descriptions of nature and natural motifs to express erotic
desire and longing.62 These include streams of water and light in a variety of states as
well as the speaker’s urge to envelop herself in their flow. They take account of birds
and flight, lithe felines and an abundance of flora ranging from treetops and bushes to
water lilies and seaweed.
My study expands the research regarding the persona’s expressions of eros by drawing
attention to the physical journeys that she projects at the height of passion, and to her
proclivity to merge organically with the marvelous matter or lush material that cushions,
receives or encircles her. Both the physical passage and the organic merging require
her to traverse limens usually regarded as barriers.
Lesly expounds the heightened sensory phenomena that accompany the speaker’s
experience of eros. During such moments the persona conveys the sensation of floating
freely or sinking into a cloud. My thesis identifies a congruent sensory phenomenon in
Ravikovitch’s poetry which portends the speaker’s productive composition of poetry
through acts of consciousness presaged by acute sensory awareness: lights behave
61
Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” Part 6.
62
Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros,” 101-133.
17
outrageously, colours leap from the strongholds of their picture frames, stars plummet,
grasses moan,63 walls stretch to increased heights and hues grow more intense.64
I view this heightening of senses, verging on sensory confoundment and portending
productive poetry writing, as a parallel to the sensory experiences that Lesly has
identified in the framework of eros. In other words, my study links the speaker’s creative
poetry writing process with her experience of eros and, accordingly, relates her intense
need for creativity to her craving for eros.65
Further to the convergence of eros, sexually defined, and creative vitality, my study
adds to the motifs recognized in the research by identifying portraits of the persona’s
throat.66 She paints her throat in varying states of constriction and release, depending
on how freely flowing either her experience of eros or her poetry-writing happens to be
at the moment of portraiture.
(viii) Ilana Szobel
In reference to methodology for approaching the persona’s constructions of ‘self’ it is
important to acknowledge the scholarly work of Ilana Szobel. Szobel’s M.A. thesis
studies the central female figure of Ravikovitch’s prose.67 In her analysis of the identityformation of that figure, Ilana Szobel succeeds in remarking incisively upon the
“integration of experiences”68 precisely because the prose offers recourse to “a linear
continuity and the connections between them and their development is made possible
by precise information about the heroine’s age and the thematic focus on the same age
group.”69
63
Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim, 161. See also: Robert Alter, “Foreward,” in The Window,
ix-xiii.
64
Ravikovitch, “’Atta bevadai zokher”, Kol ha-shirim, 115-116.
65
See Chapter Four.
66
See Chapter Four.
67
68
69
Szobel, “Kroniqat ha-dikkuy.
Szobel, “Kroniqat ha-dikkuy,” Abstract iii.
Loc. cit.
18
By contrast a poetic oeuvre does not characteristically offer a single foothold of linearity.
Instead it offers prismatic views of a whole. Accordingly my thesis approaches the
poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch as self-writing nestled naturally in the broad embrace of the
non-linear, kaleidoscopic writing associated with both self-writing and écriture féminine.
My study treats the poems of Ravikovitch’s oeuvre as prisms refracting the verbal selfportraiture of their speaker. She constructs her persona as a poet intent on writing her
bios.
Ilana Szobel’s recent doctoral dissertation examines identity-formation in Ravikovitch’s
entire corpus, prose and poetry, through the treble skylights of psychoanalysis, feminist
theory and trauma studies.70 Szobel lucidly brings to bear specifics of identity-formation
with an accent on estrangement and subjectivity.
My work examines a specific all-encompassing component of the persona’s identity,
namely her lovelorn condition. It views her work through the lenses of self-writing,
écriture féminine and postmodern poetics. It examines a spectrum of intertextual
engagements that have nearing upon the contextual sense of the poetic oeuvre, upon
its specific language, motifs and themes. In terms of examining constructions of ‘self’
the studies complement one another.
IV. Methodology for Examination of Prismatic Self-Portraiture:
Motifs and Means
(i)
Motifs
Among the motifs to which this thesis attends, it pays particular attention to the multiple
facets refracted in that of the golden apple which is the key to Ravikovitch’s entire
oeuvre. In addition to the golden apple’s prisms of eros and wisdom, this thesis discerns
portraits of a poet, prophet, a scribe and royal chanteuse, of throats and voices, as well
70
Ilana Szobel, “‘Not with My Feet on the Ground’: Poetics of Estrangement, Subversion and Witnessing
in the Oeuvre of Dahlia Ravikovitch,” diss., New York University, 2008. Henceforth: Szobel, “Poetics of
Estrangement.”
19
as of souls and sinners. All ache for pure memory and thirst for pure essence. Each will
be made apparent as the chapters unfold.
(ii)
Means
This thesis employs textual analysis to view and convey the significance of the
brushstrokes-of-self in the gallery of the poet’s self-portraits. The analysis treats the
oeuvre in a holistic manner, regarding the poems as interrelated and contextually
meshed. Through textual analysis this study seeks parallels and contrasts in semantics,
motifs, contexts and concepts. In turn, by inquiring of the text in an interpretive manner,
this study utilizes the parallels and contrasts to detect a coherent body of underlying
significance which Ravikovitch assembled during more than five decades of poetic
composition.
Recognizing that each successive layer of Hebrew language and literature resonates
with the semantics, motifs and contexts of its predecessors, this thesis also seeks and
presents the reverberations of such elements in the Hebrew of the Masoretic text and
Aramaic parallels,71 rabbinic, medieval and early modern Hebrew compositions. Despite
the concentration in much of the research on the poet’s use of biblical language and
motifs with a few references to middle Hebrew,72 Ravikovitch’s poetry engages with
multiple layers of Hebrew literature. She draws on these in several ways. She employs
them to enlarge the semantic scope of individual terms and to increase the productive
tension among their connotations.73 She mines their depths as primary sources of
influence for her complex innovation of motifs, and excavates their riches to trigger the
counterpoint of intertextuality.
71
The Aramaic parallels to which the text above refers are Palestinian Aramaic targumic texts including:
Pseudo-Jonathan, Neofiti, variants of the Samaritan Targum, Targum Onkelos which is a Palestinian
Aramaic parallel that underwent a Babylonian redaction, as well as the Syriac dialect of the Peshitta.
72
Barukh, ‘Iyyunim be-shirat Ravikovitch; Mikulitzky, “Ha-tashtit ha-miqra’it”; Ergov, “Shiratah hamuqdemet.”; Shalev, Meshoreret meqonenet.”
73
Examples include the poet’s use of the Hebrew term makka with positive and negative connotations:
see Chapter Three. See Chapter Seven for the poet’s use of the Hebrew term tamim with conflicting
connotations. See Appendix B for the results of the accompanying semantic range study in classical
Hebrew and Aramaic sources.
20
In fact, Ravikovitch consciously incorporates and skilfully shapes that which T. Carmi
identifies as the inevitable intertextual engagement among layers of Hebrew. Carmi
describes the phenomenon as follows:
Whether the poet wills it or not, there is often an element of counterpoint
in Hebrew poetry. However colloquial the rhythms and even the diction, it
is heard by the alert reader against the background of biblical poetry and of
an uninterrupted poetic tradition. And some of the finest effects of modern
poetry still result from the tension between everyday speech and
the undertones and overtones of a shared heritage.74
In addition to facilitating intertextual counterpoint, there are instances in which
Ravikovitch instates the sources to which she alludes differentially, pitting them one
against the other, in order to interpolate ‘hermeneutic lag’75 and to facilitate a
postmodern ‘sealing and unsealing’ of texts.
V. Contents of the Chapters
(i)
Chapter One
Dahlia Ravikovitch: Lamenting Poet
Chapter One traces Ravikovitch’s reputation as a ‘lamenting poet’ and demonstrates
this title with passages from her poems. This chapter forms the basis for broadening
Ravikovitch’s honorific to the ‘lamenting lovelorn soul’.
(ii)
Chapter Two
Faint With Love: Poetry As Self-writing
Chapter Two frames an articulation of self-writing situated within the broad genre of
autobiographical writing. It then surveys the basic elements of self-writing in the oeuvre.
These elements contribute to the speaker’s prismatic construction of ‘self’ in general
and as a ‘lamenting lovelorn soul’ in particular. The excerpts chosen for illustrative
74
T. Carmi, ed., The Penguin Book of Hebrew Verse (New York: The Viking Press and Penguin Books,
1981) 47-48. For intertextual engagements in Ravikovitch’s poetry noted in this study, see the textual
underpinnings and textual interchanges which enrich the portraits and the complex motifs in Chapters
Three through Seven: a lovelorn soul, a golden apple, a figure of royalty and a skilled scribe, a
shipwreck, a Torah scroll in flames, a soul on fire, the voice of responsibility pausing between heifers,
and a poet simultaneously summoning pure memory while yearning to forget.
75
See n. 30.
21
purposes show that the persona offers constructions of ‘self’ in retrospect, in the
moment, and in prospect. A commonality surfaces in the three aspects: the persona
never manages to find love in suitable proportions. She was, is, and shall remain
perpetually lovelorn!
(iii)
Chapter Three
Being the Apple: Forwarded Conventions of Biblical
and Medieval Hebrew Literature in Modern Hebrew
Poetry
The speaker chooses and develops a motif with a long and illustrious career in world
literature: the apple. Chapter Three outlines the poet’s commencement of the corpus
with a verbal portrait of herself specifically as a golden apple. Dahlia Ravikovitch
incorporates the apple’s attributes from world literature. My work shows that she also
deepens the apple’s calling exponentially on the strength of classical Jewish sources.
Through intertextual engagements, Ravikovitch encodes this figure of alterity with the
gifts of eros, love, philosophy, alchemy, wisdom, belles lettres of fine poetry, passion,
prophecy and pure essence verging on the secrets of creation. This golden apple seeks
synthesized unity with the being she loves. She seeks to infuse that being, from within,
with her own entity and endowments. Her gifts include the visual beauty of line and
colour, sensory delights of fragrance and flavour, virtue and sensual pleasure. In an
extraordinary feat of écriture féminine, she succeeds at both fusion with and suffusion of
her beloved.
(iv)
Chapter Four
Figure of Royalty and a Skilled Scribe: Descent into
Eros, Descent into Writing
As boldly independent and resilient as the persona may be as a golden apple in love,
for this delicate soul love is a makka: an affliction that smites as severely as a plague. It
renders her lovelorn and longing for relief.
This chapter examines a self-portrait in which the figure of alterity comes across as a
figure of royalty and a skilled scribe, as a chanteuse longing to sing for the king. The
chapter analyzes the encoded natural resources, upon which the persona draws in
order to contend with her lovelorn condition, as the ‘white ink’ of écriture féminine. It is a
22
life-conferring force as potent as both eros, sexually defined, and as productive
creativity. The chapter illustrates the convergence of the two for the royal poet-persona,
both in the specific self-portrait and in the broader context of the poetic corpus. The
nexus of erotic desire and creative vitality presents as the substance of existential
sustenance which the persona profoundly craves in order to go on living, loving and
writing.
(v)
Chapter Five
Persona on Fire: Portrait of a Shipwreck
Chapter Five examines a self-portrait in which the persona presents as a raging
conflagration. She resolves to extinguish the blaze by sailing away in endless waters as
a shipwreck. The chapter scrutinizes this motif which stems from talmudic literature. The
speaker of this self-portrait imparts her status metaphorically as ‘other’: ‘other’ than
Torah scroll and ‘other’ than sacred. She presents herself as ‘marginal’, ritually unfit and
estranged from divine acceptance. In identifying as ‘other’ Ravikovitch fashions a
persona who resembles Elisha ben Abuya who became known, in midrashic literature,
as ’Aher – ‘Other’. Through a fiery death Ravikovitch’s persona projects a desired
purification for her soul and its potential acceptance by God.
(vi)
Chapter Six
Voice of Responsibility
This chapter examines a self-portrait that functions on the collective level. As a member
of the collective the persona takes responsibility for the sanctity of human life. She
refuses to accept a status quo of divestment of responsibility for civilian fatalities which
occur in struggles of attrition and skirmishes of ‘othering by stereotype’. In sounding her
poetic vocal cords the persona lithely traverses cultural boundaries without incurring
fatalities. In drifting effortlessly through the translucent membranes that divide mindsets,
the persona seeks to shape a global mentality of responsibility and reverence for human
life. This chapter identifies and demonstrates ‘hermeneutic lag’ as the means through
which the poet paints her collective verbal self-portrait, and as the space in which she
situates her voice of remonstration. This chapter addresses the portrait of ‘the voice of
responsibility’ in a work of postmodern poetics.
23
I shall show that the theme of responsibility functions on the interpolation of
‘hermeneutic lag’. I shall show that the theme of remembering functions on the
installation and subsequent subversion of that concept, facilitating the postmodern
sealing and unsealing of the given text. I have not encountered any research that
addresses these aspects of methodology in relation to Ravikovitch’s work; I therefore
present these poetics as a new way to address the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch.
(vii) Chapter Seven
Summoning Memory and Deliberate Forgetting
Chapter Seven shows a portrait of the poet engaged in the writing process on both the
individual and collective levels, with a focus on memory. On the collective level she
seeks a memory whose attributes have bearing on humanitarian issues. On the
personal level she seeks a recollection whose scope permits her both access to the
details of a particular memory and the luxury to allow some of them to fade away. This
thesis applies the results of a semantic range study to the poem in order to show
Ravikovitch’s verbal means to convey inner conflict.76 It identifies discordant
connotations of the Hebrew word tamim, whose surface meaning is ‘pure’ or ‘perfect’.
Accordingly, this thesis unveils a self-portrait picturing the persona negotiating the
tension between a compulsion to remember and an impetus to forget.
(viii) Summary
The summary reviews the major brushstrokes that contribute to the poet’s prismatic
self-portraiture. This chapter offers a glance at writing as the only emotionally
comfortable space for the poet’s lovelorn soul to exist. The summary also sketches a
possible direction for a comparative study entailing further inquiry into the work of Dahlia
Ravikovitch.
76
The semantic range reveals Ravikovitch’s use of a loaded term. The term is laden not only with similar
connotations as is expected, but with conflicting connotations as well.
24
Chapter One
Dahlia Ravikovitch: Lamenting Poet
1.1
Preamble
Dahlia Ravikovitch is widely known as ‘the lamenting poet’. The original epithet grows
naturally from an analysis of her work on the personal lyrical and collective expressive
levels.1 In the chapters to come this study expands the title to the ‘lamenting lovelorn
soul’. This chapter traces Ravikovitch’s modern Hebrew laments as the contemporary
development of the ancient art of lamentation through its general purposes and
conventions. It calls particular attention to lament in its capacity to communicate protest
and to its role in returning proper presence to appropriated or silenced voices as a
prelude to justice.
1.2
Lament: An Ancient Art Form and Honoured Profession
Lament as an art form is known to have existed since antiquity. Lament as a specialized
skill and an honoured profession is recorded in Hebrew scriptures. In Jeremiah, for
example, God projects a need for widespread lament and mourning as follows:
‫בוֹאינָה‬
ֶ ‫וּת‬
ְ ‫ִה ְתבּוֹנְ נוּ וְ ִק ְראוּ ַל ְמקוֹנְ נוֹת‬
:‫וְ ֶאל ַה ֲח ָכמוֹת ִשׁ ְלחוּ וְ ָתבוֹאנָה‬
‫ֶהי‬
ִ ‫וּת ַמ ֵה ְרנָה וְ ִת ֶשּׂנָה ָע ֵלינוּ נ‬
ְ
2
:‫מיִ ם‬
ָ ‫וְ ֵת ַר ְדנָה ֵעינֵינוּ ִדּ ְמ ָעה וְ ַע ְפ ַע ֵפּינוּ יִ ְזּלוּ‬
[…] Consider, and call for
the mourning women, that they may come: and send for the
skilful women, that they may come: and let them make haste,
and take up a wailing for us, that our eyes may run down with
tears, and our eyelids gush out with waters.3
1
In 1969, Mordecai Shalev wrote a set of newspaper articles called “Dahlia Ravikovitch: meshoreret
meqonenet” [“Dahlia Ravikovitch: Lamenting Poet”]. The designation plays well in terms of assonance
and metathesis with “Buba memukkenet” [“Wind Up Doll”; “Clockwork Doll”], among Ravikovitch’s early
poems, and crystallizes a leaning in her work. The memorable title ensured that the epithet took hold
among her readers. Henceforth: “Meshoreret meqonenet.”
2
Jeremiah 9:16-17.
3
The Jerusalem Bible (Jerusalem: Koren, 1997) Jeremiah 9:16-17. Henceforth: Koren Bible.
25
That lamentation was valued and considered an essential ritual at times of grief is
demonstrated in the Mishna.4 To be respectable, even the least affluent of burial
arrangements for a deceased spouse was to include the hiring of two musicians and a
lamenter:
5
:‫ אפילו עני שבישראל לא יפחות משני חלילים ומקוננת‬:‫רבי יהודה אומר‬
Rabbi Yehuda says: Even the poorest in Israel should not have fewer
than two flutes and a wailing woman.
1.3
Lament as Protest: ‘Exerting Voice’ In the Face of Injustice
The essence of lament is protest. It is effected through ‘exerting voice’ in unjust
situations that rob people of a say and leave individuals bereft of words. Ravikovitch’s
poetry both makes lamenting voices present and laments the absence of voices in
realms where justice stands in question.
Justice is about respect for people’s voices and lives. A prelude to justice calls for
‘making present’ an equitable ratio of voices: voices of the living, the deceased, the
mute, muted and unborn. This premise arises in all layers of Hebrew literature: biblical,
rabbinic, medieval and modern. In the following biblical precedent voice is linked to
lifeblood. Genesis reports a lethal brawl, scant on detail, between brothers in the field.
God confronts Cain with reproach, saying:
6
:‫ֲקים ֵא ַלי ִמן ָה ֲא ָד ָמה‬
ִ ‫יך צֹע‬
ָ ‫אָח‬
ִ ‫ית קוֹל ְדּ ֵמי‬
ָ ‫ֶמה ָע ִשׂ‬
What have you done? Your brother’s blood cries out to
me from the ground!
In this case God makes the deceased’s voice present in absentia by conferring it upon
Abel’s objecting blood.
4
5
6
mKetubot 4:4.
Loc. cit.
Genesis 4:10.
26
Genesis Rabba, a compilation of homiletical midrashim, quotes Rabbi Yudan’s
exegetical elucidation of the collective form of the word for Abel’s blood as follows:
.7‫דם אחיך אין כתיב אלא דמי דמו ודם זרעו‬
What is written is not ‘your brother’s blood’, rather ‘bloods’:
his blood and the blood of his descendants.
God thus ‘makes present’ the voices of those who cannot physically speak for
themselves: the deceased as well as his never-to-be-born descendants. Mishna8
applies the same concept in warnings to witnesses in capital cases regarding the gravity
of their responsibility:
‫הוו יודעין שלא כדיני ממונות דיני נפשות דיני ממונות אדם נותן ממון ומתכפר לו‬
‫דיני נפשות דמו ודם זרעיותיו תלוין בו עד סוף העולם שכן מצינו בקין שהרג את‬
9
[...] ‫אחיו‬
Know that capital cases are not as monetary suits. In monetary suits
a person may give property and effect atonement; in capital cases
the blood and the blood of the offspring depend on the individual
until the end of the world, for we find concerning Cain who
killed his brother […]10
The cautioning of witnesses in the Mishna11 proceeds with a reminder that human
beings are created individually precisely in order to teach that scriptures equates the
destruction of a single soul to the destruction of an entire universe; and similarly,
scriptures equates the preservation of a single soul to the preservation of an entire
7
Genesis Rabba 22:9-10 in: Midrash Breishit Rabba: ‘im mar’ei meqomot ve-hilufei nusha’ot u-ferush
Minhat Yehuda me’et Hanokh ’Albeck. Kitvei Ha-Aqademia le-Mada’ei ha-Yahadut; hotza’at Theodor
Albeck. Hadpasa sheniya ‘im tiqqunim me’et Hanokh ’Albeck: (Yerushalayim, Defus Hemed, 1996. 3
vols.) Vol 2, 216. Henceforth: Albeck, Genesis Rabba. As well, Targum Onkelos for Genesis 4:10
reflects a midrashic stance that the blood crying out to God was that of the future descendants of slain
Abel.
8
mSanhedrin 4:5.
9
Loc. cit..
10
Translation based on: Pinhas Kehati, Mishnah: A New Translation With Commentary by Rabbi Pinhas
Kehati, Edward Levin, transl. (Jerusalem: Eliner Library, Department of Torah Education and Culture
in the Diaspora, 1987), mSanhedrin 4:5. Henceforth: Kehati Mishnah.
11
mSanhedrin 4:5.
27
universe. Justice entails giving, reviving and sustaining voice as it is linked to life or
lifeblood. So does lament poetry.
1.4
Modern Hebrew Lament Poetry
Dahlia Ravikovitch enriches her lament poetry, in fact all genres of her poetry, with the
echoes of classical Jewish sources. Her education is well grounded in the content,
structures and cadences of the bible and the bodies of literature which sprang from it.
She is well versed in the vernacular of her Levantine streets and alleyways, having
grown up in Israel’s urban and rural settings: Ramat Gan, Kibbutz Geva and
neighbourhoods of Haifa. In the surroundings of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem,
she studied modern and classical Hebrew literatures and honed her writing craft.
Ravikovitch is adept at combining and contouring layers and registers of Hebrew for
impact and resonance.
Ravikovitch, like a number of her colleagues such as Yehuda Amichai, Savyon Librecht,
David Avidan, David Grossman and Amos Oz, is of the conviction that we need to
amplify ‘underheard’ human voices, especially those concerned with human needs and
humane interests, not those concerned with vestiges of hegemony. Amichai couches
this conviction as follows:
A group of tourists was
standing around their guide and I became their target marker.
‘You see that man with the baskets? Just right of his head
there’s an arch from the Roman period.’ […] I said to myself:
redemption will only come if their guide tells them, ‘You see
that arch from the Roman period? It’s not important: but next
to it, left and down a bit, there sits a man who’s bought fruit
and vegetables for his family.’12
In the act of lamenting the scarcity of such voices Amichai succeeds in making at least
one heard.
12
Yehuda Amichai, “Tourists,” transl. Glenda Abramson and Tudor Parfitt in: Yehuda Amichai: Poems of
Jerusalem (Jerusalem and Tel Aviv: Schocken, 1987a. Bilingual edition.) 176-177.
28
Eliaz Cohen, a younger contemporary of Ravikovitch, writes directly to God. Cohen
protests that God’s voice is sometimes ‘underheard’ or missing. Cohen is perturbed on
behalf of those who did not13 and cannot14 hear God’s voice in moments when lives are
imperiled and extinguished in the name of elitism and supremacy. He uses the wording
and structure of Keri’at Shema, a central doxology15 of Jewish liturgy, to challenge God
to at least listen to his voice:
‫שׂר ֵאל ֶא ָחד‬
ָ ִ‫ יִ ְשׂ ָר ֵאל ַע ֶמּ ָך י‬,‫נָי‬-ֹ‫ְשׁ ַמע ֲאד‬
‫אָה ְב ָתּ ֶאת יִ ְשׁ ָר ֵאל ַע ֶמּ ָך‬
ַ ְ‫ו‬
‫ְבּ ָכל ְל ָב ְב ָך‬
‫ַפ ְשׁ ָך‬
ְ ‫וּב ָכל נ‬
ְ
‫וּב ָכל ְמא ֶֹד ָך‬
ְ
‫יך ָכּל ַהיּוֹם‬
ָ ‫ֶה ָר ִגים ָע ֶל‬
ֱ ‫וְ ָהיוּ ַה ָבּנִ ים ָה ֵא ֶלּה ֲא ֶשׁר נ‬
‫ַעל ְל ָב ְב ָך‬
‫יך‬
ָ ‫יע‬
ֶ ‫וְ ִשׁנַּנְ ָתּם ִבּ ְר ִק‬
16
[...] :‫וְ ִד ַבּ ְר ָתּ ָבּם‬
Hear, O Lord, Israel your People Israel is One
Love Israel your People
with all your heart
with all your soul
and with all your might
And these children who are being killed over you all day long17 you shall
13
A reference within the poem to glowing blue numbers on arms evokes the branding of Holocaust
victims who perished without hearing God’s voice.
14
“Hear, O God” is the titular poem in a book of Eliaz Cohen’s work. Its subtitle makes reference to “the
Disturbances of 2000-2004”. This was a period of intifada in Israel.
15
Keri’at Shema, enveloped in blessings, is a central theological element of the morning and evening
liturgy. Eliaz Cohen has composed his version especially for the solemn annual High Holy Days. In
Hebrew these are referred to as the Yamim nora’im – Days of Awe, a concept which comes across in
Cohen’s context as ‘Awful’ Days. The initial line of this prayer which Cohen has ironically inverted,
proclaims the unity of God: “Listen, Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.” See: Jonathan Sacks,
ed. and transl., The Koren Siddur, (Jerusalem: Koren, 2009) 98-99.
16
Eliaz Cohen, “Shema ado-nai,” Shema ado-nai: mi-shirei me’ora‘ot 2000-2004 (Raanana: Even
Hoshen, 2004) 7.
17
This expression, “And these children who are being killed over you all day long” evokes Psalms 44:23:
ki ’alekha horagnu kol ha-yom – “Yet for your sake we are killed the whole day long.” This is a direct
allusion to the content of Psalms 44 in which there is an outcry to God to awake from slumber and a
rhetorical probe as to the reason for the aversion of God’s attention while the speakers are left
29
take to heart
and you shall diligently teach Them in your firmament
and recite Them:
[…]
Ravikovitch concentrates on presenting ‘underheard’ human and humane voices. By
contrast she perceives voices which wield overbearing power, such as that of
intolerance, abuse, violence and war as abhorrent, and the injustices inevitably drawn
into their wake as anathema. She was an impressionable youngster when Holocaust
survivors in Israel shared initial whispers of the atrocities of the Sho’a. She was active
as an adult in grass roots peace movements with wide reaching tendrils and worked to
‘make voice present’ for all parties. The sole weapon she wielded in her professional life
against injustice is protest, channelled through irony and poems of lament.
As examples we need only hear a sampling of Ravikovitch’s titles on the injustices of
wars and incursions. The following are included in her 1987 book sardonically titled
’Ahava ’amitit18: Ba-tzafon qofe’im,19 Tinoq lo horegim pa‘amayim,20 ‘Egla ‘arufa
[Neckbroken Heifer] and ‘Al ha-yahas li-yeladim be-‘itot milhama.21
Below are excerpts from two types of contemporary Hebrew lament poems which
protest injustice. The first revives, performs and sustains voices of parties concerned
with lifeblood. The second laments the absence of voice.
unprotected as “sheep for slaughter”. They are dying ’al qiddush ha-shem: they are being slaughtered
over their defence of God’s sanctity.
18
Dahlia Ravikovitch, “’Ahava ’amitit,” [“Real Love,”] (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz hameuchad, 1987).
19
Ravikovitch, “Ba-tzafon qofe’im,” [“Up North People are Freezing,”] Kol ha-shirim, 247-248.
20
Ravikovitch, “Tinoq lo horegim pa‘amayim,” [“You Do Not Kill a Baby Twice,] Kol ha-shirim, 249-250.
21
Ravikovitch, “‘Al ha-yahas li-yeladim be-‘itot milhama,” [“On the Attitude Toward Children in Wartime,”]
Kol ha-shirim, 255-266.
30
(i)
Presenting Lamenting Voices
Ravikovitch’s poem ’Eikh Hong Kong nehersa22 [How Hong Kong Was Destroyed]
grieves over the deplorable plight of child-prostitutes in Hong Kong. It concurrently
mourns the level to which the civilization of the legendary silk route has sunk. The
children, in lament within the lament, weep over the toll taken on their bodies and the
loss of human life around them. Sadly the perfunctory platitude they utter upon learning
of murder makes the event sound like a recognized and routine part of their experience
of the world.
‫יהן‬
ֶ ‫אוֹר ֵח‬
ְ ‫ַרק ַהזּוֹנוֹת ַה ְקּ ַטנּוֹת עוֹד ְמ ַק ְבּלוֹת ֶאת‬
,‫ְבּ ִב ְג ֵדי ֶמ ִשׁי ֻמ ְכ ָתּ ִמים‬
.‫ָסים‬
ִ ‫ְבּ ֻקבּוֹת ְק ַטנּוֹת ְמ ֵלאוֹת ַפּנּ‬
‫ַפּחוֹת ַבּבּ ֶֹקר‬
ְ ‫ֲא ָחדוֹת ֵמ ֶהן ִמ ְתי‬
.‫ַעל ְבּ ָשׂ ָרן ַה ַמּ ְר ִקיב‬
:‫שׁוֹאלוֹת‬
ֶ ‫ֶה ַרג ִמ‬
ֱ ‫וְ ִאם נ‬
ֲ ‫ישׁהוּ ֵהן‬
?‫כּוּשׁי‬
ִ ‫הוֹ ִסינִ י אוֹ‬-‫הוֹ‬
.‫סּוּרים‬
ִ ִ‫ ַה ְלוַאי ֶשׁלֹּא ֵמת ְבּי‬,‫ַה ִמּ ְס ֵכּן‬
‫אוֹר ִחים‬
ְ ‫יעים ִראשׁוֹנֵי ָה‬
ִ ‫דּוּמים ַמ ִגּ‬
ִ ‫וּכ ָבר ִבּ ְשׁ ַעת ִדּ ְמ‬
ְ
[...]
,‫אוֹקיָנוֹס‬
ְ ‫קוֹנְ ג ַעל ָה‬-‫וְ הוֹנְ ג‬
.‫עוֹלם‬
ָ ‫ְתּלוּיָה ְכּ ַפנָּס ִצ ְבעוֹנִ י ַעל וָו ִבּ ְק ֵצה ָה‬
[...]
‫תוֹך ַה ֶמּ ִשׁי‬
ְ ‫ַפּ ְחנָה ְבּ‬
ַ ‫וְ ַרק ַהזּוֹנוֹת ַה ְקּ ַטנּוֹת ִתּ ְתי‬
‫ֲדיִ ן‬
ַ ‫ֶשׁ ַה ְגּ ָב ִרים ע‬
‫ֲדיִ ן‬
ַ‫ע‬
.‫אוֹתן ְבּ ִב ְטנָן‬
ָ ‫צוֹב ִטים‬
ְ
[...]
‫קוֹנְ ג‬-‫ְבּ ָמקוֹם ֶשׁ ָהיְ ָתה הוֹנְ ג‬
,‫ֶשׁנוֹ ֶכּ ֶתם ֶא ָחד ָורֹד‬
ְ‫י‬
23
.‫ֶח ְציוֹ ַבּ ָשּׁ ַמיִ ם וְ ֶח ְציוֹ ַבּיָּם‬
Only the little prostitutes are still receiving their guests
in stained silk clothes,
in little booths full of lanterns.
A few of them weep in the morning
over their rotting flesh.
22
23
Ravikovitch, “’Eikh Hong Kong nehersa,” Kol ha-shirim, 119-121.
Loc. cit.
31
And if someone is killed they ask:
Ho-ho Chinese or Black?
Poor soul, hopefully he didn’t die in agony.
And already at twilight the first guests arrive
[…] Hong Kong is over the ocean,
suspended like a colourful lantern on a hook at the edge of the world.
[…]
And only the little prostitutes weep in their silk
that the men are still
still
pinching them in the stomach.
[…]
Where Hong Kong once stood
there is a pink stain,
half in the sky, half in the sea.
This poem exhibits some of the classic hallmarks of biblical and medieval Hebrew
lament. Phrases are repeated as refrain: “Only the little prostitutes are […] / And only
the little prostitutes weep […]” Weeping and aspirated sounds such as “Ho-ho” are
incorporated imparting an element of ritual crying. The motif of pinching one’s own flesh
or beating one’s own body24 as a practice of skilled lamenting women in order to elicit
their own empathetic staccato sounds of anguish. It is dreadfully upsetting that the
grown men mentioned sadistically inflict parallel torment on the children.
The anonymous speaker observes in stages that the once poppy-red of Chinese silk
associated with the local robes and lanterns, becomes stained and subsequently
drained of its rich hue. Instead of comparing the region’s grandeur to the most
magnificent of flora, fauna or heavenly hosts,25 as was standard practice for praise in
24
Among the grief and lament rituals which the Mishna discusses in relation to burials occurring on
rabbinic holidays, mMo‘ed Qatan 3 9 outlines the lament-linked practice of beating one’s own body.
25
In medieval Hebrew poetry grandeur is often invoked through comparisons of the subject to the
heavenly hosts and phenomena of natural beauty. For example, in a panegyric dedicated to the
memory of his patron, Solomon Ibn Gabirol compares the venerated Yequtiel Ibn Hasan to the setting
sun clad in crimson silkspun threads, cloaked in the scarlet of the western sky:
‫ְשׁה תוֹלָע ְל ִמ ְכסֶה‬
ָ ‫ ְכּאִלּוּ ָלב‬/‫ְראֵה ֶשׁ ֶמשׁ ְלעֵת ֶערֶב ֲא ֻדמָּה‬
,‫ וְרוּ ַח יָם בְּאַ ְרגָּמָן ְתּ ַכסֶּה‬/‫ַשּׁט ַפּ ֲאתֵי צָפוֹן וְיָמִין‬
ֵ ‫ְתּפ‬
[...]
Solomon Ibn Gabirol, “‘Al mot Yequti’el,” [“Upon the Death of Yequtiel,”] Ha-shira ha-ivrit bi-sefarad uve-provence, Hayim Schirmann, ed. (Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, 1960; fourth printing 2006), Vol. 1, 202.
Henceforth: HPSP.
32
biblical and medieval Hebrew lament, the speaker conveys the faded, sullied status of
Hong Kong’s former glory. She underscores the decline by projecting the fractured
image of Hong Kong as a distant blemish, beyond the reaches of the horizon.
In ‘making present’ the voices of the child-prostitutes the poet is attuned to their natural
mindset: that is, as children they do not necessarily perceive the full extent of the
injustices forced upon them. Instead they focus on specifics that ail them in their
immediate present: the physical signs of decay that they notice upon dressing; the
trepidation that they feel when they hear of a murder; the insult and pain that they bear
when they are “still / still” pinched. This trend of tender age makes their plight all the
more heartbreaking.
The plaintive tone that comes through their faltering repetition is reminiscent of weeping.
A similar effect was formalized as a distinctive metric convention of biblical and
medieval Hebrew laments. It is known as miqtzav ha-tzole‘a – the limping metre. The
verbal limping was predicated on syllable manipulation. The soger – closing hemistich
of a stanza is a syllable or two shorter than its delet – opening hemistich.26 The metric
imbalance produces mimetic weeping.
Behold the sun toward evening, red / as though dressed in crimson silken garb,
She will shed the last glimmers of north and east / and don the scarlet of the west wind,
[…]
In describing the physical grandeur of a beloved, Ibn Gabirol compares her statuesque physique to a
stately tree and her splendour to the that of the sun (HPSP Vol. 1, 213):
,‫ָת ְך‬
ֵ ‫ָפי‬
ְ ‫ וְ ַכ ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ ְבּי‬/‫קוֹמ ֵת ְך‬
ָ ‫אַתּ ְבּ‬
ְ ‫ְכּ ָת ָמר‬
[...]
You are like a date palm in stature / and as the sun in beauty,
[…]
He addresses another unidentified young woman as a dove and as a flower indigenous to the land of
Israel, both named in connection with the Song of Songs (HPSP Vol. 1, 195):
[...] ‫אַתּ יוֹנָה ֲח ַב ֶצּ ֶלת ְשׁרוֹנִ ים‬
ְ ְ‫ו‬
And you, O dove, rose of Sharon
26
A classic example is evident in II Samuel 19:1, in the lament of King David over the death of his
estranged son Absalom who became entangled by the hair in an oak tree while fleeing. The second
part of the lament is two syllables shorter than its precedent, conveying the faltering speech that
occurs during weeping:
33
By amplifying the voices of the child-prostitutes Dahlia Ravikovitch protests injustices
committed by those adults who exert inappropriate authority over children’s psyches
and bodies. She is all too familiar with insufferable, inequitable power circumstances
from the days of her own childhood. From age six and a half to age thirteen she was
physically and emotionally abused by a certain “HG”.27 “HG” was the adult in charge of
the after-school agricultural work of the children at the kibbutz28 where she lived from
age six. This was during the period following the death of her father in a car accident.29
The malevolent “HG” compounded the abuse with social ostracism by manipulating the
collective sanctions of Ravikovitch’s peers. He thus ensured that justice and voice
eluded her on all fronts. From these experiences, Ravikovitch intuited ways to make
speech present for those whose voices had been appropriated.
Yehuda Amichai is also adroit at making speech present on behalf of those in distress.
He does so by portraying voices almost graphically. In a poem that begins on two facing
mountain tops Amichai pictures people from two separate communities, each in urgent
quest: a shepherd in search of his goat and a father in search of his little boy:
,‫רוֹ ֶעה ֲע ָר ִבי ְמ ַח ֵפּשׂ ְגּ ִדי ְבּ ַהר ִציּוֹן‬
.‫וּ ָב ָהר ִממּוּל ֲאנִ י ְמ ַח ֵפּשׂ ֶאת ְבּנִ י ַה ָקּ ָטן‬
‫רוֹ ֶעה ֲע ָר ִבי וְ אָב יְ הוּ ִדי‬
[...] ‫אַב ָשׁלוֹם ְבּנִ י ְבנִ י‬
ְ ‫ְבּנִ י‬
:‫אַב ָשׁלוֹם ְבּנִ י ְבנִ י‬
ְ
My son Absalom my son, my son […]
Absalom my son, my son.
27
Dahlia Karpel, “Ba’a ve-halekha,” Ha-’aretz: Musaf, 18.08.06. Karpel wrote a biographical retrospective
a year after the poet died. Dahlia Ravikovitch, her twin brothers and mother moved to Qevutzat Geva
after Levi Ravikovitch was killed in a car accident. Karpel explains that Ravikovitch never fully
acclimated to the ways of kibbutz life or the social conventions. By age thirteen and a half, she went to
live in Haifa and proceeded to go through a series of foster families.
28
A character in Ravikovitch’s prose is modelled on this individual. He applies the pointed toe of his shoe
to the bare heels of the kibbutz children to hurry them along to the fields; he limits their water-drinking
privileges while they work in the hot sun; and he micromanages the sentiments and self-importance of
the members of the student tribunal which has the power to elevate or ostracize its members.
29
Ravikovitch’s father, Levi Ravikovitch, born Leo in Russia, had come to Israel from Hong Kong.
34
.‫ְבּ ִכ ְשׁלוֹ ָנם ַה ְזּ ַמנִּ י‬
‫קוֹלוֹת ְשׁ ֵנינוּ נִ ְפ ָגּ ִשׁים ֵמ ַעל‬
.‫ְִב ֵר ַכת ַה ֻשּׂ ְל ָטן ָבּ ֵע ֶמק ָבּ ֶא ְמ ַצע‬
[...]
,‫יחים‬
ִ ‫אוֹתם ֵבּין ַה ִשּׂ‬
ָ ‫ ָכּ ְך ָמ ָצאנוּ‬-‫אַחר‬
ַ
.‫וּבכוּ וְ ָצ ֲחקוּ ִבּ ְפנִ ים‬
ָ ‫קוֹלוֹתינוּ ָח ְזרוּ ֵא ֵלינוּ‬
ֵ
ְ‫ו‬
An Arab shepherd is searching for his goat on Mount Zion
and on the opposite mountain I am searching
for my little boy.
An Arab shepherd and a Jewish father
both in their temporary failure.
Our voices meet
above the Sultan’s pool in the valley between us.
[…]
Afterward we found them among the bushes
and our voices came back inside us, laughing and crying.30
United by the significance of their respective searches, the voices of the shepherd and
the father meet. If voices were visible we might picture them unfurling horizontally
toward one another. Perhaps each would resemble the voice of the ram’s horn reported
as seen by all Israelites while standing in ceremony at the foot of Mount Sinai.31
Regrettably, once the ‘kids’ are found the unity dissipates. The voices disengage and
ultimately retreat into their separate larynxes. The lament is reserved for the end:
‫אַחר ֵבּן‬
ַ ‫אַחר ְגּ ִדי אוֹ‬
ַ ‫פּוּשׂים‬
ִ ‫ַה ִח‬
‫ָהיוּ ָתּ ִמיד‬
.‫ַה ְת ָח ַלת ָדּת ֲח ָד ָשׁה ֶבּ ָה ִרים ָה ֵא ֶלּה‬
30
Yehuda Amichai, “An Arab Shepherd is Searching for His Goat on Mount Zion,” transl. Chana Bloch
in: Yehuda Amichai: Poems of Jerusalem (Jerusalem and Tel Aviv: Schocken, 1987b. Bilingual
edition.)
142-143. Henceforth: Amichai, “Shepherd.”
31
Exodus 20:14.
... ‫ידם וְ ֵאת קוֹל ַהשּׁ ָֹפר וְ ֶאת ָה ָהר ָע ֵשׁן‬
ִ ‫וְ ָכל ָה ָעם ר ִֹאים ֶאת ַהקּוֹלֹת וְ ֶאת ַה ַלּ ִפּ‬
And all the people were seeing the thunder and the lightning and the sound of the
ram’s horn and the mountain smoking …
35
Searching for a goat or a son
has always been the beginning
of a new religion in these mountains.32
What sounds like a fresh beginning underscoring shared values concludes as an ageold chronicle of separateness. The hopeful gesture toward personal ties, spiritual
synchronicity, domestic and global accord is abruptly undermined. The valley has
become an abyss. After all, asked Heidegger, “What are poets for?”33 They are for
singing songs of the abyss. After all, according to Bialik, what are poems for? They are
to convey the song, tears and laughter that “rise from the void.”34 At least poets and
poems do sing or laugh or cry. At least their voices are heard.
(ii)
Lamenting the Absence of Voice
In Rehifa be-gova namukh35 by Dahlia Ravikovitch we hear no glimmer of promise at all.
The poem is about the rape of a young shepherdess isolated in the mountains. Not only
does the subject evince no hope, she emits no voice whatsoever. The speaker is so
affected by the violence to the shepherdess and her own shock that she can barely
muster her own voice. She is immobile, suspended as if in mid-air. It takes all her
resources to hover at low altitude and insist over and over in mantra-like refrain, “I am
not here. / […] I am not here.”
‫יהן‬
ֶ ‫חוֹר‬
ֵ ‫ֶיה ַרק ָח ְרגוּ ֵמ‬
ָ ‫וְ ַה ְקּ ַטנָּה ֵעינ‬
,‫ָבשׁ ַכּ ֶח ֶרס‬
ֵ ‫ִח ָכּה י‬
‫אָחזָה ָבּהּ‬
ֲ ְ‫ְכּ ֶשׁיָּד ָק ָשׁה ָל ְפ ָתה ֶאת ְשׂ ָע ָרהּ ו‬
36
.‫ק ְרטוֹב ֶח ְמ ָלה‬
ֻ ‫ְללּא‬
32
Yehuda Amichai, “Shepherd,” 142-143.
33
Martin Heidegger, “What Are Poets For?” Poetry, Language, Thought (New York: Perennial Classics,
2001. Originally published as New York: Harper and Row, 1971) 87.
34
Bialik writes of the impact of awe conveyed by words at their naissance. He adds that where words
leave off, languages of song, tears and laughter can carry on, in: H. N. Bialik, “Giluy ve-kisuy balashon,” Knesset: divrei sifrut ed. H. N. Bialik (Ha-keren li-temikhat soferim mi-yesodo shel Hillel
Zaltopolsky; Bezarna: Defus Moriya, 1915) 251-258.
35
Dahlia Ravikovitch, “Rehifa be-gova namukh,” [“Hovering at Low Altitude,”] Kol ha-shirim, 219-221.
36
Loc. cit.
36
And the little one her eyes just bulged out of their sockets
her palette dry as earthenware,
while a rough hand stroked her hair and gripped her
without a single iota of compassion.
This lament poem has traveled a fair distance from its classic ancestor. This one does
not ask ’eikh or ’eikha? meaning “how?”37 nor ‘ad ’ana?38 ‘ad matai?39 meaning “until
when?” revealing minute hope for release from suffering. It does not hint at daring to
fantasize future with phrases like mi yiten…40 – “If only…” In the spectre of rape it does
not anticipate at all. Voice is so curtailed that the poem, in fact, barely sings. With the
voice of her pen, however, Ravikovitch does manage to protest the inertia that stands in
the way of intervention in atrocities of inhumane brutal force.
37
The words ’eikh and ’eikha initiate the classic rhetorical questions of biblical laments. David laments
the deaths of King Saul and Jonathan, repeating a refrain of ’eikh nafelu gibborim –“how the mighty are
fallen” in II Samuel 1:17-27. The scroll of Lamentations, called ’Eikha in Hebrew, opens with that very
rhetorical question: ’Eikha – “How is it possible for the city to sit solitary, the city that was teeming with
people? How is it she has become like a widow?” (Lamentations 1:1).
38
Another classic rhetorical question of biblical laments begins with ‘ad ’ana – “How long?” “Until when?”
Psalms 13:2 asks this question and repeats it as refrain: “How long will you forget me, O Lord?
Forever? How long will you avert your face from me?”
39
‘Ad matai is similar to ‘ad ’ana in meaning and function. Psalms 80:5, for example, incorporates ‘ad
matai in the following rhetorical question lamenting God’s suspension of merciful attention: “[…] how
long will you be angry against the prayer of your people?” In his early modern Hebrew poetry, Bialik
uses a combination of these rhetorical laments to challenge ‘Heaven’ and Justice to demonstrate
presence and mercy in view of the terrifying pogroms of Kishinev in 1903. In: H. N. Bialik, “’Al hashehita,” Hayyim Nahman Bialik: ha-shirim, Avner Holtzman, ed., (Tel Aviv: Devir, 2004) 249, Bialik
writes:
,‫ ִל ִבּי ֵמת וְ ֵאין עוֹד ְתּ ִפ ָלּה ִבּ ְשׂ ָפ ָתי‬-‫ֲאנִ י‬
-‫ ֵאין ִתּ ְקוָה עוֹד‬-‫אָז ַלת יָד אַף‬
ְ ‫וּכ ָבר‬
ְ
?‫ ָמ ָתי‬-‫ ַעד‬,‫אָנָה‬-‫ ַעד‬,‫ ָמ ַתי‬-‫ַעד‬
I – my heart has died and there is no more prayer upon my lips,
And I’m already powerless and there is no more hope –
How long, until when, how long?
40
Mi yiten is not limited to laments but used frequently in them to express a rhetorical desire akin to ‘if
only’. In Jeremiah 8:23 the prophet Jeremiah presents God’s disappointment over the backsliding
ways of the people and the inclination to lament the ends they have provoked God to mete out: “If only
my head were waters and my eyes a spring of tears, that I might weep day and night over the slain
ones of the daughter of my people.”
37
1.5
An Equitable Calculus of Voices in the Face of Injustice
Like their biblical and medieval ancestors, the speakers of some modern Hebrew
laments such as that of Shema adonai by Eliaz Cohen, rail against the phenomenon of
hester panim – the perceived aversion of God’s face from human predicaments. Some
modern Hebrew laments such as ’Eikh Hong Kong nehersa and Rehifa be-gova namukh
by Dahlia Ravikovitch, rail against the aversion of society’s attention from human
injustices. With remonstration in mind Walter Bruggeman posits the purpose of protest
as an instrument that:
[…] shifts the calculus and redresses the distribution
of power between the two parties, so that the petitionary party
is taken seriously and the God who is addressed is newly engaged
in the crisis in a way that puts God at risk.41
In reframing I shall take the liberty of borrowing the term “calculus” from Walter
Bruggeman. Lament in general revives, performs and sustains voice. Contemporary
Hebrew lament poetry serves as protest whose function is to ‘make present’ an
equitable calculus of voices in the face of injustice.
1.6
The Need for Contemporary Laments: To Revive the
Spoken Word and Reconstruct Worlds
Justice will only be served if people suffering from violence and oppression manage to
find their own voices again and to reconstruct their destroyed universes. Rachel Adler
attends to the potential of laments in this regard.
In a memorial lecture delivered in March 2006 in New York, Rachel Adler outlined a
history and the essential properties of laments. A central tenet of Adler’s thinking builds
on observations advanced by Elaine Scarry in her book called The Body in Pain: The
Making and Unmaking of the World.42 As the title suggests a person’s universe comes
41
Walter Bruggeman, “The Costly Loss of Lament,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, 36
(1986): 59. I thank Rachel Adler for this reference.
42
Elaine Scarry, The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1985.) Henceforth: Scarry, The Body in Pain.
38
apart at the seams as a result of excruciating pain. Further, the agony unravels one’s
sense of self and “all that gives rise to and is in turn made possible by language.”43
Scarry adds that “to be present when the person in pain rediscovers speech is almost to
be present at the birth or rebirth of language.”44
It is the language aspect coupled with the deconstruction of the individual’s cosmos that
intrigues Rachel Adler. She envisions this combination as the flip side of the creation of
the world through the spoken word. She positions lament and its properties as
desperately needed language and ritual for moments when speech has evaporated as a
result of the destruction of a person’s world. It follows that to be present when words of
lament are uttered, is to be present at the groundbreaking ceremony for the recreation
of the individual’s personal universe.
Rachel Adler broadens Elaine Scarry’s findings positing that many of the conclusions
regarding physical pain “are also germane to sufferings from emotional and spiritual
pain.”45 To magnify I would assert that they apply to situations of oppression, violence
and overbearing power so overt, or so subtle, that an individual or a group is left
temporarily or permanently bereft of speech.
In commenting on the role of meqonenot – the professional lamenting women known in
biblical and rabbinic sources, Mordecai Shalev compares bereavement to infancy. Just
as in infancy when a baby cries without the ability to express sensations in words and
the caregivers must try to discern what the baby is feeling and needs, so must the
lamenters take the part of the bereaved. About contemporary mourning, mourner and
lamentation Shalev writes:
It is a legitimate, ritualized, recognized regression that occurs
in order to prevent an individual, private, regression that ravages;
43
Scarry, The Body in Pain, 30.
44
Scarry, The Body in Pain, 172.
45
Rachel Adler, “A Theology of Lament,” [a speech presented on March 15, 2006 at HUC/JIR, New
York: Dr. Samuel Atlas Memorial Lecture: For These I Weep.] This speech is posted online at:
huc.edu/chronicle/68/articles/TheologyLament. Adler delivered excerpts of this speech on November
9, 2006 at the University of Toronto, Wolfond Centre.
39
and the lamenter who speaks about the ‘she’, or speaks on her
behalf, to the ‘you’ – fulfils, for her, an essential role.46
During a session given at the University of Toronto in the fall of 2006 Rachel Adler
expressed a strong interest in the composition of contemporary laments for instances in
which words elude even the most articulate: the dissolution of a long term committed
relationship, miscarriage, rape. Language itself is insufficient to express the extent of
the turmoil and experience of injustice. Contemporary laments would help fill the gap in
voice and serve as a first step toward reconstructing a person’s world.
1.7
Summary: Lamenting Soul
To make it a world where justice can prevail all voices concerned must be sounded and
heard. Contemporary Hebrew lament, in its capacity as protest against injustice, is an
instrument that can ‘make present’ an equitable calculus of voices so that justice may
be brought to bear. Lament has the potential to keep our palettes moist and to keep our
feet firmly on the ground so that our mouths can take on the demands of moral
responsibility. Lament has the potential to prevent voices from being silenced, stolen or
even temporarily lost and to prevent people’s voices from retreating inside themselves.
Lament has the potential to keep voices meeting, over terra firma, not just over the
proverbial abyss. It can help deconstruct disrupted worlds and reconstruct whole ones.
Lament can help sustain human dignity and life in the present; and lament can help
sustain human dignity and many more lives in the future.
1.8
Dahlia Ravikovitch: Lamenting Lovelorn Soul
As this chapter shows, the original epithet ‘lamenting poet’ emerges from an
examination of the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch. The heading of Shalev’s newspaper
articles ensured that the title took hold among her readers. Forty years on, through
analysis of more of the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch, the coming chapters develop and
expand her title of respect as the ‘lamenting lovelorn soul’.
46
Mordecai Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” Part 4, Ha-’aretz: musaf, 2.4.69
40
Chapter Two
Faint With Love: Poetry As Self-writing
2.1
Preface
As set out in the thesis statement and description of methodology, this study examines
the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch as self-writing, nestled in the wide embrace of écriture
féminine: it regards selected poems as the verbal self-portraiture of their speaker. This
chapter surveys the basic elements of self-writing in the oeuvre which contribute to the
speaker’s prismatic construction of self in general, and as a lovelorn persona in
particular. These elements are illustrated with excerpts of Ravikovitch’s poems.
The excerpts chosen show that the persona offers constructions of self in retrospect, in
the moment, and in prospect. Aspects of the poems which epitomize the persona’s
poetry as écriture féminine, aspects of her unique and uniquely encoded figures
d’altérité, and aspects of the poetry enriched through postmodern poetics, will be
highlighted in relation to seminal verbal self portraits, as the chapters unfold. To begin,
below is an articulation of self-writing situated within the broad genre of autobiographical
writing.
2.2
Self-writing
Self-writing is one of the strands of writing sheltered under the capacious canopy of
autobiographical writing. The term ‘self-writing’ conveys a process of construction of self
through writing that does not adhere to a linear narrative as does much of memoir, and
is not confined to prose as is a preponderance of the autobiographical genre.
In outlining the evolution of autobiography, Timothy Dow Adams notes some relatively
recent shifts. One salient modification is a broadening of the scope of autobiography to
include forms previously not taken into account:
[…] in addition to biography, memoir and diary, literary scholars
began to consider journal, letters, personal literary criticism, confession, oral history, daybook, documentary, travel writing, testimonio, film
41
and television autobiographies, performance art, and as-told-to
autobiography, as well as poetry.1
Poetry, then, is acknowledged as having made its way into the canon of autobiography.
The artifacts of self-writing in poetry may be considered verbal ‘metaphors of self’, to
borrow an idiom from a book title by James Olney.2 This study will ultimately examine
some specific ‘metaphors of self’ that the persona presents in the corpus: among them
are a golden apple, a poet, a figure of royalty, a skilled scribe, a shipwreck and a voice
of responsibility. This initial chapter will focus on the phenomenon of construction of self
in general and survey the elements that inform the construction of this self.
Construction of self through self-writing is acknowledged, in studies of gendered selfidentity, to be a central enterprise of women’s autobiographical writing.3 What is striking
about Ravikovitch’s work is that in the process of self-construction, her persona conveys
not only retrospect and the somewhat less commonly countenanced prospect, but her
contemporary self as well.
The contemporary self requires a complex and demanding writing process of selfconstruction for, as the philosopher Heraclites, cited in Plato’s Cratylus,4 pointed out
long ago, it is not possible to step more than once into the identical river. The flow of
time and the flow of the current make the present moment a bygone moment in less
time than it takes for a heart to beat. Ravikovitch’s persona accomplishes contemporary
projections of self largely by writing her bios through her consciousness.
The term “bios” is used in this study in the way that Olney offers as “both the course of a
life seen as a process, rather than a stable entity, and the unique psychic configuration
1
Timothy Dow Adams, preface, Light Writing and Life Writing: Photography in Autobiography (Chapel
Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press, 2000) xi-xxii. Henceforth: Adams Light Writing and
Life Writing.
2
James Olney, Metaphors of Self (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972).
3
Personal Narratives Group, Interpreting Women’s Lives: Feminist Theory and Personal Narratives
(Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1989) 5.
4
Plato, Cratylus, transl. C.D. C. Reeve (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1998), xliv –xlvi.
42
that is this life and no other.”5 The term “consciousness” is referred to in the context that
James Olney proposes as follows:
[…]’life’ where it does not signify an historical matter, the course
of a certain number of years, but instead means spirit, or
vital principle, or the act of consciousness, or transcendent
reality… Life in all these latter senses does not stretch back
across time but extends down to the roots of individual being;
it is atemporal, committed to a vertical thrust from consciousness down into the
unconscious rather than to a horizontal thrust from
the present into the past. 6
This aspect of ‘transcendent reality’ with its vertical descent into the unconscious is
similar to a concept that Hélène Cixous advances as central to the writing process of
écriture féminine.7 As will be seen through examination of the persona’s verbal selfportraits in the coming chapters, much of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poetry exemplifies this
process.
2.3
Lovelorn Persona
Overall the persona of the poems portrays herself as acutely lovelorn and torn between
remembrance and forgetting in matters of love and death. She is holat ’ahava – as
deeply lovesick as the female figure at the heart of one of the love poems in the Song of
Songs. That figure sings in a tone close to lament:
8
:‫אַה ָבה אָנִ י‬
ֲ ‫חוֹלת‬
ַ ‫פּוּחים ִכּי‬
ִ ‫ַס ְמּכוּנִ י ָבּ ֲא ִשׁישׁוֹת ַר ְפּדוּנִ י ַבּ ַתּ‬
Sustain me with sweet-delicacies,
Bolster me with apples,
For I am sick with love.9
5
Olney, “Memory/Bios,” 241.
6
Olney, “Memory/Bios,” 239.
7
Hélène Cixous, Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing, trans. Sarah Cornell and Susan Sellers (New
York: Columbia University Press, 1993) 118. Henceforth: Cixous, Ladder of Writing.
8
Song of Songs 2:5.
9
Song of Songs 2:5. See also: Introduction: Segment (i) Lamenting Poet, Lovelorn Soul.
43
At the heart of the persona’s lovesickness is a sad reality: she suffers from love. She
never manages to find love in the ‘right’ proportions. She receives too little and gives too
much. Her awareness that she suffers a dearth of love on the receiving end contributes
to a flawed construction of self. Her awareness arises from an indelible memory etched
during childhood and resounds in the following words:
10
.‫אַחת‬
ַ ‫אַה ָבה‬
ֲ ‫הוּא ֵאינוֹ יָכוֹל ְל ַד ֵבּר ִלי ִמ ַלּת‬
He is unable to utter a single word of love.
The speaker’s father, struck down by a car, is the subject of the excerpt above. The void
left in the speaker’s soul by virtue of his inaccessible love plays a critical role in the way
she perceives her self. As a potential recipient of love, its inaccessibility leaves her
forever in want.
Apprehending that even all the love in the world would be too little for her, the speaker
perseverates over love in the abstract:
11
‫ֻל ָך‬
ְ ‫אוֹת ָך כּ‬
ְ ‫ִאלּוּ ָיכ ְֹל ִתּי ְל ַה ִשּׂיג‬
,‫ֻל ָך‬
ְ ‫אוֹת ָך כּ‬
ְ ‫יך ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ִלי ְל ַה ִשּׂיג‬
ְ ‫ֵא‬
If I could have all of you
how could I possibly get all of you
The speaker who laments that love is not always accessible realizes that she, herself,
goes ‘overboard’ when she falls in love:
‫אוֹה ֶבת ֶאת ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ‬
ֶ ‫אָה ְב ִתּי אוֹתוֹ ְכּמוֹ ֶשׁ ַח ָמּנִ ית‬
ַ
.‫נוֹטה ֵא ָליו‬
ָ ‫וּכמוֹ ֶשׁ ִהיא‬
ְ
‫וְ לֹא ִמ ְפּנֵי ֶשׁהוּא ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ‬
12
.‫וְ לֹא ֶשׁ ֲאנִ י ַח ָמּנִ ית‬
10
Ravikovitch, (untitled) “[‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela],” [“Standing on the Road at Night”], Kol ha-shirim,
24.
11
Ravikovitch, “Hishtadlut nosefet,” [“Another Attempt,”] Kol ha-shirim, 83-84.
12
Ravikovitch, “Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur,” “[Limits,”] Kol ha-shirim, 178.
44
I loved him as a sunflower loves the sun
and leans toward it.
Not that he’s the sun
nor I a sunflower.
The hints of inclination toward sun worship suggest that the speaker’s excesses in
loving reach near-idolatrous proportions.13
The persona laments that even familial love can fall short, in a poem whose title speaks
volumes:
14
.‫יתית ֵאינָּה ְכּ ִפי ֶשׁ ִהיא נִ ְר ֵאית‬
ִ ‫ָה ֲא ָה ָבה ָה ֲא ִמ‬
True Love Is Not All That It Seems.
In the same poem the speaker laments her observation that people love themselves
with more devotion than they do their friends, their children, and colleagues, and at
present with more attentiveness than even they had lavished upon themselves
previously. Despite the fact that this love of self represents a degree of improvement in
disposition, she finds it fatally lamentable for it constitutes only a pitifully minor
increment:
‫[ ִל ְפנֵי ֳח ָד ִשׁים ְמ ַע ִטּים‬...]
‫ָקה‬
ָ ‫יהה ֲחז‬
ָ ‫גּוּפנוּ ְכּ ִמ‬
ֵ ‫נִ ְת ַקף‬
15
.‫יך ֶאת ַע ְצמוֹ ִבּ ְד ִחיפוּת ִמן ַהגָּג‬
ְ ‫ְל ַה ְשׁ ִל‬
[…] a mere two months ago
our body was seized by a powerful yen
to urgently hurl itself from the rooftop.
The persona experiences an impulse to die when she feels lovesick, whether from
giving too much or receiving too little. This phenomenon is apparent in a number of
poems in which the persona, suffering in the context of love, resolves to go up in flames
13
The inclination toward the sun is reminiscent of ancient sun worship, such as the veneration of the
ancient Egyptian sun deity, Ra.
14
Ravikovitch, “Ha-’ahava ha-’amitit ’eina kefi she-hi nir’eit,” Kol ha-shirim, 242-243.
15
Loc. cit.
45
or extinguish her pain in the depths of the ocean. A self-portrait that encompasses both
will be examined in Chapter Five.
In more attenuated moments of reflection on the casual ease she observes of people in
enjoying love and life, the persona is given to lament. In a poem called Shiveron Lev bagan16 [Heartbreak in the Park] the speaker observes the natural manner of parents,
seniors, truant schoolchildren and waterfowl. What gives her pause are the couples
keeping one another company in the café. Their courtship behaviour and the eros that
proliferates in the atmosphere, as the vapours of Ravikovitch’s symbolic ‘vanilla’,17 break
the speaker’s heart and appropriate her power of speech:
,‫זּוֹר ַח‬
ֵ ‫ארק ַה‬
ְ ‫ְבּ ַהיְ ד ַפּ‬
[…]
‫ַשׂ ְמ ִתּי ִל ִבּי ְל ָה ִבין‬
.‫עוֹלם‬
ָ ‫אָבד ְל‬
ַ ‫הוֹל ְך ְל ָשׁ ָעה ְכּ ִאלּוּ‬
ֵ ‫ֶשׁ ָכּל ַה‬
.‫יח וָנִ יל‬
ַ ‫ נָפוֹץ ֵר‬,‫ ַבּ ָקּ ֶפה ֶה ָענֹג‬,‫ִממּוּל‬
‫יהם‬
ֶ ‫אָספוּ ֶאת ְמ ִעיל נְ ֵשׁ‬
ְ ‫ימים‬
ִ ‫ְגּ ָב ִרים נְ ִע‬
[…]
.
,‫ָכּל ֵא ֶלּה ָשׁ ְברוּ ֶאת ִל ִבּי‬
18
.‫ֶע ְתּקוּ ִמ ִלּים‬
ְ ‫ִמ ִפי נ‬
In glowing Hyde Park,
[...]
I attempted to understand
that what is transient is forever lost
Opposite, in the café, diffuse was the scent of vanilla.
Nice gentlemen took the coats of their ladies.
[…]
All these broke my heart,
Words were banished from my mouth.
16
Ravikovitch, “Shiveron lev ba-gan,” Kol ha-shirim, 91-92.
17
See ‘vanilla’ initially discussed in the Introduction, pages 4-5. See also Chapter Four, Section 4.6 (i)
Vanilla Unveiled: The ‘White Ink’ of Écriture Féminine.
18
Ravikovitch, “Shiveron lev ba-gan,” Kol ha-shirim, 91-92.
46
Ravikovitch’s persona is not only a lamenting poet chanting lyric lament over lack and
loss where the power of human speech falters. She also laments love. She is a lovelorn
poet.
I will digress from the direct concentration on the lovelorn persona to follow a tangent
that arises through Ravikovitch’s careful choice of lexicon. The Hebrew wording for
“Words were banished from my mouth” is rather distinctive. It makes use of a root-word
used in only a handful of contexts in scriptures: ‘.t.q. The root-word carries a semantic
range that encompasses: ‘moving’ or ‘disconnecting’ in the sense of ‘removing’ oneself
and relocating’.19 The semantic range also encompasses ‘removed from’ or ‘taken away
from’ as in Isaiah which bears an expression about individuals weaned of milk and
taken away from the breast:
20
:‫יקי ִמ ָשּׁ ָדיִ ם‬
ֵ ‫מוּלי ֵמ ָח ָלב ַע ִתּ‬
ֵ ‫מוּעה ְגּ‬
ָ ‫ָבין ְשׁ‬
ִ ‫יוֹרה ֵד ָעה וְ ֶאת ִמי י‬
ֶ ‫ֶאת ִמי‬
To whom would God give instruction?
And to whom would God give understanding of a message?
To those newly weaned of mother’s milk?!
To those removed from the breast?!21
The same root – ‘.t.q. – yields connotations of exaltations of haughty pride or insolent
speech.22
19
See Genesis 12:8 and 26:22 as examples.
20
Isaiah 28:9.
21
Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Isaiah 28:9.
22
Psalms 94:3-4 is an example:
:‫ַעד ָמ ַתי ְר ָשׁ ִעים ה' ַעד ָמ ַתי ְר ָשׁ ִעים ַי ֲעלֹזוּ‬
:‫ֲלי אָוֶן‬
ֵ ‫אַמּרוּ ָכּל פֹּע‬
ְ ‫ַבּיעוּ יְ ַד ְבּרוּ ָע ָתק יִ ְת‬
ִ‫י‬
How long shall the wicked, O God,
how long shall the wicked exult,
shall they utter insolent speech,
shall all evildoers vaunt themselves?
Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Psalms 94:4.
47
We should consider the interplay of all of the above with the poem. The persona
perceives love in the air through sights and scent, yet feels remote and removed from
love. As a result speech eludes her. Words are disconnected or banished from her
mouth. The poet is left bereft not only of love, but of her stock in trade: words, poetry.
She is distant from the life-conferring ‘white milk’ of écriture féminine.23 She is distant
from the mother who “fills your breast with an urge to come to language.”24 Eros, too,
eludes her. Not even hubris flows from the poet’s lips.
We can read the source in Isaiah on an additional level with the assistance of
commentary. Rashi25 imports an idea regarding the nature of those who are ‘weaned of
mother’s milk’ and ‘disconnected from’26 the breast. He identifies them as people who
feel they are ‘too big for’ the Torah and have ‘outgrown’ learning its precepts. This is a
hint of Ravikovitch’s perception of herself as one who has removed herself from
concerns of Torah-learning and Torah-guided living. We shall see stronger expressions
of this contention in Chapter Five in a poem that alludes to outright apostasy.
To return to the central concentration of this chapter, the emphasis has been on the
persona’s particular construction of self as holat ahava: she is lovelorn in several
aspects. In short she almost never manages to experience love in emotionally satisfying
proportions. On the rare occasion that she does, she laments the fleeting nature of love
and the fact that it does not remain accessible in quality or in quantity for long. In
Chapter Four it will be seen that love, for this individual, is an affliction worthy of lament.
The remainder of this chapter surveys general trends in the speaker’s construction of
self and related theories of self-writing. Excerpts cited as illustration are chosen for their
23
24
Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 280.
Loc. cit.
25
Rashi - Rabbi Shelomo Yitzhaki, 1040 – 1105, France.
26
Alternately, the text can refer to those ‘too old for’ mother’s milk, also from the root ‘.t.q -- ‘atiq. The
Even-Shohsan Concordance takes this approach to Isaiah 28:9: “’Atiqei,” Qonqordantzya hadasha letorah nevi’im u-khetuvim, ed. Avraham Even-Shoshan (Jerusalem: Kiryat-Sefer, 1997) 934.
Henceforth: Qonqordantzya hadasha.
48
link to the persona’s concerns with love. This pursuit begins with a return to the
speaker’s reference to her deceased father.
2.4
Construction of Self in Retrospect: Persona with a Lacuna
The poem ‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela calls into existence the universe of the persona’s
six-year-old self discovering the death of her father in a car accident.27 That road and
that night expand into a nightmare world in print in which the speaker is continually
compelled to revisit her deceased father, the scene and the loss.28 It is the dark galaxy
in which she is eternally encapsulated through the inability to wrest even a single
endearment from the lips of her parent. This detail is crucial to the persona’s
construction of self. She is suffering from a lack of paternal love. This deficit leaves a
void in the core of her being. This paternal love-famine spreads like a fissure concealed
just below the surface of her skin and influences the shape of her future.
The absence of a living bond with her father beyond early childhood robbed the persona
of a vital relationship. Among the theories that sociologists have advanced is that of
differentiated gender construction. A relational model is posited for female selfhood: that
is, sociological gender identity studies show that females tend to identify themselves in
relationship to others, while males tend to identify themselves as separate from others,
meaning in contradistinction to others.29 The voice of the persona in ‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish
ba-lyela lets readers know that the absence of a relationship with her father is affecting
her development. There is a gaping hole that will affect her forever. Even worse, she will
be painfully reminded of that lacuna at regular intervals ad infinitum:
‫עוֹמד ְל ַבדּוֹ ִבּ ְמקוֹמוֹ‬
ֵ ‫ָליל הוּא‬
ֵ ‫וּב ָכל ַליְ ָלה ו‬
ְ
.‫ירד ִל ְמקוֹמוֹ וְ ָלבוֹא‬
ֵ ‫ֶבת ֵל‬
ֶ ‫ַאנִ י ַחיּ‬
ֲ‫ו‬
27
Ravikovitch, “[‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela,]” Kol ha-shirim, 24.
28
This phenomenon is reminiscent of what Freud observed as ‘repetition compulsion’ in his works on
psychoanalysis. See: Sigmund Freud, “Beyond the Pleasure Principle,” The Pleasure Principle and
Other Writings, trans. John Reddick (London: Penguin, 2003) 31-102.
29
Nancy Chodorow, The Reproduction of Mothering: Psychoanalysis and the Sociology of Gender
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979) 169. Henceforth: Chodorow, Reproduction of
Mothering.
49
.‫ֶבת ֲאנִ י‬
ֶ ‫יתי ִל ְשׁאֹל ֶאת ָה ִאישׁ ַעד ָמ ַתי ַחי‬
ִ ‫וְ ָר ִצ‬
30
.‫ֶבת ֲאנִ י‬
ֶ ‫ָד ְע ִתי זֹאת ֵמרֹאשׁ ֶשׁ ָתּ ִמיד ַחיּ‬
ַ ‫וְ י‬
Night after night he stands alone in his place
And I must go down and stand in that place.
And I wanted to ask him: Till when must I go.
And I know as I asked: I must always go.31
The macabre nature and inevitable regularity of such a phenomenon is noted as not
uncommon by Alfred Alvarez in his study of suicide. There he describes the stark
homage that a poet, like Ravikovitch, used to pay, at predictable intervals, to her
father’s premature death and the agony it caused her. Of Sylvia Plath, Alvarez writes:
God knows what wound the death of her father had inflicted
on her in her childhood, but over the years this had been transformed into the conviction that to be an adult meant to be a
survivor. So, for her, death was a debt to be met once every decade;
in order to stay alive as a grown woman, a mother and a poet, she
had to pay – in some partial, magical way – with her life. But
because this impossible payment involved also the fantasy of joining or regaining her beloved dead father, it was a passionate
act, instinct as much with love as with hatred and despair.32
Sadly, the persona of ‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela is conscious that she cannot get over
the situation. She knows she is destined to keep treading the same path forever without
gaining control over the situation and without regaining her father or his love.
The speaker’s clever mixture of verb tenses throughout the poem – historical present,
contemporary present, past and future, as well as time markers – “at night”, “night after
night”, “how long” and “always”, contribute to her construction of self and the universe
that provides its context. The verb tenses function in retrospect, in the contemporary
present of the poem, and in prospect. All three are accounted for with eerie clarity.
30
Ravikovitch, “[‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela,]” Kol ha-shirim, 24.
31
Ravikovitch, “On the road at night there stands the man,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 55-56.
32
Alfred Alvarez, The Savage God: A Study of Suicide (London, Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1971) 25.
50
The pair of “once upon a time” phrases that bracket the full text of the poem suggest
retrospect. They lull the reader into a false sense of fairy tale. They transmit a cue to
anticipate a transition, from restful sleep to pleasant dream or to refreshed awakening.
The transition never arrives. The confession “And I know, even as I ask” invokes the
speaker in the present moment of the poem. The phrase “Night after night” builds a
picture of the speaker’s contemporary reality that stretches in both directions: past and
future. “I will always have to” is a statement of self-prospect. That grim prospect of
forever feeling a void where her father’s presence should be becomes ensconced in her
being.
The fissures concealed below the surface of the persona’s skin cannot stay static for
long before the jostling of everyday living jars them, sending their fault lines splintering
in many directions. The persona is in such a delicate state that the phenomenon causes
her to shatter entirely in the sonnet Buba memukkenet [Clockwork Doll].33 The speaker
in the poem reports that “they” – an impersonal group of practitioners – tried to put her
back together again.34 She conveys their lack of care or success and reports changes in
her being:
‫ֻבּה ִמסּוּג ֵשׁנִ י‬
ָ ‫יתי בּ‬
ִ ִ‫אוּלם אָז ְכּ ָבר ָהי‬
ָ
.‫נוֹקנֶת‬
ֶ ‫בוּלה ֶשׁ ִהיא עוֹד ֲאחוּזָה ִבּ ְק‬
ָ ‫מוֹרה ֲח‬
ָ ‫ְכּמוֹ ְז‬
35
So then I became an inferior sort of doll
like a snapped twig yet suspended by a tendril.
Her reconstituted self, her post breakdown self, is not as sound as her prior self, and too
little love is again apparent. Even when she goes to dance at the ball, well groomed and
dressed in full regalia, her presence is not valued. “They” abandon her with the dogs
and the cats, much like children abandon no longer loved toys in some dusty corner of
33
Ravikovitch, “Buba memukkenet,” Kol ha-shirim, 36.
34
Bloch and Kronfeld comment on Buba memukkenet as illustrative of Ravikovitch’s “feminism avant la
lettre” and on the way the poem “literalizes the stereotype of ‘doll,’ which in both Hebrew and English
slang of the 1950s refers to a pretty young woman, but grants her the sorry fate of Humpty Dumpty”
who needs mending by ‘all the king’s horses and all the king’s men’: Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and
Kronfeld, Hovering, 26.
35
Ravikovitch, “Buba memukkenet,” Kol ha-shirim, 36.
51
the garage or attic. The reader can almost hear the plaintive tone of the litany of this
forever-six-year-old: “they” abandon her despite her clockwork-perfect dance steps,
despite her lovely blonde doll hair, despite her beautiful blue doll eyes, despite her
gorgeous dress with its flowers and fashionable cherry-trimmed hat. As well turned out
as she is, she is not the same. Now “decorous and obedient”36 she is not even the same
as her previously flawed, yet autonomous self, and her company is not sought. She
certainly feels nowhere near the realized self of which Olney speaks in Metaphors of
Self:
The archetype of wholeness […] remains always the same
as an instinctual creative base and background of human
life as we know it. […] It would seem that, in realizing the self - which is
the moral demand that the given life makes of us – one is perfecting
humanity and completing creation in the
only way that one can do it: in one’s own self.37
In considering the construction of self Olney articulates that the autobiographer, the
poet, the painter and the philosopher, among others, organize their worlds through their
work in such a way as to find the serenity and sanctuary that might otherwise be lacking
in life:
Each makes this cosmos and its
construction the pivot of his emotional life, in order to find in
this way the peace and security which he cannot find in the
narrow whirlpool of personal experience.38
This is not consistently so in the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch. In her poems the persona
frequently evokes the chaos that runs rampant in her cosmos. A stark example of this
awareness may be perceived in Ha-beged.39
36
Arieh Sachs, “Clockwork Doll,” The Modern Hebrew Poem Itself: a new and updated edition, eds. Ariel
Hirschfeld and Ezra Spicehandler (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2003), 193.
37
Olney, Metaphors of Self, 327-328.
38
Olney, Metaphors of Self, 8.
39
Ravikovitch, “Ha-beged,” Kol ha-shirim, 122-123.
52
In this poem, the speaker is engaged in a bizarre conversation with a second party who
admonishes her not to wear a particular article of clothing. The warning voice cautions
that the garment is akin to the poison dress issued by Medea40 of Greek mythological
notoriety as recounted in the writing of Euripides.41 The speaker indicates that she is
aware of the danger but does not know how to be careful. In a final exchange the
warning voice persists, saying directly that the dress is on fire. The speaker’s reply is
stunningly blunt:
42
?‫אוֹמ ֶרת‬
ֶ ‫אַתּ‬
ְ ‫ ָמה‬,‫ ָצ ַע ְק ִתּי‬,‫אוֹמ ֶרת‬
ֶ ‫אַתּ‬
ְ ‫ָמה‬
.‫בּוֹע ֶרת‬
ֶ ‫ ֲה ֵרי זֹאת ֲאנִ י ַה‬,‫ֵאין ָע ַלי ֶבּגֶד ִבּ ְכ ָלל‬
What are you saying, I shouted,
what are you saying?
I’m not wearing a dress at all,
what’s burning is I.43
There is no dress: the persona’s soul is enwrapped in her burning body. She knows that
her emotional chaos has seeped through the pores of her skin, permeated every
underlying crevasse and affected her very nucleus. That knowledge frequently
expresses itself through images of ember and coal, spark and flame in her poetry.
Chapter Five shows an analysis of a poem in which the persona divulges her errant soul
and these moderate units of fire reach proportions of raging conflagration.
40
Princess-sorceress Medea of the Greek Tragedy Medea, as told by Euripides, married Jason after
falling in love with him and helping him and the Argonauts obtain the coveted golden fleece.
Subsequently Jason found himself a new princess, Glauce - a younger model, as it were. Medea’s gift
of revenge to this woman was a poison dress. When donned the dress produced flames that burned
Glauce to death as well as a would-be rescuer, her father King Kreon.
41
Euripides’ Medea in Denys L. Page, ed. “The Poisoned robe,” Euripides – Medea (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1967) xxvi.
42
Ravikovitch, “Ha-beged,” Kol ha-shirim, 122-123.
43
Translation based on: Ravikovitch, “A Dress of Fire,” transl. Chana Bloch, A Dress of Fire, (Berkeley:
The Menard Press, 1976) 5-8. Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch, maintain that title in a subsequent
anthology of translations in: Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Bloch, The Window: 57-58. Chana Bloch
and Chana Kronfeld come closer to a literal rendering of ‘The Garment’ with a revised title, “The
Dress” in: Ravikovitch, “The Dress,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 115-116.
53
One of the hallmarks frequently associated with women’s life-writing is made manifest in
the dialogue format of Ha-beged. It has been suggested that the presence of dialogue in
women’s self-writing indicates goals that are “related to the aims of ordinary
conversation.”44 On one level we may understand the conversation in this poem as
taking place between the speaker and another person. On another level, we may
understand it as a conversation between the speaker and her conscience. The latter
framework involves the technique of alterity as the speaker casts her conscience at a
remove from herself.
This conversation, give or take the reference to Greek mythology, is precisely the kind
of tête-à-tête two close friends might have about personal circumstances such as love
life and love strife. The dialogue contains recourse to shared understandings, the very
acknowledgement or deflection of which contributes to the shape of the self being
constructed. More often than not the conversation exhibits stream of consciousness
digressions well tolerated between friends or typical of a conversation with oneself.
Marjanne E. Goozé comments on this conversational phenomenon in her survey of the
literature about women’s self-writing:
Viewed as constructions of the self through conversation,
women’s narratives become inseparable from their relationships
to others. This constituent factor of women’s selves existing
in interrelationship with others becomes more fully integrated
into definitions of women’s selves and consciousness […]45
Marjanne Goozé’s comments could as easily apply to a conversation with one’s own
conscience as to one with an interlocutor. In the case of Ha-beged, in addition to the
relationship with a second party or conscience, the reader can posit a relationship of the
speaker with someone outside of the poem’s immediate dialogue. There is a sense that
44
Eloise Bell, “Telling One’s Story: Women’s Journals Then and Now,” eds. Lenore Hoffman and Margo
Culley, Personal Narratives: Essays in Criticism and Pedagogy. (New York: Modern Language
Association, 1985) 167-176. Henceforth: Eloise Bell, “Telling One’s Story.”
45
Marjanne E. Goozé, “The Definitions of Self and Forms in Feminist Autobiography Theory,” Women’s
Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal, 21:4 (1992): 416.
54
a love relationship is wielding signs of impending danger. Despite its warning signals
the speaker inevitably finds herself in the wardrobe of Glauce. The pattern is in place.
The works are in motion. She is on fire even before reaching for the metaphorical
Medea’s dress.
To focus further on a relational mode of selfhood, an additional reason surfaces to mark
the speaker’s situation as fatal even before she clothes herself in the burning dress. The
reason has to do with the father-daughter relationship. It is a reason we may infer
through consideration of the literary connections raised between Ha-beged and the
writing of Euripides, as I shall now briefly outline.
In returning to the links between the poem and Greek mythology the reader
understands that Euripides’s Medea cannot retreat to the comfort of her father’s home,
as she had gone off with Jason without securing her father’s blessing. Her marriage to
Jason has come to an end. Jason has since married Glauce. Medea is stranded without
recourse to paternal love. The same is true of Glauce. Glauce, too, is doomed and not
susceptible to the rescue of a loving father: the flames of the poisoned bridal dress, sent
to her by Medea, are destined to thwart the rescue attempt of her father, Kreon, and kill
him in the process.
The persona is akin to Medea. The persona is akin to Glauce. She converses with
herself in both their voices. It is thus doubly clear that the persona is suffering the lack
of an essential personal relationship: a loving father-daughter relationship. This
formative fact of life has tremendous bearing on her development as well as on her
choice of interpersonal involvements and love relationships. This persona of the oeuvre
knows she is metonymically fated to smolder: she has no father, ergo no relational
resource for rescue from any kind of flames, especially not flames of love.
Michal Ben-Naftali enriches the analysis of this poem with the contention that beyond
the relationship-issues with her father, the persona has a flawed relationship with her
mother. Michal Ben-Naftali makes a strong case to show that the interlocutor in the
55
poem may be perceived of as the persona’s mother.46 Considering that the poetpersona’s only significant attention to her mother in the oeuvre is delivered as the older
woman lies malingering, her appearance in Ha-beged would indeed constitute a rare
début in the speaker’s work.47 Ben-Naftali emphasizes the communication gap between
the two women, the emotional baggage they bring to bear in the relationship and the
cross purposes of their comments. All of these underscore the extent to which the
daughter-figure feels, and felt, unprotected by her mother in the poem’s present and in
the past.
Particularly telling is the persona’s recollection of becoming dreadfully ill following an
un-parentally impeded, unremarked sortie from her home as a six-year-old with freshlywashed, wet hair. The danger signal is symbolized in the poem by a certain choking
fragrance associated by the daughter-figure with the shampoo; the mother-figure in Habeged picks up on the odd fragrance as the poison of the garment in question. Despite
her mother’s copious, if somewhat hollow-sounding warnings, the persona continues to
feel unprotected and unnurtured: she has not learned “how to be careful.” It is apparent,
then, that the persona has not managed to derive from either parent any relational
resources to apply to survival in the face of flames of love.
Psychological studies such as The Reproduction of Mothering by Nancy Chodorow,
mentioned above, take into account the ramifications of mothers’ parenting for their
children’s personality formation and elements of gender identification. These in turn
bear influence on the development of relationships of affection and love. Clearly a
fathers’ parenting, or its lack or loss, also has ramifications for children’s personality
development and ability to function in relationships of affection and love as life
progresses.
46
Ben-Naftali, “Keri‘a,” 65-83.
47
The persona’s mother figure is rarely present in the oeuvre, but is the subject of a poem in which she
is portrayed as awaiting the end of her life: Dahlia Ravikovitch, “Ba-shana ha-ba’a, ba-yamim haba’im,’ Hatzi sha‘a lifnei ha-monsoon, Woodcuts, Pamela Levy (Raanana: Even Hoshen, 1998) 37-39.
Henceforth: Monsoon.
56
In the excerpts of poems mentioned so far the speaker is working on identifying and
constructing her self through her writing, for the most part with reference to retrospect.
The excerpts to be surveyed next are drawn from poems which may be construed as
verbal correlatives of visual self-portraits in which artists present brushstrokes of their
current selves: they convey visual icons of selected attitudes and postures of self in the
moment.
2.5
Performance of Self in the Moment: Persona as Poet
In the following verbal icons, the persona reveals her contemporary identity as a poet.
Like all individuals she is multidimensional and multifaceted. There are occasions when
she projects a well-defined sense of self along with indications that she enjoys exerting
her strengths. There are also occasions when she comes across as uncomfortable with
her being: at such moments she prefers to distance herself from her ‘self’ and its
malaise by indulging herself in, and compensating herself for, emotional ailments. An
excerpt of the poem Zikkaron tamim [A Pure Memory; A Perfect Memory] will be
examined to illustrate her tendency toward competence and strength.48 An excerpt of
the poem Portret [Portrait] will be examined to illustrate her response to personal
malaise.49 In each of these poems the poet-persona performs bios as event, through
consciousness itself.50
In Zikkaron tamim readers get a glimpse of the persona yearning for perfect recollection
of a pure memory: the kind of consciousness that serves as both inspiration for writing
and the substance of that writing, both as catalyst for process and sum total of net
product.
48
Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim, 161.
Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch translate the title as “Pure Memory” in The Window, 52.
49
Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137. Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch call this poem “Vanilla” in
The Window, 48-49. Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld choose “Portrait” in Hovering, 124-125.
50
Olney, Memory/Bios, 242.
57
‫ָמים‬
ִ ‫ַכּ ָמּה י‬
‫וּר ָע ִמים‬
ְ ‫ סוּפוֹת‬,‫ַכּ ָמּה ָשׁנִ ים‬
‫ִח ִכּינוּ ָלזֶה ֶשׁיִּ ְפרֹץ‬
,‫ֵמע ֶֹמק ָה ֲא ָד ָמה‬
‫ִז ָכּרוֹן ֶא ָחד ָתּ ִמים‬
‫שׁוֹשׁן‬
ָ ‫ְכּ ֶפ ַרח‬
51
.‫אָדֹם ָבּ ִהיר‬
How many days,
How many years, storms and thunderbolts
have we waited for
a single pure memory
to burst forth
from the depths of the earth,
like a lily
bright red.
That rare heightened perception of the natural world, so important to her writing
process, is as concentrated and breathtaking as the visual image of the bright red flower
that she evokes in her rhetorical summons to “conscious consciousness”.52
Thematically similar is the aching need in the poem Portret. The self pictured is in a
profound state of craving. Just as the poet self of Zikkaron tamim yearns for pure
memory in the most conscious of ways, so the needy emotional self of Portret hungers
desperately for concentrated flavour:
,‫ ַה ְר ֵבּה וָנִ יל‬,‫רוֹצה וָנִ יל‬
ָ ‫ִהיא‬
53
.‫ֵתּן ָלהּ וָנִ יל‬
She wants vanilla, lots of vanilla,
Give her vanilla.
The substances of the persona’s cravings and yearnings are directly bound up in her
need for language, creative vitality and eros to fuel her writing process. This
51
Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim, 161.
52
Olney, Memory/Bios, 252, note 3. There, James Olney borrows the term “la conscience consciente”
from a letter written by the poet Paul Valéry about his own poem, ”La Jeune Parque”.
53
Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.
58
phenomenon will be analyzed further in Chapter Four in which the corresponding verbal
self-portrait is examined in greater detail.
In repeatedly calling out for vanilla this persona is performing the needy aspect of her
self. She has a need to fill her ever-present internal void. In fact all of this self’s complex
emotional needs find expression as physical needs and idiosyncrasies, contrasts and
cravings. She’s colder than most people in the winter and does not fare well in the
summer heat either. She barricades herself in the house for days at a stretch doing
nothing but peruse the news. She consistently wraps herself up to the point of nearsuffocation. She simply cannot find a way to comfort herself or make herself
comfortable. The only solution she sees for immediate self-placation is vanilla in great
quantity. Unfortunately this symbolic substance would serve as a temporary measure
only. Even oceans of vanilla could not fill the vacuum that affects this self: the lacuna of
paternal love.
What does offer the speaker respite from her emotional chafing is poetry itself, her own
and that of others. When she settles herself sufficiently so that she commences the
process of composing her own poetry, her feeling of transcendence is practically
palpable. In this regard, ’Atta bevadai zokher [Surely You Remember] may be viewed as
a companion piece to Zikkaron tamim in terms of summoning conscious consciousness
to express bios:
‫הוֹל ִכים‬
ְ ‫ֻלּם‬
ָ ‫אַח ֵרי ֶשׁכּ‬
ֲ
,‫ירים‬
ִ ‫ֲאנִ י נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת ְל ַבד ִעם ַה ִשּׁ‬
‫ירים ֶשׁ ִלּי‬
ִ ‫ֶח ְל ָקם ִשׁ‬
.‫וְ ֶח ְל ָקם ֶשׁל ֲא ֵח ִרים‬
.‫יוֹתר‬
ֵ ‫אוֹה ֶבת‬
ֶ ‫ירים ֶשׁ ָכּ ְתבוּ ֲא ֵח ִרים ֲאנִ י‬
ִ ‫ִשׁ‬
‫ֲאנִ י נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת ְבּ ֶשׁ ֶקט‬
.‫וּמ ֲחנַק ַהגָּרוֹן ִמ ְשׁ ַתּ ְח ֵרר‬
ַ
.‫ֲאנִ י נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת‬
[...]
.‫ָעים‬
ִ ‫אוּלי ָדּ ָבר נ‬
ַ ‫ירים זֶה‬
ִ ‫ִל ְכתֹּב ִשׁ‬
[...]
59
.‫יוֹתר‬
ֵ ‫אוּלי ַתּ ְחשֹׁב ַעל ְשׁנֵי ְד ָב ִרים אוֹ‬
ַ
.‫ָבישׁ ָטהוֹר‬
ִ ‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ַהכֹּל ַי ֲעבֹר וְ ִת ְהיֶה ג‬
ַ
54
After everyone leaves,
I remain alone with the poems,
Some mine,
some others’.
I prefer theirs.
I remain quietly,
my throat-choking eases.
I remain.
[…]
Writing poetry is rather nice.
[…]
Perhaps you’ll conjure up a thing or two.
Then all passes and you become pure crystal.
The poem ’Atta bevadai zokher surpasses Zikkaron tamim by a hair’s breadth in terms
of communicating ‘conscious consciousness’. It constitutes an expression of bios as
autobiographical writing. It generates its own transcendent reality without reference to
the historical past or chronological future of the self. It resembles the raw state of
singular awareness in self-writing that Olney describes as follows: “In the pure act of
consciousness […] there is no before and after […] there is only consciousness itself,
bright, shining, ticking, sufficient unto itself, conscious of nothing in particular and with
no necessary content – conscious, perhaps, only of being conscious.”55
The self conveyed in ’Atta bevadai zokher is at its optimum at the point when and where
she is emotionally comfortable enough, and vividly inspired enough, to write poetry. It is
at this very point that she connects with pure consciousness. Then and there she
‘becomes’ gavish tahor – pure crystal. She becomes the medium through which pure
memory or pure consciousness can pass, or be refracted, en route to becoming poems
on paper. This poem is the paradigmatic literary praxis of a poet accomplished in selfwriting. Olney identifies details of such praxis as follows: “The practice of autobiography
54
Ravikovitch, “’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116. Bloch and Bloch translate this poem with
the title “Surely You Remember” in The Window, 41-42.
55
Olney, Memory/Bios, 242.
60
is almost as various as its practitioners, and this truth is yet truer – it becomes nearly
absolute - when the primary commitment of the practitioners in question is literary […]”56
The excerpts regarded in this second grouping of poems reveal that the self-writing
style of the persona is at its most unique when she considers the essence of her self as
poet-practitioner, which is also her most emotionally at-ease self. She exerts the ‘literary
commitment’ to write her self through poems in which form and function overlap: she
writes through the inspiration of sheer consciousness and produces sheer
consciousness. In this way Zikkaron tamim, Portret and ’Atta bevadai zokher exhibit ‘an
ontology’57 all their own.
An emphasis on poems as verbal self-portraits raises issues of referentiality with which
the poet must deal, particularly when the speaker of the poems is also their subject. In
such a case there are inevitable shifts that take place between beholder and beheld.
Poetry actually has an advantage over prose in this regard. Referential shifts in
continuous autobiographical narrative can serve to destabilize or cloud the text and the
identification of the self being presented.58 By contrast readers have the option to regard
individual poems as snapshots that make up a collage of the speaker’s multidimensional self. Even so, the persona must contend with ways of approaching the
writing of self, particularly in light of the coincidence of the subject, object and speaker.
56
Olney, Memory/Bios, 236.
57
I borrow this term from the full title of Olney’s article: James Olney, “Some Versions of Memory / Some
Versions of Bios: The Ontology of Autobiography,” Autobiography: Essays Theoretical and Critical, ed.
James Olney (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), 236-267.
58
Referential shifts and additional techniques are deliberately used in some fictional autobiographical
narratives to prove the point of destabilization. In The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields (Auckland, New
York, Toronto and Victoria: Penguin Books, 1993) for example, Daisy Goodwill Flett shifts between
first and third person narrative of her own life story. The fragmentation and decentering are
compounded by chapters in which characters other than Daisy write about this already fictional
persona who is nonetheless represented in reproduced black and white photographs that don’t quite
accord with the text.
In Blackout, Alan Brown’s English translation of Hubert Aquin’s Trou de Mémoire, (Toronto: Anansi,
1974) for example, Hubert Aquin inserts his own comments into the footnotes of his first-person ‘whodone-it’, as those of an omniscient scientific writer. This is another innovative technique that
deliberately obscures and destabilizes the narrative.
61
This conundrum is addressed vigorously by Roland Barthes in deconstructing
autobiography:
Do I not know that, in the field of the subject, there is no
referent? The fact (whether biographical or textual) is abolished in
the signifier, because it immediately coincides with it […] I myself am
my own symbol, I am the story which happens to me […]
the pronoun of the imaginary, “I,” is im-pertinent;59
Philippe Lejeune, however, treats the coincidence in referentiality differently. He allows
for some distance between beholder and beheld in the construction of self, even when
they are one and the same. He comments:
One could not write an autobiography without elaborating and
communicating a point of view on the self. This point of view may include
some gaps between the perspective of the narrator and that of the
protagonist. 60
This position is in concert with that of Timothy Dow Adams who treats a similar
relationship in considering photography in autobiography61, and allows for the “fictive
impulse”62 to fill the beholder-beheld gap. It follows that the same ‘fictive impulse’ and
inevitable gaps would apply in the relationship between the persona formulating the
poetry and the persona visible in any given verbal self-portrait.
A reproduction of Norman Rockwell’s 1960 Triple Self-Portrait on the cover of Lejeune’s
book, On Autobiography, shows the painter peering into a mirror while he paints himself
on an adjacent canvas. The portrait reinforces Lejeune’s certainty that autobiographical
writing “will carry in the final analysis the mark of the author.”63
59
Roland Barthes, Roland Barthes, transl. Richard Howard, (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of
California Press, 1977) 56. Originally published in French: Roland Barthes par Roland Barthes
(Éditions du Seuil, 1975).
60
Philippe Lejeune, On Autobiography, transl. Katherine Leary (Minnesota: University of Minnesota
Press, 1989) 45. Henceforth: Lejeune, On Autobiography.
61
Adams, Light Writing and Life Writing, xiv-xv.
62
Adams, Light Writing and Life Writing, x.
63
Lejeune, On Autobiography, 45.
62
Correspondingly the mark of the poet-persona is evident in both groupings of Dahlia
Ravikovitch’s poems treated to this point, at the very least in the triad of pronouns
frequently employed in self-writing in referring to the self performed: “I”64, “you”65 and
“she”66. The reader will also note some “she”-”I” fluctuation, possibly as a function of
focalization, possibly as a function of the presentation of a multi-dimensional self and a
technique to distance an aspect of self. To these Ravikovitch’s speaker adds the
occasional “we”. This is the case in “True Love Is Not All That It Seems” mentioned in
identifying the persona as lovelorn.67 In this poem the poet includes herself in the
pronoun “we” to ask and answer as follows:
Do we love our friends?
We don’t really love our friends.
And do we love our children?
Sometimes we love our children,
but mostly just a bit.68
At times pronoun “we” expresses a function of the relational mode; at others this is the
epithet the poet uses to position herself when she experiences moments of a more
integrated self.69 The use of all of these pronouns shows that Dahlia Ravikovitch’s
speaker shares, with other writers, the inevitable autobiographical issues of
referentiality: “tension between impossible unity and intolerable division.”70
To summarize to this point, in poems such as ‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela and Habeged, we find the speaker concentrating largely on retrospect in the process of
construction of self. A specific lacuna where love should reside has been noted. In
verbal self-portraits of the moment, such as Zikkaron tamim, Portret and ’Atta bevadai
64
Ravikovitch, “[‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela]”, Kol ha-shirim, 24; Buba memukkenet, 36; Ha-beged, 122123; “’Atta bevadai zokher,” 116-115.
65
Ravikovitch Ha-beged, Kol ha-shirim, 122-123; ’”’Atta bevadai zokher,” 116-115.
66
Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.
67
See Section 2.3 Lovelorn Persona.
68
Ravikovitch, “Ha-’ahava ha-’amitit ’eina kefi she-hi nir’eit,” Kol ha-shirim, 242-243.
69
Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim, 161.
70
Lejeune, On Autobiography, 36.
63
zokher, readers perceive the persona performing verbal icons of her conscious
essence. When resources to fuel her writing process are in short supply, the persona
suffers existential malaise. She expresses its effects as physical symptoms, in
conflicting and constricting sensations, and as desperation in the form of pronounced
cravings. She is at her best in terms of her emotional self when that which she does,
namely the writing of poetry, and that which she produces, namely the poems, coincide.
2.6
Construction of Self in Prospect: Deconstruction of Self and
Self-destruction
As mentioned, Ravikovitch’s persona produces yet another kind of self-writing in poetry.
This poetry is noteworthy in two ways. One is its projection of prospect. In these poems
the persona ‘tries on’ future resolutions to issues in her life. A second is that these
poems convey deconstructions of self that call for scenarios of self-destruction. In the
context of the projection of a future of self, James Olney describes memory as:
‘an adaptive function with a self-adjusting, and
self-defining’ plasticity about it, turning back to the past so as
to position itself and us for what is to be dealt with in the future; it
adapts continuously to changing circumstances, external and internal, to
constitute the self as it is at any given instant. [… ] Memory reaches
toward the future as toward the past, and balance demands a poised
receptiveness in both directions.71
In the poems to be discussed the reader can discern attempts of memory as an
‘adaptive function’ to generate a future self in response to the self as it has been
constructed. As noted the persona of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s autobiographical poems
exhibits a tragic flaw in the construction of her young self; accordingly, balance may
very well elude the extension of this self’s memory in reaching toward her future.
To illustrate this chapter returns to a look at Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur, a poem
initially introduced in sketching the persona’s lovesickness. In picturing herself as a
sunflower inclining toward the sun, it has been noted that the speaker demonstrates her
awareness of the way in which she has played into the dynamics of an all-
71
James Olney, Memory and Narrative (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1998) 343.
64
encompassing love relationship. She feels it has engulfed her being and is leading her
astray. In opening the poem with a counteractive declaration the speaker demonstrates
her ability to look to the future. She vows:
‫אוֹה ֶבת אוֹתוֹ ַע ְכ ָשׁו‬
ֶ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
.‫ָּכל כּ ִֹחי‬
72
.‫ָמים ֲא ָח ִדים וְ ֶא ְח ַדּל‬
ִ ‫עוֹד י‬
I love him now
with all my might.
A few more days and I’ll cease.
Anyone, however, who has sworn this deceptively simple oath, or anything like it, surely
knows its complexities. The speaker couples her future-oriented resolution with a
‘prehearsal’ of what she would like to say to this other being – adoni, akin to the French
title ‘monsieur’, and very close to the Hebrew word for God – in statements of
remonstration that occur to her whenever sorrow gets the best of her:
,‫עוֹלם‬
ָ ‫אַתּה ְבּ ָכל ָה‬
ָ ,‫ֲאדוֹנִ י‬
.‫ וְ ַרק לֹא פֹּה‬,‫עוֹלם‬
ָ ‫ְבּ ָכל ָה‬
,‫ ֲאדוֹנִ י‬,‫וּמ ְלּ ַבד זֶה‬
ִ
73
.‫ַחיַּי נְ תוּנִ ים ְבּ ַכ ְפּ ָך‬
Sir, you are all over the world,
everywhere but here.
And besides that, sir,
my life is in your hands.
Together with the rest of the poem these statements contribute to the poet’s attempt to
generate a future self in response to the self as it is currently constructed. Fortified with
awareness of her own role in this situation of too much love, the speaker knows how to
remake herself and how to seal the poem. She does so in a way reminiscent of the
spouse of biblical Lot upon fleeing the destruction of Sodom. As readers we know that
she is destined for disaster even as she strides toward her future. The glance she casts
72
73
Ravikovitch, “Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur,” Kol ha-shirim, 178.
Loc. cit.
65
over her shoulder undermines her momentum toward a safe future. Ravikovitch writes
in a resolute future-facing timbre belied by encoded content:
‫ֲא ָבל ֵא ֶלּה ְד ָב ִרים ֶשׁיֵּשׁ ָל ֶהם ִשׁעוּר‬
.‫וְ ֵא ֶלּה ְד ָב ִרים ֶשׁיֵּשׁ ָבּ ֶהם ָטעוּת‬
‫ֵא ֶלּה ְד ָב ִרים‬
74
.‫ֶשׁ ָהיוּ ֵמעוֹ ָלם‬
But these are matters that have limits
and these are matters of error.
These are matters
that are bygones.
The closing of the poem paints an impressionist portrait of the persona moving toward a
new self and a new state of being while attempting to take leave of her past.
Unfortunately, the dual-directional receptiveness identified by Olney has its limits.
Although the persona resolves to look forward to a new state of being, the future
encoded in the poem does not necessarily promise survival. The poet plans to ‘try on’ a
solution of prospect in order to counteract having loved too much, but it is a prospect
that she associates with conduct of “error”. Biblical Hebrew and Aramaic equivalents of
“error” supply the resonance of straying and idolatry.75 The future consequences that the
speaker faces are bleak. Chapter Five pays further attention to the persona’s proclivity
to ‘love too much’ in the context of an erring soul and attends to a related portrait of the
poet’s future.
In a poem called Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora76 the speaker devises a
future to address her mounting lovelorn condition. While rifling through the clothing that
74
Loc. cit.
75
The Hebrew word ta‘ut (from the root ‫ טעי‬,‫ )טעה‬denotes error. Biblically speaking words derived from
the homophone root t ‘ h, t’y (‫ תעי‬,‫ )תעה‬refer to wandering astray and may connote straying to follow
the errant ways of idolatry. Genesis 21:14 pictures Hagar walking along and wandering in the
wilderness after being banished from the home of Abraham and Sarah. Rashi, loc. cit., connects the
verb va-teta‘ to a lapse in practice on the part of Hagar. The suggestion is that she returned to the
idolatry learned in her youth in the home of her father.
76
Ravikovitch, “Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora,” [“Searching For But Not Finding My Black
Blouse,”] Monsoon, 42-45.
66
has accumulated on her chair and looking for the blouse she once wore while winning
over the heart of a past beloved, the speaker articulates a strategy to get over the
flames of love and memory she has managed to fan:
‫אַה ָבה ֲאנִ י ְמ ַב ֶקּ ֶשׁת‬
ֲ ‫לֹא‬
‫ַרק ַמיִ ם ַר ִבּים‬
‫ֹאשׁי‬
ִ ‫ֵמ ַעל ְלר‬
.‫אַה ָבה‬
ֲ ‫ֶשׁיְּ ַכבּוּ ֶאת ָה‬
‫ימי ַהיָּם ַה ִתּיכוֹן‬
ֵ ‫ָכּל ֵמ‬
‫וְ ַה ָיּם ָהאָדֹם וְ ַהיָּם ַה ָשּׁחוֹר‬
77
.‫ֵהם ַמיִ ם ֶשׁל ַשׁ ְלוָה‬
It’s not love that I seek
just mighty waters
above my head
that will extinguish the love.
All the waters of the Mediterranean Sea,
And the Red Sea and the Black Sea
they are waters of tranquility.
The mighty waters that could not possibly have been sufficient to put out the lovefire
portrayed in Song of Songs,78 are pressed into service in this case, to do exactly that.
The speaker summons them now to assemble so that she might extinguish both her
lovesickness and her life in the serenity she anticipates in their depths. Less elegantly
put, the speaker is planning the prospect of resolution by drowning.
Whereas in Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora the flames of the speaker’s
lovesickness are still at a stage susceptible to the plan she proposes, in a poem called
Hitrosheshut79 they are too far gone. She must adjust the ratio of water to fire for her
future. In Hitrosheshut, the speaker projects an increase the mighty waters of only three
seas to endless waters in order to address the inferno of her lovesickness and
ultimately her future.
77
78
Loc. cit.
Song of Songs 8:7.
... ‫פוּה‬
ָ ‫אַה ָבה וּנְ ָהרוֹת לֹא יִ ְשׁ ְט‬
ֲ ‫יוּכלוּ ְל ַכבּוֹת ֶאת ָה‬
ְ ‫ַמיִ ם ַר ִבּים לֹא‬
Mighty waters could not extinguish love nor rivers drown it …
79
Ravikovitch, “Hitrosheshut,” [“Impoverishment,”] Kol ha-shirim, 174.
67
In the poem Hitrosheshut as well, it is apparent that the persona is painfully aware that
she is suffering from lovesickness and knows that she cannot escape the situation
unscathed. In Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur the speaker attempts to shape her future
self through a resolution to cease loving. In Hitrosheshut, though, the speaker conveys
knowledge that she is beyond declarations of this nature. She knows that her situation
is undeniably disastrous – her self is already ablaze. In the event of her imminent
emotional immolation, she resolves to extinguish the conflagration on the open sea at
the expense of her own life:
‫רוֹצה ְל ַב ֵקּשׁ‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
‫ֶשׁ ִאם אָמוּת‬
;‫רוּפה‬
ָ ‫ֶא ְהיֶה ָכּ ֳאנִ יָּה ְט‬
‫ַמיִ ם ֶשׁ ֵאין ָל ֶהם סוֹף‬
80
.‫יְ ַכבּוּ ֶאת ַה ְשּׂ ֵר ָפה‬
Let me request
that if I die
I be like a shipwreck;
endless waters
will extinguish the blaze.
Of the poems considered so far this one loses the most, in impact and symbolism, in
translation from the original. A full analysis will be carried out in Chapter Five prior to
making further observations based on the poem in the context of self-writing. The point
of this preliminary glance is that the persona in Hitrosheshut, as in Devarim she-yesh
lahem shi‘ur, resolves to shape her future through a projection of self in prospect.
In Hitrosheshut the persona’s plan is bleaker than making a naïve resolution to stop
loving. She cannot. The speaker is conscious that she is burning alive because of love.
If need be she would pledge all her assets to be rid of that love. This concept recalls
Song of Songs 8:7 which reads:
80
Loc. cit.
68
:‫אַה ָבה בּוֹז יָבוּזוּ לוֹ‬
ֲ ‫[ ִאם יִ ֵתּן ִאישׁ ֶאת ָכּל הוֹן ֵבּיתוֹ ָבּ‬...]
Were one to offer his entire fortune for love,
He would be ridiculed to shame.81
In light of the persona’s pledge, which functions as an inverted allusion to the
declaration in Song of Songs, both the title Hitrosheshut and the pride that accompanies
the speaker’s initially strange declaration begin to make sense:
82
‫רוֹשׁשׁ‬
ֵ ‫ִאם ְל ִה ְת‬
ֲ ‫רוֹצה ְבּג‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
.‫ַאוָה‬
If I must be impoverished
let it be with pride.
This inverse allusion to the rare-to-acquire, not-to-be-had-for-all-the-riches-in-the-world,
capital “L”-Love of the Song of Songs, underscores the degree to which the speaker is
suffering from giving too much love and the lengths to which she would go to divest
herself of lovesickness.
To summarize this segment of the chapter, the speaker makes use of her poems as
self-writing to project prospect in two ways. One is by ‘trying on’ future resolutions to the
lovesickness that informs her being, as in Devarim she-yesh lahem shi’ur. A second is
by deconstructing the self, through analyses that forecast self-destruction. The analyses
are consistently versions of lovesickness. For the persona this means experience of
love in the wrong proportions. The deconstructions consistently involve going up in
flames, blazing with varying degrees of intensity. The scenarios of self-destruction
anticipate dousing the flames which, in turn, calls for a drowning of the self as in
Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora, and the self as shipwreck as in
Hitrosheshut.
81
82
Based on the translation of Song of Songs, 8:6-7 in: JPS Hebrew-English Tanakh, (Philadelphia: The
Jewish Publication Society, 1999). Henceforth: JPS TaNaKh.
Loc. cit.
69
2.7
Summary: Poetry as Self-writing
As we see the persona of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poems constructs her self in three broad
groupings of verbal self-portraits. One set of self-portraits is painted with retrospective
autobiographical references. They point to a trauma experienced in childhood that has
robbed the person of a vital relationship: parent-child love. In turn this formative trauma
has contributed to a flawed constitution of self. In this regard the speaker presents as
persona with a cavernous emotional lacuna.
In her entity as poet the speaker produces self-portraits in which she performs her self
in the moment. She does so by writing her bios through ‘conscious consciousness’ as in
Zikkaron tamim, Portret and ’Atta bevadai zokher. Engagement in this particular process
of writing generates its own transcendent reality for the persona. It requires no
reference either backward or forward in time. It becomes apparent that the persona is
most at ease when she has both the circumstances and personal resources she
requires in order to write poetry in this manner.
When she cannot, for both are scarce, she finds herself in a desperate state of craving
and subject to strong contrasts that affect her physical and existential comfort. To evade
her malaise, the persona ‘tries on’ situations of prospect. In some of these scenarios the
persona resolves to break radically with her past, as in Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur.
In others she leans toward self-destruction, as in Hitrosheshut. Both responses are
related to her suffering from the affliction of love. Chapter Five will examine a selfportrait of the persona in prospect as a penitent shipwrecked lover.
2.8
Conclusion: Lovelorn Persona
This initial survey of the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch as the self-writing of her speaker,
illustrated with excerpts from the oeuvre, reveals that the persona’s Ariadne’s thread is
70
love. 83 Olney makes reference to Ariadne’s thread, in the context of autobiography, as
the defining thread of memory that “rises to consciousness after the fact to present itself
to him as recollections that he can then trace back […] to discover the shape that was
all the time gradually and unconsciously forming itself.”84
Love is the filament that informs both the persona’s construction and deconstruction of
self. In the right proportions love could lead her out of the nightmare-labyrinth in which
she lives, having to repeatedly revisit the terrifying scene of her father’s death, as in
‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela. The perpetual emotional fallout of that tragedy is the
fundamental precipitator of too little love, and a part of the persona remains the fragile
six-year-old forever, as in Buba memukkenet.
Love in the wrong proportions – too much, too little, or of the wrong kind on either the
giving or receiving end – has the potential to ignite the thread like a fuse that leads
swiftly to explosives. Owing to a formative fissure and perpetual distress, the persona is
already smoldering in Ha-beged; flames of failed relationships threaten combustion, as
in Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora; love threatens to engulf her in
insurmountable flames, as in Hitrosheshut. She craves the kind of crystal clear
consciousness and pure memory that will inform her state of being and her poetry as
surely as she craves to devour pure essence in an effort to fill an internal void, as in
Zikkaron tamim, ’Atta bevadai zokher and Portret, respectively. Aware of the bearing of
her past on her inalterably flawed self, the persona turns to the future. Through her
poetry she tries on solutions of prospect: she resolves to stop loving, as in Devarim sheyesh lahem shi‘ur; and when living and loving become intolerable, she resolves to go up
in flames and sail away in endless waters, as in Hitrosheshut.
83
In the context of Greek mythology Ariadne proffered a length of thread to Theseus in a plan to help
him find his way out of the Labyrinth. Without this thread he would have been destroyed by the
Minotaur.
84
Olney, Memory/Bios, 238-238.
71
Chapter Three
Being the Apple: Forwarded Conventions of Biblical
and Medieval Hebrew Literature in Modern Hebrew Poetry
3.1
The Love of a Golden Apple
The speaker of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poetry chooses and develops a motif with a long
and illustrious career in world literature: the apple. Dahlia Ravikovitch deepens the
apple’s calling on the strength of classical Jewish sources. The speaker paints a verbal
portrait of herself as a golden apple, notably from the outset of her oeuvre. Dahlia
Ravikovitch’s first collection, published in 1959, and its first poem are both called
’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav.1 While several decades of translation have conveyed the
book’s title as The Love of an Orange,2 the intertextual echoes of the motif
overwhelmingly suggest that it refers to a golden apple. Accordingly this study will
reframe the general ‘take’ on the tapuah zahav of Dahlia Ravikovitch.
To be fair, there is merit in the suggested translation of the title as The Love of an
Orange. It might be anchored in the Italian fairytale by Giambattista Basile called For
the Love of Three Oranges, alternately The Three Citrons, and the opera subsequently
based on it by Sergei Prokofiev.3 On the one hand, the suggested translation of the title
conveys the desire encoded in the fruit in question. On the other, such a translation
1
Dahlia Ravikovitch, “’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav,” ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav, (Tel Aviv: Mahbarot le-sifrut,
1959).
2
Translators Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch do not translate the poem itself; they translate the title of the
collection in which this Hebrew poem appears as The Love of an Orange in the table of contents of
The Window. In modern Hebrew, the acronym tapuz (tapuah + zahav) denotes an orange and has
come to be replace the older term, tapuah zahav. In a literal reading of the poem Ahavat tapuah hazahav, it makes sense that an orange, whether tree or fruit, is planted near a citron.
In biblical Hebrew, the term tapuhei zahav refers to ‘golden apples’. This study relates to the fully
articulated term – tapuah zahav – as ‘golden apple’ in its figurative literary identity. This chapter traces
the motif of tapuah zahav encoded as a golden apple, from biblical Hebrew and on through medieval
and modern Hebrew poetry.
3
This year, with the first published English translation of the poem itself, Chana Bloch and Chana
Kronfeld include an explanatory note relating that in Prokofiev’s opera “oranges are objects of desire.”
The note appears in: Ravikovitch, “The Love of an Orange,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 4950.
72
does not engage the intertextual reverberations of the term ‘golden apple’ built into the
layers of the Hebrew language which Ravikovitch, herself, uses to best advantage in
poetry. I will present those reverberations and will consequently refer to the poem as
The Love of a Golden Apple. Through this motif the persona proclaims in concentrated
language that she is, in spirit, a golden apple; that is, she aspires to embody the assets
attributed to golden apples through the ages.
In the titular poem, voiced in third person, the speaker regards la figure d’altérité – that
‘other’ who is herself, cast as a golden apple. She invents a parable of a golden apple
‘who’ is warned, by a retinue of peers, namely a citron tree and a like-minded arbour,
against the treacherous path it [tapuah zahav – the golden apple] plans to pursue. They
fear this reckless course of action will lead to perdition. Ultimately the golden apple sets
out on its quest and traverses bodily limens en route.
‫אהבת תפוח הזהב‬
‫ָהב‬
ָ ‫פּוּח ז‬
ַ ‫ַתּ‬
,‫אוֹכ ֵלהוּ‬
ְ ‫אָהב ֶאת‬
ַ
‫טֹבוּ ַמ ְראָיו‬
,‫ְל ַמ ֲא ָכ ֵלהוּ‬
‫ָשׂם ֶאל ִלבּוֹ‬
.‫רוֹאהוּ‬
ֵ ‫ִכּי הוּא ָה‬
:‫ֶא ְתרוֹג בּוֹ יִ ְר ַהב‬
,‫ָח ַכ ְמ ִתּי ִמ ֶמּנוּ‬
:‫ילן ִה ְת ַע ַצּב‬
ָ ‫ִא‬
.‫ָימֹת וְ ֵאינֶנוּ‬
,‫ֶח ַשׁב‬
ְ ‫ַפּ ַחז נ‬
?‫יבנוּ‬
ֶ ‫ִמי יְ ִש‬
:‫ֶא ְתרוֹג בּוֹ ִס ְר ֵהב‬
!‫ִהבּוֹנָה ַה ֶפּ ִתי‬
:‫ילן ִה ְת ַק ֵצּף‬
ָ ‫ִא‬
,‫ָח ְטא ִהיא‬
ֵ ‫ָס ָרה ִהיא ו‬
‫יטב‬
ֵ ‫ֲחזֹר ָבּך ֵה‬
.‫ֵאתי‬
ִ ‫ִכּי ֶכ ֶסל ָשׂנ‬
73
‫ָהב‬
ָ ‫פּוּח ז‬
ַ ‫ַתּ‬
,‫אוֹכ ֵלהוּ‬
ְ ‫אָהב ֶאת‬
ַ
‫אָהב ֶאת ַמ ֵכּהוּ‬
ַ
.‫ְבּ ָכל ֲא ָב ָריו‬
‫ָהב‬
ָ ‫פּוּח ז‬
ַ ‫ַתּ‬
,‫אוֹכ ֵלהוּ‬
ְ ‫אָהב ֶאת‬
ַ
‫ָה ַל ְך ֶאל ַמ ֵכּהוּ‬
‫ָבּרוֹת ְל ִשׁנָיו‬
‫ָהב‬
ָ ‫פּוּח ז‬
ַ ‫ַתּ‬
,‫אוֹכ ֵלהוּ‬
ְ ‫נִ ְב ַלע ְבּ‬
,‫עוֹרהוּ‬
ֵ ‫ָבּא ְבּ‬
4
.‫אַף ִבּ ְב ָשׂ ָריו‬
To translate such a densely encoded and linguistically resonant poem is problematic to
say the least. Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch deserve admiration for their initial decision to
refrain.5 Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld deserve admiration for their recent resolve to
translate the poem, and for producing a beautiful and poetic translation published this
year.6 For the conceptual purposes of this thesis, I include a working-translation, below,
that has been in progress for the past few years. In addition to the fact that any
translation constitutes interpretation, it must be pointed out that the following attempt is
intended more for the purpose of allowing readers to work with the poem’s constructs
than as a beautiful flow of language. In terms of built-in language constraints it should
be pointed out that both of the central images of the poem, tapuah zahav and okhlehu,
are masculine nouns in Hebrew. Out of respect for these figures as potentially live
lovers, I refrain from referring to each as “it”. For clarity, this study will refer to the motif
of the golden apple as a feminine figure d’altérité corresponding to the gender of the
speaker. In this way we shall recognize ‘her’ [the golden apple] as a living entity rather
4
Ravikovitch, ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav,” Kol ha-shirim, 15-16.
5
See n. 2.
6
See n. 3.
74
than an object, and formulate a means to distinguish her entity from that of the entity
whose erotic allure she feels.
By the same token, the golden apple’s beloved is not named in the poem, nor identified
by species of tree or fruit. The beloved is given the epithet okhlehu referring to a desire
to draw the golden apple in orally. To refrain from referring impersonally to this figure as
“it”, and keep Hebrew’s same-sex-pronoun possibility open, yet to distinguish English
references to this figure from references to the seeking-figure of the golden apple as
“she”, this study will hold to a more formal poetic means of reference. It calls this
sought-after entity ‘the beloved’. The use of ‘the beloved’ hails from the courtly love
poems of Golden Age Spain and is in keeping with the distance created by the lack of
specificity in identification in the poem.7 The use of the term ‘beloved’ also enables us to
7
This study calls on the precedents set in discussion of the Hebrew courtly love poetry of Golden Age
Spain. Such discussion calls for the differentiation between the lover, whose point of view comes
through in any given love poem, and the beloved, referring to the usually more remote, generally
untouchable, individual whom the lover desires and seeks. By and large, although not exclusively, in
the medieval Hebrew poems of courtly love, the lover or speaker is portrayed as male – hosheq
(masculine singular), and the desired beloved sometimes hashuqa (feminine singular) and sometimes
as hashuq (masculine singular).
An example of the former arrangement may be seen in a set of courtly love poems by Samuel
Hanagid, grouped as ’El ha-tzeviya –To the Gazelle (HPSP, Vol. 1, 151-153). This gazelle is female. A
male lover pursues his beloved, addressed in feminine singular:
,‫יכיְ ִכי‬
ָ ‫ ִבּיק ֶאת ְל ָחיַי ֱא ֵלי ִמ ְד ַר ְך ֲה ִל‬/ -‫אַד‬
ְ ְ‫ֲלי ִג ְב ַעת ו‬
ֵ ‫אָשׁוּט ְכּ ֵה ֶל ְך ע‬
[...]
.‫מוֹתיְ ִכי‬
ָ ‫יפיָּה ְכ‬
ִ ‫ ֶא ֶרץ ֱאל ִֹהים יְ ֵפ‬/‫תוֹך‬
ְ ‫ישׁים ֲא ֶשׁר ֵאין ְבּ‬
ִ ‫ֲרוּא‬
ִ ‫אוּלם ְכּ ָבר ָשׁע‬
ָ
?‫ ַמה ִתּ ְצ ְבּ ִעי ֶב ֱאגוֹז א ֶֹדם ְשׂ ָפ ָתיְ ִכי‬/‫חוֹרה וְ ַעל‬
ָ ‫פוּך ִתּ ְק ְר ִעי ַעיִ ן ְשׁ‬
ְ ‫ָל ָמּה ְבּ‬
I shall venture, a wanderer to a hill of frankincense and press my cheeks to sites you have trodden,
[…]
For men have already surmised in the Land of the Lord, there is no beauty besides you.
Why use kohl to outline your eyes and nutshell to redden your lips?
An example of the latter arrangement may be seen in another set of courtly love poems by Judah
Halevy, grouped as ’El ha-tzevi –To the Gazelle (HPSP, Vol. 2, 440-443). This gazelle is a male. A
male lover pursues his beloved, talking to him and, here, about him in masculine singular:
.‫ ְל ָב ִבי ִל ְבּבוּ‬/‫ְפּנֵי אָדֹם וְ ַצח‬
‫ֲח ָמ ִסי ַעל ְצ ִבי‬
,‫נְ ָתנַנִ י ְשׁ ִבי‬
[...]
.‫ ְק ָר ָביו נִ ְצ ְרבוּ‬/‫ֶע ַתּר ְלאָח‬
ְ ‫וְ לֹא נ‬
75
sidestep the constraints of English. English, albeit to a lesser degree than Hebrew,
exhibits built-in near-compulsion to express gender, particularly through third person
pronouns.
Further to the consideration of gender and reference, this study proposes to contribute
to the analyses of the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch by suggesting a fluid ‘possibilities
span’ regarding the identity of the beloved in accordance with the concept that the
sealing and unsealing of poems is a prominent feature of postmodern poetics. As
Derrida states in observing language’s capacity for infinite possibility, “The possibility of
a secret always remains open, and this reserve is inexhaustible.”8 His statement is
made in examining the poetry of Paul Célan, “who never ceased encrypting (sealing,
unsealing).”9 The same may be said of Dahlia Ravikovitch whose poetry is insistently
occupied with techniques that seal and unseal, fasten and unfasten. An archetypal
demonstration of one of her ‘poetics of undermine’ is demonstrated in Chapter Six.
Here, then, is a working-translation of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s titular poem that serves
several purposes. It conveys the golden apple as a feminine figure of alterity
corresponding to the gender of the persona. It suggests an open ‘possibilities span’
regarding the gender and identity of her beloved in keeping with the poet’s proclivity to
provide for the sealing and unsealing of meaning.
Finally, while regrettably less
eloquent and linguistically not as rich in reverberation as the original Hebrew, as well as
consciously less poetic than the newly published translation mentioned, this working-
His visage clear and ruddy enchanted my heart.
My wrath upon a gazelle
Who captivated me,
[…]
And was not entreated by a brother whose insides were seared.
In setting up the dynamics of her poem of lover and beloved, Dahlia Ravikovitch uses two Hebrew
masculine singular referents. The English terms, lover and beloved, will be used to maintain openness
to possible combinations of lovers and beloveds, and facilitate ease of recognition in references to the
two entities. As mentioned, the lover in Ravikovitch’s poem will be referred to by pronoun as “she” in
accordance with the female figure d’altérité of the poem’s persona.
8
9
Jacques Derrida, “Poetics and Politics of Witnessing,” 67.
Loc. cit.
76
translation in progress offers readers the opportunity to gain access to the central
concepts encoded therein.10
The Love of a Golden Apple
A golden apple
Loved her devourer,
With comely looks
As her beloved’s repast,
Who took it to heart
As the beholder.
A citron did boast:
I’m more clever than she,
An arbour was upset:
She’ll perish, no longer be.
Considered unstable,
To revive her, who is able?
A citron beseeched her:
See here, you fool!
An arbour did rage:
A crime, a transgression!
Repent fully
For folly I despise, with passion.
A golden apple
Loved her devourer,
Loved the one who smote her11
Body and soul.12
A golden apple
Loved her devourer,
Did go to her smiter13
Fine fare for the palette.
10
Regrettably, some of the central concepts are not perceptible in the poetic translation recently
published by Bloch and Kronfeld. For example, the hapax legomenon, pahaz – “unstable” or “reckless”
to be discussed in terms of the biblical reverberations it brings to the second stanza of the poem, is not
accessible in the new translation, and therefore lost as a concept for readers of English only.
11
She loved the one who smote her [with love].
12
A more literal sense of the Hebrew is “with every limb.” The poet makes reference to sensations of her
limbs in additional poems concerning eros. See page 23 of this chapter. See also Chapter 4 Segment
3.6 (ii): “Descent into Eros and Intoxication of Senses.”
13
See n. 11.
77
A golden apple
Enveloped14 by her devourer
Entered her beloved,
Even suffusing the flesh.
Attracted through love and appearance to the one who seeks to internalize her, the
golden apple throws the cautions of her peers to the wind and takes an active role in her
own envelopment. Apparently the golden apple has planned, from the start, to traverse
the boundaries of her beloved’s body in order to experience the delight of total bodily
embrace. Apparently she aspires to infuse her lover with her being and all that she has
to share, from the inside.
The persona’s desire for total fusion with her beloved is not limited to this poem. A
similar desire surfaces in additional verbal portraits, such as Hishtadlut nosefet [Another
Attempt].15 There, in perseverating over love, she uses the following phrases to convey
the extent to which she craves union with her beloved:
‫ֻל ָך‬
ְ ‫אוֹת ָך כּ‬
ְ ‫ִאלּוּ ָיכ ְֹל ִתּי ְל ַה ִשּׂיג‬
,‫ֻל ָך‬
ְ ‫אוֹת ָך כּ‬
ְ ‫יך ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ִלי ְל ַה ִשּׂיג‬
ְ ‫ֵא‬
[…]
‫אוֹת ָך ְל ָכל ַה ָשּׁנִ ים‬
ְ ‫לוּ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִשּׂיג‬
,‫אוֹתך ִמ ָכּל ַה ָשּׁנִ ים‬
ְ ‫ֵא‬
ְ
‫יך ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִשּׂיג‬
[…]
‫ֻלּ ָך‬
ְ ‫ ֶשׁ ְבּכ‬-‫ֻל ָך‬
ְ ‫אוֹת ָך כּ‬
ְ ‫לוּ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִשּׂיג‬
[…]
‫ ֶשׁ ְבּ ַע ְכ ָשׁו‬-‫ֻלּ ָך‬
ְ ‫אוֹת ָך כּ‬
ְ ‫לוּ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִשּׂיג‬
16
.‫אנִ י ַע ְצ ִמי‬
ֲ ‫יך ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ֶשׁ ִתּ ְהיֶה ִלי ְכּמוֹ‬
ְ ‫ֵא‬
If I could have all of you
how could I possibly get all of you
[…]
14
The Hebrew term nivla‘ is passive, and means “was swallowed”. This poem contemplates a golden
apple who has initiated and navigated passage into the body of her beloved. She has chosen to bring
about envelopment by volition, so to speak, calling for an active verb. The verb “penetrated” comes
close, and is a hair’s breadth away from nivla‘ through recourse to metathesis: niv‘al; nevertheless, the
open ‘possibilities span’ of meaning of this poem calls for a transitive verb for her decisive ‘body to
body journey’, hence the possible choice of “entered” should be considered in translation.
15
Ravikovitch, “Hishtadlut nosefet,” Kol ha-shirim, 83-84.
16
Loc. cit.
78
If I could have you forever
How could I possibly get you from eternity,
[…]
If I could have all of you all-in-all
[…]
If I could have all of you in the here-and-now
How could you become mine like me myself.
The speaker conveys her cognitive understanding of the impossibility of the situation.
That does not, however, affect the depth of her affective yearning for overlap with her
beloved to the nth degree. She knows in the depths of her being that she needs to exert
herself bodily, and exert herself entirely, in order to attain the degree of union she
desires. Hélène Cixous describes this process of bodily exertion as ‘wearing out shoes’;
she likens the poetry-writing process to this productive exertion that involves physical
voyage:
Poetry is about traveling on foot and all its
substitutes, all forms of transportation. […] In dreams and
in writing our body is alive: we either use the whole of it or, depending on the dream,
a part. We must embark on a body-to-body journey in order
to discover the body.”17
’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav provides an example of a poem in which Ravikovitch’s
speaker daringly arranges for total corporeal embrace by venturing on a full ‘body-tobody journey’.
‫ָהב‬
ָ ‫פּוּח ז‬
ַ ‫ַתּ‬
,‫אוֹכ ֵלהוּ‬
ְ ‫נִ ְב ַלע ְבּ‬
,‫עוֹרהוּ‬
ֵ ‫ָבּא ְבּ‬
18
.‫אַף ִבּ ְב ָשׂ ָריו‬
17
Cixous, Ladder of Writing, 64-65. This book contains three lectures that Hélène Cixous delivered at
the University of California, Irvine, in May 1990: The School of the Dead, The School of Dreams and
The School of Roots.
The analogy that Cixous points to in the expression ‘wearing out shoes’ stems from her memory of
one of Grimm’s fairytales. In it, a king finds he must daily replace the worn out slippers of his
daughters. It turns out that each night, the princesses secretly descend a ladder, exit the palace, and
dance in the forest all night long. Cixous conveys this story as a metaphor for jouissance. Cixous
connects the metaphor to poets and poetry.
18
Ravikovitch, “Hishtadlut nosefet,” Kol ha-shirim, 83-84.
79
A golden apple,
Enveloped by her devourer
Entered her beloved,
Even suffusing the flesh.
This final stanza of ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav illustrates that the speaker manages to
enter her beloved orally and completely. This is not a case of a passive individual who is
swallowed up or eclipsed. This is not a matter of perdition. This is, rather, the case of an
active persona who according to plan, envelops herself completely within her beloved’s
skin and flesh.19 For her this is the consummate embrace, deep within the layers of her
beloved’s body. From this ideal posture of love which she has initiated she can share
her gifts and launch their proliferation beneath the skin and throughout the flesh of her
beloved: ba be-orehu / ’af bi-vesarav. She infuses her beloved’s being with her gifts,
through eros, from deep within: completely.
The persona’s longing for total synthesis with her beloved is not limited to ’Ahavat
tapuah ha-zahav. Neither is the persona’s portrait of herself as a golden apple. A similar
image is painted in a sonnet called Hemda with a slight modification in focus.20 In
Hemda, as in ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav, the speaker effects a ‘body-to-body journey’. In
this case, however, she draws attention to a single part of her body.
In Hemda one of the few poems in which the persona celebrates jouissance, it is her
head rather than her entire being that she likens to a golden apple. The speaker
personifies the profuse natural light and projects upon it an impetus to swallow her
head. The light is portrayed as dynamic, flowing and shining ‘insatiably’. It illuminates
the uppermost fringe of the shrubbery, streams down into the waves and catches fire in
the ripples:
19
Chapters leading up to Leviticus 15 deal with skin afflictions. Leviticus 15 outlines basic laws of purity
pertaining to bodily emissions from the flesh and skin of men and women. In circumstances of genital
emissions, the term “flesh” – basar is understood to hold a sexual connotation. In this poem the plural
term – besarav, together with the choice of verb – ba’, conveys a sexual context.
20
Ravikovitch, “Hemda,” [“Desire”; “Delight,”] Kol ha-shirim, 47.
Incidentally, the term for sonnet in Hebrew is shir zahav – literally, a ‘golden poem’. As such it is a
receptive habitat for a golden apple.
80
,‫ָדע ָשׂב ַֹע‬
ַ ‫יחים וְ ָהאוֹר לֹא י‬
ִ ‫אשׁי ַה ִשּׂ‬
ֵ ‫ִה ְז ִהירוּ ָר‬
,‫ווֹתיו נִ ַצּת‬
ָ ‫אַד‬
ְ ‫וּב ָכל‬
ְ ‫ָהר‬
ָ ‫ַלּי ַהנּ‬
ֵ ‫נִ ַתּ ְך ְבּג‬
21
...‫לבל ַֹע‬
ְ ‫ָהב‬
ָ ‫פּוּח ז‬
ַ ‫ֹאשׁי ָהיָה ְבּ ֵעינָיו ְכּ ַת‬
ִ ‫אַף ר‬
The hedgetops radiated insatiable light,
It coursed into the river waves igniting all its ripples,
regarding my head as a golden apple to swallow...
In ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav, her beloved seeks to draw the persona in orally. Similarly
the light in Hemda exhibits the metaphoric urge to swallow the golden apple of the
speaker’s head. Such desire is mirrored in the depiction of the natural world: yellow
water lilies open their mouths to take in the gentle waves of river water:
‫יהן ִל ְבל ַֹע‬
ֶ ‫ָהר ְצ ֻהבּוֹת ָפּעֲרוּ ֶאת ִפּ‬
ָ ‫שׁוֹשׁנֵּי נ‬
ַ
22
… ‫ָהר‬
ָ ‫אַדווֹת ַהנ‬
ְ ‫ֶאת‬
Yellow water lilies parted their lips to swallow
the river ripples …
The speaker reports the incomparable delight of desire thus felt:
‫יעי ְבּ ַשׁ ָבּת‬
ִ ‫וְ אוֹתוֹ ַהיוֹם ָהיָה יוֹם ַה ְשּׁ ִב‬
[...]
23
ָ ‫ָד ְע ִתּי ֶח ְמ ָדּה ֶשׁלֹא ָהיְ ָתה ָכּ‬
ַ ‫וְ אַז י‬
.‫מוֹה‬
And that very day was the Sabbath
[…]
And then I knew unparalleled delight.
It makes sense that hemda, this rare erotic delight, is reportedly experienced on hashevi’i be-shabbat – the Sabbath, corresponding to the seventh day following the six of
creation. That deliberate choice of timing amplifies and draws on the pleasure of
sensations already bequeathed to that rarest of days: hemdat yamim – most desirable,
21
22
23
Ravikovitch, “Hemda,” Kol ha-shirim, 47.
Loc. cit.
Loc. cit.
81
most delightful of all days, as it is also designated in liturgy.24 Those sensations pool in
collective conscience as ‘oneg shabbat connoting sabbatical delight.
At moments of heightened desire the speaker does not feel restricted by bodily barriers.
In ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav the golden apple contemplates entering her beloved orally.
In Kitmei ’or25 [Specks of Light] below, she simply materializes within the dusky core of
the body of her beloved as silent specks of light, possessed of the fluidity of essential oil
of myrrh. Her concentrated liquidity plays a part in her ability to permeate her beloved’s
being from within and to effect total synthesis:
‫אָפל נִ ְט ָבּעוּ ְכּ ָת ִמים ֶשׁל אוֹר‬
ֵ ‫וּבח ֶֹמר ַהזֶּה ָה‬
ַ
‫וְ לֹא נִ ְשׁ ַמע ָבּ ֶהם קוֹל וְ ַר ַחשׁ ָבּם לֹא ַי ֲעבֹר‬
.‫זוֹל ִפים ִמן ַה ָפּ ְך‬
ְ ְ‫ָרים ו‬
ִ ‫וְ ֵהם ְכּמוֹ ֶשׁ ֶמן ַהמּוֹר נִ גּ‬
ִ ‫וְ ֵהם נִ גּ‬
‫נוּע ָתם‬
ָ ‫וּשׁ ֵלוָה ְת‬
ְ ‫ָרים ִכּ ְב ָשׂ ִמים וְ ַר ָכּה‬
‫בּוּע ָק ָטן‬
ַ ‫וּבח ֶֹמר ַהזֶּה ָהאָ ֵפל ֵהם נִ ְקוִ ים ְל ַמ‬
ַ
26
.‫דוֹתם‬
ָ ‫עוֹב ִרים ַעל ְגּ‬
ְ ְ‫גּוֹאים ו‬
ִ ‫וְ יֵשׁ ָבּ ֶהם ֵחן וְ ֶח ְמ ָדּה ֶשׁ‬
And embedded in this dark matter are specks of light
nary a sound is heard in their midst, nor a rustle among them
and they resemble oil of myrrh, trickling and flowing from the flask.
And they flow like perfume, their movement soft and tranquil
and in this dark matter they pool in a wellspring
in their midst yearning-desire welling up, overflowing their bounds.
The liquid sensation described pulsates silently as the jouissance carried in the word
hemda. The sheer pleasure may be linked to both the process by which the persona
24
The wording “hemdat yamim” – ‘most desirable of days’ – derives from the repetition of the central
prayer of the Sabbath day Musaf – the additional service. There, it is positioned as a remembrance of
Creation:
.‫ זכר למעשה בראשית‬,‫ חמדת ימים אותו קראת‬,‫והשביעי רצית בו וקדשתו‬
for You favored the seventh day and declared it holy.
You called it ‘most desirable of days’
in remembrance of Creation.
See: “Yismehu,” Jonathan Sacks, ed. and transl., The Koren Siddur, (Jerusalem: Koren, 2009) 546547.
25
26
Ravikovitch, “Kitmei ’or,” Kol ha-shirim, 43.
Loc. cit.
82
becomes present inside her lover and to the fluid sensations of tranquil pooling of light,
proliferation and overflow deep within her beloved. Similar fluidity facilitates the
speaker’s suffusion from within in Tefillat ’ashkava le-’ahar sheva-‘esrei shana:
27
,‫בוּעה ֶאת ָכּל ַח ְד ֵרי ַהיָּם‬
ָ ‫ֲרה ַה ְטּ‬
ָ ‫אַך ְכּ ֶשׁ ָע ְב ָרה ַה ַנּע‬
ְ
28
ִ ‫ָד ְענוּ ֶשׁ ַהיָּם הוּא ַה‬
ַ‫י‬
.‫מּוֹליד ֶאת ַהנְּ ָח ִלים‬
Yet when the drowned lass passed through all the sea’s chambers,
We knew that the sea was the bearer of streams.
The persona, whose figure of alterity is cast as a drowned young woman, passes fluidly
through all of the chambers of the sea. Mordecai Shalev analyzes the persona’s active
passage as fertilization of the sea. Correspondingly the sea is cast as the one whom the
woman desires and as the ‘bearer’ or ‘birth-giver’ of the tributaries.29
With regard to ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav Shalev also notes Ravikovitch’s use of the
terms ba […] bi-vesarav in their scriptural erotic connotations and that they similarly
indicate the persona’s fertilization of her beloved from within. Ravikovitch thus employs
intertextual resonance to its most effective advantage to “write her self and her ‘body’ in
its abundance and multiplicity.”30
Apropos of the golden apple infusing her beloved with her being, the question arises as
to what gifts she seeks to bestow in this manner. To this end readers must discern the
apple’s encoded imagery. Juliette Hassine identifies the symbolism of the motif of the
golden apple in several cultures, most particularly in Greek mythology. She elucidates
that among the numerous labours with which Eurystheus charges Hercules is the
enjoinment to steal the golden apples of the Garden of the Hesperides. These had been
a wedding gift of Zeus to Hera. They are also known as Athena’s love apples. As such
these golden apples are encoded with eros and its danger.
27
28
Ravikovitch, “Tefillat ’ashkava le-’ahar sheva-‘esrei shana,” [“Requiem After Seventeen Years,”] Kol hashirim, 77.
Loc. cit.
29
Shalev, “Dahlia Ravikovitch – meshoreret meqonenet.”
30
Calarco and Atterton, “Hélène Cixous,” 275. Writing of this nature exemplifies écriture féminine.
83
Hassine provides additional leads to the essence of golden apples as secret, precious
wisdom along the lines of the philosophy and alchemy of gold that some cultures of the
far-east, for example, would expect to gain in a successful quest for a philosopher’s
stone.31 The implication is that the golden apple of Ravikovitch’s title poem permeates
her beloved through eros with love, philosophic wisdom and the gold of alchemy.
Hassine further suggests that a specific Sabbath eve song, by kabbalist Rabbi Isaac
Luria, might have steered the muse of Dahlia Ravikovitch toward her golden apple. With
precious words the song ’Azamer bi-shevahin bestows crowns upon the shekhina – the
feminine aspect of the divine, and accompanies her to a field of holy apples to unite with
her groom. Hassine relates that the musical composition shares a number of motifs that
overlap with those of ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav making it a likely source of inspiration for
the poet and for the naissance of her golden apple.32 Hassine’s suggestion brings this
study a step closer to its occupation with classical Jewish sources.
3.2
A Golden Apple Endowed with Precious Gifts
Through recourse to the intertexts of classical Jewish sources and layers of Hebrew
literature Dahlia Ravikovitch ensures that the golden apple bears additional precious
gifts. Previously, these endowments have not been fully noted in the scholarship
concerning the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch. The influences and intertexts that the poet
employs reach as far back as the Hebrew bible. For example, the golden apples
portrayed in Proverbs 25:11 are encased in silver filigree, and compared to beautifully
composed verbal expressions:
:‫אָפנָיו‬
ְ ‫ָהב ְבּ ַמ ְשׂ ִכּיּוֹת ָכּ ֶסף ָדּ ָבר ָדּבֻר ַעל‬
ָ ‫פּוּחי ז‬
ֵ ‫ַתּ‬
Like golden apples in silver showpieces
Is a phrase well turned.33
31
Hassine, Shira u-mitos, 48, 59.
32
Hassine, Shira u-mitos, 60-61.
33
JPS Tanakh, Proverbs 25:11.
84
With assurance that such notorious echoes resound in the collective conscience of
readers versed in Hebrew bible and its adages, Ravikovitch confers the gift of glittering
poetic language upon the golden apple. In addition to crafting polished poetic language
in modern Hebrew, she dips into the strata of the language stemming from biblical,
rabbinic and medieval Hebrew literature as well.
The following are two illustrations of Ravikovitch’s manifold uses of polished gems of
Hebrew arising from previous layers of the language. One encompasses her use of
hapax legomena, individual words which occur once in all of Hebrew Scriptures, in
addition to rare biblical words and ‘miqra-isms’.34 This demonstration will be confined to
a single, heavily laden hapax. A second is the poet’s careful selection of words which
were first employed in the tannaitic Hebrew of rabbinic literature.
In ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav the unidentified arbour casts the golden apple as pahaz, a
hapax legomenon connoting ‘unstable’ or ‘reckless’. The scriptural use of this particular
adjective is singular and meant to sting the ear. Toward the conclusion of Genesis this
word is ensconced in Jacob’s deathbed blessings of his offspring. It functions as rebuke
in his address to Reuben:
35
...‫תּוֹתר‬
ַ ‫ַפּ ַחז ַכּ ַמּיִ ם אַל‬
Unstable as water, you shall excel no longer…36
34
Mikulitzky, “Ha-tashtit ha-miqra’it. Meirav Mikulitzky identifies Ravikovitch’s use of biblical Hebrew
forms such as: bound constructs; vav-consecutive verbs; hapax legomena and rare biblical words
(beginning on p. 56); and ‘miqra-isms’ – modern Hebrew words and wordings that Ravikovitch has
patterned after biblicisms. Mikulitzky asserts that Ravikovitch steeps certain poems densely in biblical
Hebrew to veilthe persona’s meaning. She contends that this technique buffers what would otherwise
be a direct revelation of powerful, boundless eroticism (74).
35
Genesis 49:4.
36
JPS Tanakh, Genesis 49:4. In blessing Reuben, Jacob refers to his son’s family status as firstborn and
manifestation of his own virility. He also rebukes Reuben for his destabilization of the family through
his contrived escapade with Bilha. Reuben’s rash usurpation of his father’s conjugal union with Bilha
was an overt manoeuvre to undermine his father’s status as the male head of the household as well
as to secure the claim to his birthright.
Entries in the Brown-Driver-Briggs Lexicon convey that the Hebrew word pahaz denotes “be wanton,
reckless”; the parallel word to pahaz in Arabic means ”be reckless”, and that the similar term pehaz in
85
In this poem the citron and the arbour alternately beseech and admonish the golden
apple to exercise rational restraint. Eventually they grow cross with her plans for
reckless behaviour, question her intelligence and wax insulting:
:‫ֶא ְתרוֹג בּוֹ יִ ְר ַהב‬
,‫ָח ַכ ְמ ִתּי ִמ ֶמּנוּ‬
:‫ילן ִה ְת ַע ַצּב‬
ָ ‫ִא‬
.‫ָימֹת וְ ֵאינֶנוּ‬
,‫ֶח ַשׁב‬
ְ ‫ַפּ ַחז נ‬
37
?‫יבנוּ‬
ֶ ‫ִמי יְ ִש‬
A citron did boast:
I’m more clever than she,
An arbour was upset:
She’ll perish, no longer be.
Considered unstable,
To revive her, who is able?
The use of the hapax brings intertextual resonance to the poem in thematic sound
bytes: tension, audacity, treacherous behaviour, potential downfall, crossing an illicit
behavioural boundary, violating a taboo, traversing a precarious sexual border fraught
with peril, boldness, not to mention resolute individuation, ironically for the purpose of
coupling. Ravikovitch succeeds in this poetically telegraphic accomplishment with a
single word of highly-polished biblical Hebrew.
In designating the citron tree as ’etrog38 and the unnamed arbour as ’ilan,39 words which
do not appear in biblical Hebrew,40 Ravikovitch makes use of the tannaitic Hebrew of the
Syriac conveys “be lascivious”. F. Brown with the cooperation of S. Driver, and C. Briggs, The BrownDriver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon: With a Lexicon containing the Biblical Aramaic (Peabody:
Hendrickson, 2005. Reprinted from the 1906 originally published by Houghton, Mifflin and Co., Boston)
808.
37
Ravikovitch, ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav,” Kol ha-shirim, 15-16.
38
mSukka 3:5, 6, 7, 11; mBiqurim 2:6, for example.
39
mPe’a 3:5; mKil’ayim 1:7-8, 6:3-5; mShevi‘it 1:3,8, 4:6,10; mMa‘aser Sheini 3:7; m‘Orla 1:3-5, 11;
m‘Eiruvin 4:7, 10, for example.
40
These words do appear in biblical Aramaic. Onkelos uses the plural Aramaic ’etrog in (Leviticus 23:40)
to parallel biblical Hebrew’s use of peri ‘etz hadar (Loc. cit.). The biblical Aramaic in Daniel 4:8, 11, 17,
20 and 23 refers to ilana envisioned. Their use in Hebrew is linked to their recorded début in the
tannaitic layer of Hebrew and onward.
86
mishnaic era, sometimes called early middle Hebrew. Forms of the rare verb sirhev,
used for ‘urged’ or ‘beseeched’ in the third stanza, also have their first appearances in
the literature of the rabbinic sages.41 They remain rare and identifiable as they not in
common parlance in modern Hebrew oral discourse.
The examples of polished poetic language in the poem present just a tiny sampling of
the calibre of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s grasp of the layers of Hebrew language and
literature. In turn they present the depth with which her speaker intends to bequeath the
gift for producing ‘golden apples in silver showpieces’.
To continue looking at the contemporary poetry’s influences and intertexts with roots in
previous layers of Hebrew requires a look at additional biblical apples. Apples
summoned by the female lover of the Song of Songs, while not explicitly golden, were
considered to have naturopathic properties thought to revive individuals ailing because
of love. Bemoaning her lovelorn state the maiden at the heart of one of the love poems
in the Song of Songs calls out for their succour:
42
:‫אַה ָבה אָנִ י‬
ֲ ‫חוֹלת‬
ַ ‫פּוּחים ִכּי‬
ִ ‫ַס ְמּכוּנִ י ָבּ ֲא ִשׁישׁוֹת ַר ְפּדוּנִ י ַבּ ַתּ‬
Sustain me with sweet-delicacies,
Bolster me with apples,
For I am sick with love.
Ravikovitch thus beckons the naturopathic properties of the fruit to reduce her persona’s
symptoms precipitated by too much or too little love. In her case, being bolstered with
apples can only help to a degree; likewise, repose beneath the apple tree, at a time of
awakening love, in the spring garden of the Song of Songs, is of limited effect.43 The
persona needs to become the apple tree or the apple itself. She needs to function as
the apple. From this poem forth, Ravikovitch’s persona is absorbed in being the apple.
And so she is, being the apple: gathering the momentum and gifts of apples through the
41
bBerakhot 47a; bShabbat 10a; bBaba Qama 28a, 32b; bHulin 94a; and in aggadic literature such as
Deuteronomy Rabba, Parashat Va-’ethanan, dibbur ha-mathil: rav lakh.
42
Song of Songs 2:5.
43
Song of Songs 8:5.
87
ages, particularly those of classical Hebrew texts. She forwards the conventions of
Hebrew literature through her modern Hebrew poetry.
In addition to the biblical apples she gathers Ravikovitch’s persona also reaches for the
apples of the Hebrew poetry of Golden Age Spain. In love poems they are lauded for
their scent, colour and shape, and touted for taste and texture. They serve as points of
comparison for the cheeks and chests of lovers from afar who imagine embrace. To
illustrate, below are pertinent excerpts of medieval Hebrew love poems by Moses Ibn
Ezra (ca 1055 - ca 1135-1140) and Solomon Ibn Gabirol (1021 - ca 1058), two of the
Golden Age poets of Spain. The poems are dubbed “Apple” or “The Apple” by
Schirmann in anthologizing the work of the poets’ diwans.
[‫]תפוח‬
44
:‫נוֹשׁק‬
ֵ ְ‫יח ו‬
ַ ‫ ְל ַבד עֹנֶג ְל ֵמ ִר‬/‫ ֵאל לֹא ְב ָראוֹ‬,‫ ֱא ֶמת‬,‫פּוּח‬
ַ ‫וְ ַת‬
.‫חוֹשׁק‬
ֵ ְ‫בוּצים בּוֹ— ְפּנֵי ָחשׁוּק ו‬
ִ ‫ ְק‬/‫ֲח ַשׁ ְב ִתּיהוּ— ְבּשׁוּר ָירֹק וְ אָדֹם‬
[Apple]
Now the apple, in truth, God created it
For the sole pleasure of the one who inhales and kisses it:
Upon seeing it green and red
Assembled in it – a beloved’s and lover’s face.
[‫]התפוח‬
?‫ימה‬
ָ ִ‫ ְסגוֹר ִמחוּץ וְ ֶכ ֶסף ִמ ְפּנ‬/ --‫ֲהיֵשׁ ָכּזֹאת ְבּ ֶצ ַמח ָה ֲא ָד ָמה‬
[...]
45
.‫ֶה ְפ ָכה ְלרֹב ָבּ ְשׁ ָתּה ֲא ֻד ָמּה‬
ֶ ‫ וְ נ‬/‫ָשׁים‬
ִ ‫פוּה ֲאנ‬
ָ ‫ְכּ ַע ְל ָמה ֶשׁ ֲה ָד‬
[The Apple]
Is there anything like it growing on earth –
Gold on the outside and silver within?
[…]
Like a maiden jostled
Blushing red in consternation.
44
Moses Ibn Ezra, [“Tapuah,”] HPSP, Vol. 2, 374.
45
Solomon Ibn Gabirol, [“Ha-tapuah,”] HPSP, Vol. 1, 219.
88
[‫]התפוח‬
,‫שׁוּקה‬
ָ ‫יח—וְ ִת ְשׁ ַכּח ַה ְתּ‬
ַ ‫ וְ ָת ִר‬/,‫תוּקה‬
ָ ‫ ַקח ְבּ ַכ ֶפּ ָך ְמ‬,‫ֲאדוֹנִ י‬
46
...‫ֲא ַד ְמ ֶדּ ֶמת ְשׁ ֵתּי ָפנִ ים ְכּ ַכ ָלּה‬
[The Apple]
Take, dear sir, this sweetness in hand,
Inhale - and forget your yearning,
Blushing doubly pink-cheeked like a bride …
In the ‘apple poem’ excerpts, above, the apple is alternately a visual reflection of lovers,
a twist on the valuable metals mentioned in Proverbs, a blushing maiden, a flushedcheek bride. It is red and green. It is scented and sensual.
Conscious of the attributes of the apples of medieval belles lettres, Ravikovitch
underscores their precious value and endows the golden apple of her contemporary
writing with similar and additional influences and attributes. They include the pleasing
colours and appealing shapes of visual beauty, sensory pleasures such as enticing
flavour and scent, virtue and the belles lettres of passion and prophecy.
Ravikovitch’s golden apple is endowed with similar attributes:
‫ָהב‬
ָ ‫פּוּח ז‬
ַ ‫ַתּ‬
[...]
‫טֹבוּ ַמ ְראָיו‬
,‫ְל ַמ ֲא ָכ ֵלהוּ‬
A golden apple
[…]
With comely looks
As her beloved’s repast
The golden apple is pleasing to the eye in general – tovu mar’av – and appealing as a
treat for the palate – le-ma’akhal(ehu) – specifically for the one who wishes to savour
her. The aspects of beauty and taste in the poem are anchored intertextually in loving
46
Solomon Ibn Gabirol, [“Ha-tapuah,”] HPSP, Vol. 1, 220.
89
noted in the Song of Songs47 and connected to the fruit of the primordially created trees
of the Garden of Eden,48 as follows. Both aspects are emphasized through an
intertextual echo that resounds as a result of the poet’s word choice. The rare biblical
word tovu, meaning ‘goodly’ or ‘comely’ appears only twice in scriptures. Its occurrence
in the Song of Songs relevant in the present context, where it refers to the beauty as
well as flavour and fragrance of a lover’s loving, or kisses, perceived by her partner:
49
:‫שׂ ִמים‬
ָ ‫ְבּ‬
‫יח ְשׁ ָמנַיִ ְך ִמ ָכּל‬
ַ ‫ַמה יָּפוּ ד ַֹדיִ ְך ֲאח ִֹתי ַכ ָלּה ַמה טֹּבוּ ד ַֹדיִ ְך ִמיַּיִ ן וְ ֵר‬
How beautiful is your loving, my sister-bride,
How much better is your loving than wine,
50
The fragrance of your oils than all spices.
Both visual beauty and flavour, in the given excerpt, also call up echoes of the biblical
narrative of the Garden of Eden which also uses the word tov – ‘fit’ or ‘good’. In that
garden God planted:
51
...
‫ֶח ָמד ְל ַמ ְר ֶאה וְ טוֹב ְל ַמ ֲא ָכל‬
ְ ‫ָכּל ֵעץ נ‬
every tree pleasant to regard and fit as food (Genesis 2:9)
Ravikovitch thus deploys the rare biblical word tovu to incorporate intertextual
resonance in three-part harmony. Her golden apple of comely appearance –
tovu
mar’av – harmonizes with the good ‘loving’ or kisses of the beloved in the Song of
Songs – tovu dodayikh – harmonizing with the fruit of the trees of the Garden of Eden,
pleasant and good for both visual and oral intake: nehmad le-mar’e ve-tov le-ma’akhal.
Indeed, as a golden apple, she is identified among the fruit of trees permitted to Adam
and Eve of Hebrew Scriptures. Both aspects qualify her as a tasty and acceptable
repast suited to the penchant of her beholder:
47
48
Song of Songs 4:10.
Genesis 2:9.
49
Song of Songs 4:10.
50
Translation of Song of Songs 4:10: Benjamin J. Segal, The Song of Songs: A Woman in Love,
Translation and Commentary (Jerusalem and New York: Gefen Publishing House, 2009) 46.
51
Genesis 2:9
90
52
‫ָבּרוֹת ְל ִשׁנָיו‬
Fine fare for the palette.
On account of her visual loveliness and anticipated tang, the golden apple is regarded
as a delectable amuse bouche for her beloved to nibble. On account of her entity as
‘permitted fruit’ she is, by nature, virtuous.53
In addition to flavour the golden apple’s sensory attributes include fragrance. In the
medieval maqaamot of Solomon Ibn Saqbel54 and Jacob ben Elazar55 scented apples
are dispatched through the air by one lover to another in a gesture of courtly love. The
nard and myrrh which perfume these apples hail from the Song of Songs.56 More
specifically they are the fragrances of the Song’s awakening spring garden, site of
youthful love and epicentre of divine love.57
52
Ravikovitch, ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav,” Kol ha-shirim, 15-16.
53
While Adam and Eve were forbidden by God to consume the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good
and Evil, whose variety is unspecified in Hebrew scriptures, they were permitted to help themselves to
the fruit of visually attractive trees and of those which they found pleasing to the taste buds.
Ravikovitch’s golden apple is identified on one level with the permitted fruit of these trees of Eden.
A christological view of the biblical narrative of Eden identifies the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of
Good and Evil as an apple. This trace multiplies the images in the poem, permitting a reading of the
golden apple on another level, as forbidden fruit: the divine knowledge of good and evil, the knowledge
of eros, named according to Genesis 3:6 as ‘enlightenment’ or ‘wisdom’:
... ‫ֶח ָמד ָה ֵעץ ְל ַה ְשׂ ִכּיל‬
ְ ‫ַתּ ֶרא ָה ִא ָשּׁה ִכּי טוֹב ָה ֵעץ ְל ַמ ֲא ָכל וְ ִכי ַת ֲאוָה הוּא ָל ֵעינַיִ ם וְ נ‬
ֵ‫ו‬
The woman saw that the tree was good for eating and a delight to the eyes, and that the tree
was desirable as a source of wisdom… (Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Genesis 3:6.)
The beloved who is about to savour the golden apple will ingest her ‘enlightenment’. Just as the
‘nature of the ‘enlightenment’ is left open to interpretation, so is the identity of the one who savours the
golden apple in the poem. That being coincides with the image of Adam or Eve, or both. The
combinations and permutations of erotically engaged Adams and Eves of the poem are, therefore, left
open and multiple.
54
Solomon Ibn Saqbel, Mahberet Ne’um ’Asher ben Yehuda, HPSP, Vol. 2, 556-565. Henceforth: Ibn
Saqbel, Ne’um ’Asher ben Yehuda.
55
Yona David, “Ha-mahberet ha-teshi‘i: ’ahavat sahar ve-khima,” Sippurei ’ahava shel Ya’akov ben
’El‘azar, (Ramat Aviv and Tel Zviv: Hotaza’at Ramot, Tel Aviv University), 87-106. Henceforth: David,
Sippurei ’ahava.
56
Song of Songs 4:14, for example.
57
Laura Wiseman, “Tropes of Nostalgia: Song of Songs as the Natural Literary Habitat of the Hebrew
Poets of Medieval Spain, presented at: ”A Colloquium on Continuity and Change, Centre for Medieval
Studies, University of Toronto, Oct. 25-26, 2008.
91
In Ne’um ’Asher ben Yehuda, the earlier work by Ibn Saqbel, the apple is engraved on
two faces with a poetic missive of courtly distance and courtly love and not immediately
cherished by its recipient.58 In the later maqaamot of ben Elazar, known collectively as
Sippurei ’ahava – Love Stories, there is a similar and arguably more spectacular
occurrence. Treasured by the lovesick suitor Sahar, the apple of his beloved Kima is
inscribed with exquisite verse as a gift of both love and poetry.59
Ravikovitch’s persona is both the poet who composes ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav and its
central figure; that is to say, the persona writes of herself. She writes her ‘self’ in third
person: she constructs a self who is a golden love apple. The persona propels her self
as a beautiful gift of poetry into the internal recesses of her beloved. While there is no
overt mention of scent in this poem, there are subtleties regarding the sensory nature of
her journey. First, her oral ingress connotes a sensory experience of flavour and scent.
Second, there is an all-encompassing sensory reference in the following stanza:
‫ָהב‬
ָ ‫פּוּח ז‬
ַ ‫ַתּ‬
,‫אוֹכ ֵלהוּ‬
ְ ‫אָהב ֶאת‬
ַ
‫אָהב ֶאת ַמ ֵכּהוּ‬
ַ
.‫ְבּ ָכל ֲא ָב ָריו‬
A golden apple
Loved her devourer,
Loved the one who smote her60
Body and soul.
The gender constraints of the Hebrew render the text conveniently ambiguous, allowing
the sense of ‘completely’, or more literally, ‘with every limb’ to apply equally to lover and
In this garden the Shulamite and her lover find, release and continue to seek one another
in dream scene and conscious quest, in playful bouts and fevered pursuit, and every register
of love in between. In an allegorical reading of the text the Shulamite and her beloved stand
for the assembly of Israel and God respectively, mutually engaged in ‘hide and seek’. An erotic
eading of the love poems pictures the awakening of love between a young man and woman and
follows its currents throughout the courtship.
58
Ibn Saqbel, Ne’um ’Asher ben Yehuda, 557.
59
David, Sippurei ’ahava, 89.
60
As in n. 11 – She loved the one who smote her [with love].
92
beloved. The ambiguity can suggest that she loved her beloved’s every limb and organ,
in every sense. As well or alternatively, the ambiguity can convey that she loved her
beloved with every single one of her own limbs and organs, and in all senses. In
multiple directions, physical sensation and sensory experience capture the imagination
of the readers. With this fusion of amour, verse and sensory experience, in the epitome
of all love letters – her self, Ravikovitch’s golden apple is elevated to the heights of
belles lettres laced with passion.
In the same era that Jacob ben Elazar pens his literary Love Stories, Abraham Ibn Ezra
comments on the biblical Song of Songs, equating ‘sweet-delicacies and apples’ to
poets. In the extension of his commentary they are related to both prophecy and
wisdom. He connects wisdom and prophecy to providing golden apples.
:‫ כלי זכוכית מליאות יין‬- ‫באשישות‬
‫ בלשון ישמעאל כמו חזקוני‬- ‫רפדוני‬
[...]
‫ וענין אשישות ותפוחים הם המשוררים‬,‫ הוא בית ה' מקום נסוך היין‬- ‫בית היין‬
‫הלא תראה ימשל דברי הנבואה ליין וחלב‬
61
:‫וכן חכמות נשים בנתה ביתה מסכה יינה ועוד תפוחי זהב‬
With sweet-delicacies – glass flasks filled with wine:
Bolster me – in Arabic, like fortify me
[…]
To the winery – That is God’s (house) [temple], the place of wine libations, and
[as to] the matter of sweet-delicacies and apples, they are the poets.
Do you not see that words of prophecy are being likened to wine and milk.
And likewise “Wisdom has built her house […] poured her wine” (Proverbs
9:1-2); moreover [she has set out] golden apples.
By association the voice of Ravikovitch’s golden apple gains influence and stature as
wise and prophetic. Ravikovitch also invests the golden apple with the visionary sexual
multiplicity inherent in her écriture féminine. This is evident in the golden apple’s ease
and ability to traverse the boundaries of her beloved’s body. The golden apple is
possessed of that which Cixous deems “vatic bisexuality”:62 that is, prophecy of
61
Abraham Ibn Ezra, commentary on the Song of Songs 2:5.
62
Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 281.
93
sexuality “which doesn’t annul differences but stirs them up, pursues them, increases
their number.”63 To be sure the kind of prophecy inherent in the ‘multiplicity’ of écriture
féminine differs from the nature of the prophecy which Ibn Ezra projected. Just as at
times the words and the deeds of prophets do not register with their contemporaries, it
may well be that the wisdom and prophecy of Ravikovitch’s golden apple did not fully
register with all members of the poem’s initial readership.
For years the golden apple’s prophecy was accessible but not always accessed. In the
nineteen-fifties this poet’s golden apple was highly conscious of her advantage of
having “in-formation”.64 It has taken some of her readers another half century to glimpse
it. In a mode of thinking similar to that which coins the metaphor for the reality of
women’s “in-formation”, Maimonides (1138 – 1204) interprets the golden apples of
Proverbs and their ‘transpicuous’ silver casings through analogy. In the introduction to
The Guide of the Perplexed, Maimonides contrasts their precious metal components in
distinguishing between “tzura” – inner essence, and “to’ar” – outward perceivable form.65
This analogy is instructive in gaining access to the prophecy of Ravikovitch’s poetic
golden apples.
Ravikovitch crafts each poem as a maskit - a precious and intricate silver filigree vessel.
Its to’ar or ‘form’ is lovely to regard and beautiful to read. The surface structures,
specific wordings and cadences of the poems are, themselves, pleasing to the eye, the
ear and the lips. The poem ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav is pleasant to read, hear or recite
because of its naïve-sounding surface structure. It has the charm of a parable with
talking trees who converse with the gravitas of biblical phraseology. There is an
63
Loc. cit.
64
Hamutal Tsamir, “Jewish-Israeli Poetry, Dahlia Ravikovitch, and the Gender of Representation,”
Jewish Social Studies 14.3 (Spring/Summer 2008): 102. In the context of situating a male to female
gender transformation in the symbolic identity of Israel, beyond the early statehood generation,
Hamutal Tsamir asserts regarding women, “Precisely because of their marginal status, they have
access to the internal structure – the in-formation […]”
65
Moses Maimonides, introduction, The Guide for the Perplexed, trans. M. Friedländer (New York:
Dover Publications, 1956 unaltered republication of 1904 second edition), 1-11.
94
irresistible thrill to the traces of the peril which these trees convey at the level of surface
structure.
The surface elements of form are, nevertheless, only the external trappings of the
prophetic treasures that reside deep within Ravikovitch’s poems. Each poem houses
the inner essence and deep secrets of an attractive golden apple. In the case of ’Ahavat
tapuah ha-zahav the inner essence is precisely that: the lovely golden apple who is
Ravikovitch’s persona. The deep secrets are the many facets of this talented persona:
visual beauty, fine flavour and fragrance, virtue, belles lettres of poetry, passion and
prophecy. They peek through their silver filigree form but require careful scrutiny to be
perceived individually and in sum.
By virtue of her education and milieu, Dahlia Ravikovitch was well read in bible and
familiar with related midrash. By virtue of her imagination and gift for polished language
she was skilful in employing biblical cadences and reverberations as well as references
to elements of rabbinic literature. She was also steeped in the subsequent layers of
Hebrew literature and would, therefore, have been aware of associations with apples of
medieval Hebrew poetry and more. Her speaker encodes the golden apple-motif with
their echoes and élan.
Readers may return, then, to the title of Ravikovitch’s poem knowing that on a level
close to the surface, the golden apple is pleasing in colour and appealing in shape,
flavourful, scented, virtuous and sensuous. Readers also know that there is more to the
golden apple than first meets the eye. She is far from the frivolous fool that the citron
envisions. She is not about to allow herself to be destructively devoured; savoured,
perhaps, but not devoured. She is not the sinner that the fruitless arbour imagines,
about to wantonly breach inflexible boundaries. She knows how to tread lightly. She
knows how to glide. There are exalted purposes to her intended influx. She enters her
lover with eros, with love and philosophic wisdom. The persona permeates her lover
with the belles lettres of fine poetry, of passion and pleasure as prophecy and, as will be
seen, as the treasured essence of the secrets of creation.
95
Hélène Cixous observes that writers who inhabit the sphere of écriture féminine
descend to the depths in order to gain access to their writing process. She links the rich
natural reserves present in the depths to those of the days of creation:
Writing is not put there, it does not happen out there, it does not
come from outside. On the contrary, it comes from deep inside. It comes
from what Genet calls the “nether realms,” the inferior realms (domaines
inférieurs). […] this is where the
treasure of writing lies, where it is formed, where it has stayed since the
beginning of creation: down below.66
Cixous adds that, “The name of the place changes according to our writers. […] It is
deep in my body, further down behind thought […] my womb, and if you have not got a
womb – then it is somewhere ‘else’.”67
Ravikovitch’s persona, who naturally feels writing deep in her body in a reservoir of
creation, exerts herself to descend to the depths of her beloved’s body to share creative
impulses there as well:
‫ָהב‬
ָ ‫פּוּח ז‬
ַ ‫ַתּ‬
,‫אוֹכ ֵלהוּ‬
ְ ‫נִ ְב ַלע ְבּ‬
,‫עוֹרהוּ‬
ֵ ‫ָבּא ְבּ‬
.‫אַף ִבּ ְב ָשׂ ָריו‬
A golden apple,
Enveloped by her devourer
Entered her beloved,
Even suffusing the flesh.
Ravikovitch’s persona thus exerts herself, taking extraordinary measures to traverse the
barriers of her beloved’s body. She sends torrents of her creative essence through her
beloved’s being, suffusing her beloved’s flesh from the inside with her poetry and
prophecy, wisdom and secrets.68 Cixous notes the obstacles and exertion exacted by
66
Cixous, Ladder of Writing 118.
67
Cixous, Ladder of Writing 118.
68
While Juliette Hassine asserts that the transition of the golden apple to the body of her beloved does
not entail perdition, she projects the golden apple’s agenda as a quest to gain the beloved’s ‘better,
96
such a quest for descent to the depths to find and share the gifts at the heart of
creativity:
You must climb down in order to go in the direction of that place. But […]
this sort of descent is much more difficult to achieve,
much more tiring, much more physically exacting (physically because
the soul is body), than climbing up. […] it requires the
whole strength of everything that is you […] – to go through the
various doors, obstacles, walls and distances we have forged to make a life69
Upon stepping back, readers will recall that the golden apple is the speaker’s figure
d’altérité and that this is her initial verbal self-portrait. Clearly the persona has set
sublime standards for herself in her construction of self. She makes it known from the
very first page of the oeuvre that she is a golden apple. She is a poet. She is
passionate. She is a prophet. She seeks and confers love, language, philosophy,
‘abundance and multiplicity’, wisdom and essence. She is in search of the treasures of
creation and a being with whom to share them. In Chapter Four, it will be shown that in
addition to her entity as golden apple, the persona subtly cloaks herself as both bat
melekh and sofer mahir – a royal princess and a skilled scribe.
With the acknowledgement that there are generations of readers and writers who read
only masochism or compulsion to interact with a destructive lover in this poem,70 it can
now be read in an additional dimension. With the acknowledgement that there are those
who imagine only death and destruction by dint of devouring, there is now an option to
read the subject of the term okhlehu in a positive light. Readers may view this being as
the beloved who savours the lover, the beloved who seeks to draw her in orally.
Remarkably Ravikovitch defies the constraints of language and body in an extremely
avant-garde feat of écriture féminine: her speaker manages to glide through those
more exalted wisdom’ – “be-shel hokhmato ha-tova ve-ha-na‘ala yoter” – and an opportunity for a
newly realized self.” In: Hassine, Shirah u-mitos, 58-59.
This study take the approach that the golden apple has precious gifts of wisdom, and creative essence
to confer, and chooses to do so through suffusion from within the core of her beloved’s being.
69
Cixous, Ladder of Writing, 118.
70
Miri Barukh, “Ha-himashekhut la-’ohev ha-mashhit,” ‘Iyyunim be-shirat Ravikovitch, 35-46.
97
limens to fully enter the person of her beloved. There she descends to the depths in
quest for creative treasure and fertilizes her beloved from within with her own creative
essence.
At the same time we are left with the conundrum of the meaning of ‘strike’ at the root of
the word makkehu. In light of the eros of the poem and concerns of the persona in the
sphere of love, I propose the following phrase to translate the sense of makkehu: ‘the
one who smites (him/it) [her] [with love]’. To paraphrase the beginning of the fourth
stanza of the poem in this light I would offer that the figure of the golden apple is falling
deeply in love with the one who seeks to savour her. She is smitten with the one who
smites her with the ‘condition’ of love:
‫ָהב‬
ָ ‫פּוּח ז‬
ַ ‫ַתּ‬
,‫אוֹכ ֵלהוּ‬
ְ ‫אָהב ֶאת‬
ַ
71
‫אָהב ֶאת ַמ ֵכּהוּ‬
ַ
A golden apple
Loved her devourer,
Loved the one who smote her
As illustrated in Chapter Two love is experienced by the persona as a perennial source
of suffering. Worse than that, it is a potentially fatal affliction. As much as the speaker
craves love and finds euphoria in its initial phases, she is always at risk of being either
‘burned’ or ‘drowned’ by love.
The Hebrew term makka, in both its biblical and contemporary vernacular senses,
conveys an intense affliction. In the plural, the term makkot calls up biblical
reverberations of plagues. The ten plagues visited upon Egypt during the period of
Israelite enslavement serve as an example. The word is also reminiscent of the
potentially fatal afflictions, expressed as curses, in Deuteronomic admonishments to the
Israelites were they not to heed the word of the Almighty.72 A poet’s usage of the word
makka is accordingly ominous.
71
Ravikovitch, ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav,” Kol ha-shirim, 15-16.
72
In Deuteronomy 28:28, for example, the Israelites are warned that disobeying divine commandments
would lead to dire afflictions:
98
A makka in the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch is, nevertheless, somewhat mysterious in
that it is not immediately clear whether it holds a positive or negative connotation for the
speaker. There is certainly an aspect of the sudden and amazing onset of a makka that
the persona values. In Shir shel hesberim73 for example, the term makka occurs in a
bound construct – makkat sanverim. On the one hand the term carries the negative
biblical association of sanverim. Sanverim refers to the temporary affliction of blindness
with which the people of Sodom were stricken when they swarmed the doorway of Lot
and pressed him to surrender his ‘guests’ to their appetites and attentions.74 On the
other hand in Shir shel hesberim this temporary, stunning bout of blindness is triggered
by the positively astonishing flowering of the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valley.
This makka, as an affirmation of beauty and wonder, is a gift. In the Song of Songs the
same two blooms are celebrated as a metaphor. Together they are the floral self-portrait
of a lover painted in verbal hendiadys by one who declares: “I am a rose of Sharon, a
lily of the valley.”75
In Ravikovitch’s poetry these two blossoms, intertextually scented with love, have the
potential to bring about makkat sanverim:
‫יּוֹד ִעים ֶל ֱאהֹב‬
ְ ‫ָשׁים ֶשׁ‬
ִ ‫יֵשׁ ֲאנ‬
.‫ָשׁים ֶשׁזֶּה לֹא ַמ ְת ִאים ָל ֶהם‬
ִ ‫וְ יֵשׁ ֲאנ‬
‫ַשּׁ ִקים ָבּ ְרחוֹב‬
ְ ‫ָשׁים ֶשׁ ִמּ ְתנ‬
ִ ‫יֵשׁ ֲאנ‬
,‫ָעים ָל ֶהם‬
ִ ‫וְ יֵשׁ ֲא ֵח ִרים ֶשׁזֶּה לֹא נ‬
.‫וְ לֹא ַרק ָבּ ְרחוֹב‬
,‫חוֹשׁ ֶבת ֶשׁזֶּה ִכּ ְשׁרוֹן ְכּמוֹ ָכּל ַה ִכּ ְשׁרוֹנוֹת‬
ֶ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
,‫אוּלי זֶה יִ ְתרוֹן‬
ַ
‫ְכּמוֹ ֲח ַב ֶצּ ֶלת ַה ָשּׁרוֹן‬
,‫יּוֹד ַעת ִל ְפר ַֹח‬
ַ ‫ֶשׁ‬
‫ֲמ ִקים‬
ָ ‫שׁוֹשׁנָּה ָבּע‬
ַ ‫ְכּמוֹ‬
:‫ֵבב‬
ָ ‫ְת ְמהוֹן ל‬
ִ ‫וּב ִעוָּרוֹן וּב‬
ְ ‫שׁגָּעוֹן‬
ִ ‫יְַכּכָה ה' ְבּ‬
“God will strike you with madness, blindness and ‘numbness of heart’.”
73
Ravikovitch, “Shir shel hesberim,” [literally, “A Song of Explanations” or “A Litany of Excuses,”] Kol hashirim, 193-194. The title of the poem evokes a contrast to the title Song of Songs.
74
Genesis 19:11
75
Song of Songs 2:1.
99
.‫יה‬
ָ ‫בּוֹח ֶרת ְל ַע ְצ ָמהּ ֶאת ְצ ָב ֶע‬
ֶ ‫ֶשׁ‬
‫יוֹד ַע‬
ֵ ‫אַתּה‬
ָ
‫פּוֹר ִחים‬
ְ ‫ַח ַב ֶצּ ֶלת ְכּ ֶשׁ ֵהם‬
ֲ ‫שׁוֹשׁן ו‬
ָ
76
...‫ֵרים‬
ִ ‫אוֹת ָך ַבּ ַסּנְ ו‬
ְ ‫ַמ ִכּים‬
There are some people who just know how to love
And other people to whom it just doesn’t come naturally.
There are those who can kiss on the street
And others whom it just doesn’t suit,
And not just on the street.
I think it’s a talent like any other talent,
Maybe it’s an advantage,
Like a rose of Sharon
That just knows how to blossom,
Or like a lily of the valley
That chooses its own colours.
You know
A lily or a rose, when they blossom
They smite you with blindness …
In this poem, the speaker expresses admiration for people to whom love comes
naturally. She compares their innate talent for loving to the knack of the rose of Sharon
for blossoming and to the aptitude of the lily to take on colours of its choice. It is in the
same positive vein that the speaker relates the makkat sanverim brought on by their
flowering. The blossoming and striking burst of colour are portrayed as desirable. The
persona’s admiration of these phenomena conveys a positive association with the word
makka. Readers aware of the scriptural love intertextually built into the cellular
constitution of these flowers may make a mental association between makkat sanverim
and makkat ’ahava; being subjected to a positively amazing bout of temporary blindness
brought on by sudden, intense exposure to beauty is related to being smitten with love
and vice verse. It is becoming apparent that makkat ’ahava – a bout of stunning love, in
the lexicon of this poet, is a mixed blessing. In part it is an affirmation of beauty and
wonder; in part it is an arresting, repelling hindrance – an affliction.
Incidental to the discussion of makka, but pertinent to the persona’s construction of self
as an apple and predilection for high colour, the poem Shir shel hesberim concludes
76
Ravikovitch, “Shir shel hesberim,” Kol ha-shirim, 193-194.
100
with an interesting reference. The persona refers to herself as one who does not fit into
the category of people to whom loving is an inherent talent.77 Among the epithets she
employs to address herself directly, in this matter, is tapuah she-’einenu ma’adim –
“apple that does not (redden) [ripen]”:
78
.‫פּוּח ֶשׁ ֵאינֶנּוּ ַמ ְא ִדּים‬
ַ ‫ַתּ‬
It should be noted that ruddiness is a hue associated with choice gold in medieval
Hebrew poetry.79 The overlap facilitates a return to thoughts of apples which are golden.
In addition to reading this epithet as a readily accessible metaphor to connote lack of
ripeness or immaturity, it may be read as the persona expressing further regrets to
herself, about herself, on the metaphoric level. One regret pertains to not having carried
on living as intensely or as ‘colourfully’ as she had hoped. A second is for not yet having
lived up to the lofty goals she had set for herself as a golden apple.
Also incidental to the discussion of makka, yet relevant to the speaker’s admiration of
colourful lilies, is her appreciation of their purity. She mentions them in this regard in
describing the eyes of a dear friend Mickey as he recalls the glory days. Like the
persona he too feels the absence of intensity of days gone by. He too is pictured as
harbouring regrets about not having lived up to standards to which he aspired in his
youth. He was once a vital naval captain who sailed the tempestuous seas. Twenty-five
years later his morale is exceedingly low and he lacks any glimmer of joy.
77
This point of view differs from the one that comes through in the translation of Chana Bloch and Ariel
Bloch in The Window, 73. Bloch and Bloch translate the final stanza with the persona trying to
convince herself that she is not an anomaly, such as a “bird of paradise”, “a three-headed calf” or “an
apple that doesn’t ripen.” I read the stanza as the persona addressing herself with epithets, such as
“war-horse” and “apple that does not ripen” to convey that she is indeed different from people to whom
love and loving come naturally and easily.
78
Ravikovitch, “Shir shel hesberim,” Kol ha-shirim, 193-194.
79
For example, Samuel Ibn Nagrela, also known as Shemuel Hanagid, compares the tone of wine to
that of gold:
.‫ַס ְמּכוּנִ י ָבּ ֲא ִשׁישׁוֹת ְמ ֵלאוֹת ָפּז‬
Sustain me with glass flagons filled with fine gold.
Shemuel ha-nagid, in Dov Yarden, ed. Diwan Shemuel Hanagid. Vol. 2: Ben mishlei,
(Jerusalem: Hebrew Union College, 1983) 188.
101
‫ְכּ ֶשׁ ֵעינָיו ַה ְכּ ֻחלּוֹת ִמ ְת ַמ ְלּאוֹת ְדּ ָמעוֹת‬
80
[...] ‫שּׁוֹשׁנִּ ים‬
ַ ‫יוֹתר ִמ‬
ֵ ‫ֵהן זַכּוֹת‬
When his blue eyes well up with tears
They are purer than lilies […]
As beautiful as these flowers are in appearance to the persona, it is not the lilies on their
own that she adores but their qualities. Occasionally it is their purity that registers with
her, as in the description of Mickey’s lachrymose eyes. Mostly, however, it is their
sudden burst from the earth and their riotous colour.81 This thesis adds that it is their
potential to bring about the makka – the invigorating jolt for which she yearns. The
speaker pictures herself waiting aeons for this very sensation in the poem Zikkaron
tamim [A Pure Memory]82 which will be discussed further in Chapter Seven.
The oeuvre bears further support for the idea that the speaker yearns for a reinforcing,
explosive colourburst. It is highlighted in absentia in Yereq ‘alim [Greenery].83 There the
energizing charge that the speaker associates with brightness and suddenness of
flowering, such that the rose and lily can deliver, is sorely missed:
.‫ַרקוּת‬
ְ ‫תּוֹך ַהיּ‬
ְ ‫פּוֹרץ ִמ‬
ֵ ‫ֶפּ ַרח אָדֹם גָּדוֹל לֹא‬
.‫ֶפּ ַרח גָּדוֹל ַבּל יִ ָמּ ֵצא‬
‫ְשׁנַת ֶא ֶלף ְתּ ַשׁע ֵמאוֹת וְ ִת ְשׁ ִעים‬
84
.‫דוֹלים‬
ִ ‫ֵאינָהּ ְשׁנַת ַה ְפּ ָר ִחים ַה ְגּ‬
No big red blossom bursts forth from the greenery.
Not a single big flower is to be found.
1990
is definitely not the year of the big flowers.
80
Ravikovitch, “Miqi ha-yaqar,” [“Dear Mickey”] Kol ha-shirim, 142-143
81
Robert Alter, foreword, The Window: poems by Dahlia Ravikovitch, transl. Chana Bloch and Ariel
Bloch (Riverdale-on-Hudson: Sheep Meadow Press, 1989), ix.
Robert Alter notices the poet’s desire “for such sudden flowering of color and rapturous (sometimes
frightening) intensity.” He distinguishes between poems in which the poet hopes for these, and those
in which she visualizes them.
82
Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim, 161.
83
Ravikovitch, “Yereq ‘alim,” Kol ha-shirim, 301-302.
84
Loc. cit.
102
As odd as it sounds, a makka of the sort yearned for would be a welcome experience
for the speaker: its spectre, even just a trace of the colourburst craved, may be
perceived as present in the poem.85 Such a makka would deliver the desperately
needed vitality in this otherwise deadly year to which the speaker alludes. Such a
makka would produce genuine mother’s milk, not the artificial infant formula named in
Yereq ‘alim:
‫לֹא ָהיְ ָתה ִלי ָשׁנָה ָר ָעה ִמזֹּאת ְבּ ָכל יְ ֵמי ַחיַּי‬
‫ירה ַר ֲח ִמים‬
ָ ‫ַרקוּת ָה ֵע ִצים ַמ ִגּ‬
ְ ‫וְ י‬
‫ְכּמוֹ ְת ִמ ַסּת ַמ ֶט ְרנָה‬
86
.‫ֶר ִלים‬
ָ ‫וּמינ‬
ִ ‫ ַק ְל ְציוּם‬,‫אכוּתי‬
ִ
‫ֶשׁיֵּשׁ ָבּהּ ֲח ַלב ֵאם ְמ ָל‬
I’ve never had a worse year in my entire life
and the greenness of the trees
is pouring with Materna
containing artificial mother’s milk, calcium and minerals.
According to Hélène Cixous genuine mother’s milk is the productive ‘white ink’ always
present within women; and the term ‘mother’ in context refers to: “the equivoice that
affects you, fills your breast with an urge to come to language and launches your force;
the rhythm that laughs you; […] makes all metaphors possible and desirable […]”87 The
speaker, a poet herself, needs such a makka in order to thrive and in order for her fruit
— poetry — to flourish.
Implicit in Yereq ‘alim is the speaker’s desperate need for the kind of makka that
accompanies the astonishing colour-explosion of big red blossoms known to open with
85
The vitality missed in this poem, yet made present through the spectre of flowering and colourburst, is
reminiscent of ‘the force’ in the well known poem by Dylan Thomas, called: “The Force That Through
the Green Fuse Drives the Flower”. That force also marshals the speaker’s youth or “green age”,
“drives the water through the rocks” and motivates his lifeblood and libido. In: Dylan Thomas, The
Poems of Dylan Thomas, ed. Daniel Jones (New York: New Directions, 2003. revised edition.) 90.
Both Dylan Thomas and Dahlia Ravikovitch write of a vital force which waxes and wanes over the
course of a lifetime. Its presence is life affirming, stimulating and productive; its absence is lamentable
and a harbinger of inevitable decline.
86
Ravikovitch, “Yereq ‘alim,” Kol ha-shirim, 301-302.
87
Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 280.
103
surprising alacrity: a dose of vitality. Such a makka would remove her from dreariness. It
would prompt her writer’s pen to flow with ‘white ink’. Elsewhere in the poetic corpus, in
the context of the persona’s perception of waning eros, she conveys an analogously
acute craving. She aches for a torrent of eros to be delivered in a highly concentrated
titration: vanilla.88 She yearns for this essential elixir of vitality in order for her poetic
language to flow. This phenomenon will be discussed further in Chapter Four, in looking
at the centrepiece among the persona’s more advanced verbal self-portraits.
The fact that the astounding flowering of the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valley can
bring on a makkat sanverim is presented as positive. Stunning blindness blots out
misery. It distracts the persona from the distress she feels in everyday living as is
evident in poems such as Yereq ‘alim. It can jolt her out of the doldrums. At the same
time readers can hardly ignore the fact that the particular makka which the speaker
associates with the positive is loss of sight. This fact makes the makka a dual-edged
sword. On the one hand the sudden burst of vitality diverts the speaker from the
vagaries and inevitable miseries she feels so keenly in daily life. That, for her, is
positive. On the other hand sudden blindness is without question an affliction that
negatively distorts the perception of sighted individuals.
That sobering fact restores the attention of readers to a consideration of the word
makkehu in the poem ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav. What is the substance of the makka
with which makkehu – the one who smites her, affects the golden apple? I contend that
it is makkat ’ahava: the ‘smitten condition’ of love. Like makkat sanverim – the
temporary bout of stunning blindness, love is a dual-edged sword. It is both exhilarating
and blinding. In this sense makkat ’ahava is the equivalent of makkat sanverim in the
experience of the persona. Makkat ’ahava is experienced by the persona as an
invigorating burst of vitality in love’s initial phase of infatuation. It diverts her attention
from the potentially distressing reality of the world around her. While it brings the
speaker some relief, this phenomenon is worrisome to her peers. It triggers their
warnings and derision. It is impossible to overlook the fact that the initial euphoria
88
Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.
104
distorts the golden apple’s vision of the perils with which love is fraught, especially for
one so susceptible to its risks.
To be sure there are times, such as in ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav, when the golden apple
finds her way into the interior of her beloved for the union and permeation she so
strongly desires to bring about. At other times, however, as shown in Hitrosheshut
[Impoverishment]89 in Chapter Five, the persona finds herself so afflicted with love that
she can see no respite other than to engulf herself in its flames or to surround herself
with its deep waters. Such is the lot of a golden apple smitten with the one who smites
her with love.
3.3
Summary
To summarize, the concentrated language of poetry calls for encrypted motifs and
encoded images. Dahlia Ravikovitch launches her oeuvre with the golden apple, a motif
with an already celebrated reputation in global literature, and continues to encrypts it
even more densely. She does so with the abundant riches of the biblical and medieval
layers of Hebrew language and literature. She also endows the golden apple singular
independence of mind and body in matters of eros, facilitating an ability to traverse
boundaries that have commonly been considered barriers.
The poet commences the corpus with a verbal portrait of herself as a golden apple. She
encodes this figure of alterity with the gifts of eros, love, philosophy, alchemy, wisdom,
belles lettres of fine poetry, passion, prophecy and pure essence verging on the secrets
of creation. This golden apple seeks synthesized unity with the one she loves; she
seeks to infuse that being from within with her own entity and endowments. These
embrace the visual beauty of line and colour, sensory delights of fragrance and flavour,
virtue and sensual pleasure. In an extraordinary feat of écriture féminine she succeeds
at both the fusion and the suffusion.
89
Ravikovitch, “Hitrosheshut,” Kol ha-shirim, 174.
105
As boldly independent and strong as the persona may be as a golden apple, for this
delicate soul love is an affliction that smites as severely as a plague. It renders her
lovelorn and longing for relief. The next chapter looks at the natural, personal resources
upon which the speaker draws in order to contend with her ailments of love.
106
Chapter Four
Figure of Royalty and a Skilled Scribe:
Descent into Eros, Descent into Writing
4.1
Preface
The previous chapter shows that the persona of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poetry
commences the corpus with her self-portrait as a golden apple. She encodes this figure
d’altérité with the gifts of love, eros, wisdom, alchemy, the belles lettres of fine poetry,
prophecy, passion and pure essence verging on the secrets of creation. As boldly
independent and strong as the persona may be as a golden apple in love, for this
delicate soul love is a makka: an affliction that smites as severely as a plague. It
renders her lovelorn and longing for relief.
This chapter adds three elements to the body of research on the poetry of Dahlia
Ravikovitch. The first is a decryption of the figure d’altérité as a figure of royalty and a
skilled scribe in a principal self-portrait called Portret.1 This study addresses the
decryption through the detection of an intertextual duet which Ravikovitch initiates upon
a foundation of Hebrew bible and commentary. The second is an analysis of the
encoding of one of the natural resources upon which the persona draws in order to
contend with her lovelorn condition. This study approaches the analysis through the
lens of écriture féminine and its essential ‘white ink’. The third element which this
chapter contributes is an illustration of the convergence of eros and creative vitality for
the royal poet-persona, both in Portret and in the broader context of the oeuvre. This
study approaches the illustration by addressing the first two decryptions in tandem. The
convergence of creative vitality and eros is an essential key to the self constructed in
the poems: it informs the speaker’s personal version of sweet-delicacies and apples.2
1
Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.
2
Song of Songs 2:5. As noted in Chapters 2 and 3 these substances of sustenance, summoned by the
female lover at the heart of one of the love poems in the Song of Songs, are interpreted and translated
variously as flagons of wine and apples, raisin cakes and apples, and similar sweet-delicacies.
107
The nexus of these two elements presents as the substance of existential sustenance
which the persona profoundly craves in order to go on living, loving and writing.
4.2
Central Self-portrait of the Oeuvre: Portrait
Portrait [Portret] reveals the quintessential inner identity of the persona. Chapter Three
examined the encryption of the persona as a golden love apple with powers of love,
poetry, prophecy, wisdom, eros and more. This chapter begins the examination of
Portret with a brief general discussion of the construction of self through dialogue,
through the projection of another figure of alterity, and by acknowledging the presence
of a ‘trinity’ of self through the performance of bios. The analysis progresses to the
intertextual encryption of the persona as royalty and a skilled scribe. It proceeds with an
inquiry into the encoding of the substance and process which together fuel the life and
writing of this lovelorn being. It continues by identifying their convergence, both in the
poem and the oeuvre. The text of the poem is as follows:
‫פורטרט‬
.‫יתהּ‬
ָ ‫ָמים ַר ִבּים ְבּ ֵב‬
ִ ‫יוֹשׁ ֶבת י‬
ֶ ‫ִהיא‬
.‫קוֹראת ִעתּוֹנִ ים‬
ֵ ‫ִהיא‬
(?‫קוֹרא‬
ֵ ‫אַתּה לֹא‬
ָ ,‫) ַמה יֵּשׁ‬
‫רוֹצה ַלעֲשׂוֹת‬
ָ ‫עוֹשׂה ַמה ֶשּׁ ָהיְ ָתה‬
ָ ‫ִהיא ֵאינָהּ‬
.‫כּוּבים‬
ִ ‫יֵשׁ ָלהּ ִע‬
,‫ ַה ְר ֵבּה וָנִ יל‬,‫רוֹצה וָנִ יל‬
ָ ‫ִהיא‬
.‫ֵתּן ָלהּ וָנִ יל‬
‫ ַקר ָלהּ ַמ ָמּשׁ‬,‫ַבּח ֶֹרף ַקר ָלהּ‬
.‫יוֹתר ֵמ ֲא ֶשׁר ַל ֲא ֵח ִרים‬
ֵ ‫ַקר ָלהּ‬
.‫ֲדיִ ן ַקר ָלהּ‬
ַ ‫יטב ַוע‬
ֵ ‫ִהיא ִמ ְת ַל ֶבּ ֶשׁת ֵה‬
.‫רוֹצה וָנִ יל‬
ָ ‫ִהיא‬
.‫חוֹשׁב‬
ֵ ‫אַתּה‬
ָ ‫ ִאם זֶה ַמה ֶשּׁ‬,‫נוֹל ָדה ֶא ְתמוֹל‬
ְ ‫ִהיא לֹא‬
.‫זֹאת לֹא ַפּ ַעם ִראשׁוֹנָה ֶשׁ ַקּר ָלהּ‬
.‫לֹא ַפּ ַעם ִראשׁוֹנָה ח ֶֹרף‬
.‫ָעים‬
ִ ‫ְבּ ֶע ֶצם גַּם ַה ַקּיִ ץ ֵאינֶנּוּ נ‬
.‫רוֹצה‬
ֵ ‫קוֹראת ִעתּוֹנִ ים‬
ֵ ‫ִהיא‬
ָ ‫יוֹתר ִמ ַמּה ֶשּׁ ָהיְ ָתה‬
.‫ַבּח ֶֹרף ִהיא לֹא ָזזָה ְבּ ִלי ַתנּוּר‬
.‫נִ ְמאָס ָלהּ ִל ְפ ָע ִמים‬
?‫ַה ִאם ִהיא ִבּ ְק ָשׁה ִמ ְמּ ָך ַה ְר ֵבּה ְד ָב ִרים‬
108
.‫תּוֹדה ֶשׁלֹּא‬
ֶ
.‫רוֹצה וָנִ יל‬
ָ ‫ִהיא‬
.‫ יֵשׁ ָלהּ ֲח ָצ ִאית ְמ ֻשׁ ֶבּ ֶצת‬,‫ִאם ִתּ ְר ֶצה ְל ַה ִבּיט ִמ ָקּרוֹב‬
.‫אוֹה ֶבת ֲח ָצ ִאית ְמ ֻשׁ ֶבּ ֶצת ִכּי זֶה ַע ִלּיז‬
ֶ ‫ִהיא‬
.‫אַתּה ִת ְצ ַחק‬
ָ ,‫יה‬
ָ ‫ְל ַה ִבּיט ָע ֶל‬
.‫ַהכֹּל ְמג ָֹח ְך ָכּל ָכּ ְך‬
.‫צוֹח ֶקת ָלזֶה ִל ְפ ָע ִמים‬
ֶ ‫ֲא ִפלּוּ ִהיא‬
,‫ָק ֶשׁה ָלהּ ַבּח ֶֹרף וְ ַרע ָלהּ ַבּ ַקּיִ ץ‬
.‫אַתּה ִת ְצ ַחק‬
ָ
,‫ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִגּיד ִמימוֹזָה‬
,‫פּוֹרח‬
ֵ ‫עוֹף ֶשׁ ֵאינוֹ‬
.‫ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִגּיד ַה ְר ֵבּה ְד ָב ִרים‬
,‫ֶקת‬
ֶ ‫ֶחנ‬
ְ ‫ִהיא ָת ִמיד ִמ ְת ַע ֶטּ ֶפת ְבּ ַמ ֶשּׁהוּ וְ נ‬
‫ָדים‬
ִ ‫ִל ְפ ָע ִמים ֲח ָצ ִאית ְמ ֻשׁ ֶבּ ֶצת וְ עוֹד ְבּג‬
?‫ ָל ָמּה ִהיא ִמ ְת ַע ֶטּ ֶפת ְכּ ֶשׁ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ֵה ָחנֵק‬,‫ִתּ ְשׁאַל‬
.‫ַה ְדּ ָב ִרים ָה ֵא ֶלּה ְמ ֻס ָבּ ִכים‬
,‫זֶה ַהקֹּר ַבּח ֶֹרף וְ ַהחֹם ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָרז ַבּ ַקּיִ ץ‬
.‫יכים‬
ִ ‫אַף ַפּ ַעם לֹא ְכּמוֹ ֶשׁ ְצּ ִר‬
,‫וֹצה וָנִ יל‬
ָ ‫ ִהיא ר‬,‫ אַל ִתּ ְשׁ ַכּח‬,‫וְ ֶד ֶר ְך אַגַּב‬
.‫בּוֹכה‬
ָ ‫ַע ְכ ָשׁו ִהיא ֲא ִפלּוּ‬
3
.‫ֵתּן ָלהּ וָנִ יל‬
Portrait
She sits in the house for days on end.
Reading newspapers.
(Come on, don’t you?)
She doesn’t do what she’d like to do,
she’s got inhibitions.
She wants vanilla, lots of vanilla,
give her vanilla.
In winter she’s cold, really cold,
colder than other people.
She bundles up but she’s still cold.
She wants vanilla.
She wasn’t born yesterday, if that’s what you’re thinking.
It’s not the first time she’s cold.
Not the first time it’s winter.
In fact, summer isn’t so pleasant either.
She reads newspapers more than she’d like to.
3
Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.
109
In winter she won’t budge without the heater.
Sometimes she gets fed up with it all.
Has she ever asked that much of you?
Admit it: she hasn’t.
She wants vanilla.
Should you care to look closer, she’s wearing a plaid skirt.
She likes a plaid skirt because it’s cheery.
Just to look at her, you’d laugh.
It’s all so ludicrous.
Even she laughs about it on occasion.
She has a hard time in the winter,
a rough time in the summer,
you’d laugh.
One might say a mimosa,
a bird that won’t fly,
there’s plenty of things one might say.
Always bundling up in something or other
until she chokes,
on occasion a plaid skirt and other clothes.
Why bundle up if it makes her choke, you’d ask.
These things are complicated.
It’s the cold in winter, the intense heat in summer,
never what you need.
And by the way, don’t you forget, she wants vanilla.
Now she’s even crying.
Give her vanilla.4
4.3
Construction of Self: Performing Bios
In Portret, the speaker makes use of several techniques to construct her self in general,
and to perform bios, in particular. One general technique is the incorporation of the self
in a dialogue, a recognized hallmark of women’s self-writing5 and extends to the selfwriting of men who integrate relational modes. The dialogue in Portret takes place in the
present tense of the poem’s frame of reference. This practice conveys that the poem is
being performed as event now, in ‘real time’ to use the meta-language of present day
information technology. The sensation of ‘real time’, characteristic of bios in writing, is
4
Ravikovitch, “Portrait,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 124-125.
5
Eloise Bell, “Telling One’s Story,” 167-176.
110
reinforced though elements of familiar discourse such as: “Come on, don’t you?”;
matter-of-fact phrasing such as, “And by the way […]”; and prepositions of time
indicating the present moment, such as ‘now’ as in, “Now she’s even crying.”
What links these acts of speech to the phenomenon of dialogue is their purpose, which
is noted in research on women’s self-writing as being “related to the aims of ordinary
conversation” such as to relate to others.6 An illustration of this phenomenon was seen,
for example, in Ha-beged. A feature that distinguishes the dialogue of this poem is that
it is fractional, only one party is audible. The only voice heard in dramatic monologue is
that of the speaker. The masculine, singular “you” appealed to as ’atta, in direct
address, is never actually heard to respond.7
A second self-fashioning technique used by the speaker is the projection of a figure of
alterity. Chapter Two provided a scenario of a figure d’altérité – a golden apple
projected in retrospect. The mode of projection in Portret positions this technique as
bios – the written verbal correlative of performance art: that is, through writing the
speaker is performing herself – an aspect or aspects of herself – in the moment. This
performance is accomplished through use of the present tense and by having the “I”,
referring to the speaker, give a running account of what “she” is up to. The “she”, in this
case, is the projected figure of alterity.
This ‘other’, who is herself, is not cast here as cryptically as the golden apple of “’Ahavat
tapuah ha-zahav”; here she is a woman much like the speaker herself. It is as though
“she” is observed in a mirror by the speaker while the speaker verbally paints ‘her’ onto
a canvas as her own self-portrait. Allowing for the possibility that the silence of the
presumed interlocutor can mean that on some level there might not be an interlocutor
6
Bell, “Telling One’s Story,” 167-176.
7
Yizhak Laor, “Ma yesh be-Dahlia Ravikovitch she-shoveh et ha-lev?” [“What is it About Dahlia
Ravikovitch that Captivates the Heart?”] Ma‘ariv 28.7.95. Yitzhak Laor analyzes the phenomenon of
the supplication to a masculine, singular ‘you’ in a number of Ravikovitch’s poems. In noting that the
speaker often turns to the one who inflicts her woes, about her woes, Laor ponders what it is in the
poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch that captures the hearts of readers, men and women, who themselves
generate such appeals.
111
present, then the speaker could be performing a conversation with her fragmented self:
“I”, “you”, and “she”.
Either way, in allowing for this range of fragmentation, or decentering of self,
Ravikovitch’s persona is actually taking advantage of what is usually seen as a
problematic issue of referentiality in self-writing. That is, the persona is exploiting to best
advantage that to which Philippe Lejeune refers as the “tension between impossible
unity and intolerable division.”8 The same point that Norman Rockwell makes through
visual art in his 1960 Triple Self Portrait is performed verbally by Ravikovitch’s persona
in a self-portrait: that is, in this third-noted technique of self-writing the speaker is, in
essence, performing the ‘trinity’ who together make up the facets of her sometimes lessthan-unified self.
4.4
Intertextual Encryption of Self: Figure of Royalty, Skilled
Scribe
Whether the speaker occupies the two roles of “I” and “she”, or the three of “I”, “you”
and “she”, the persona is performing multiple aspects of self simultaneously and
prismatically. Literary scholars who have studied this poem over the decades have
discerned several of the prisms of self refracted through this performance of self. By
and large the consensus is that the speaker is a writer suffering the ill effects of inertia.
She is uncomfortable in every way. I articulate the phenomenon as follows: the speaker
performs her complex emotional discomfort in conflicting constraints, intense contrasts,
and profound cravings. She is perpetually too cold or too hot. She likes to wear the
same plaid skirt over and over and adds so much layering that she feels a choking
sensation. She is put off by, yet defensive about, her own practiced procrastination that
masquerades as respectable reading of newspaper after newspaper. She is stalled and
aware that she just is not getting to the things she wants to be doing. She is needy and
demanding and crying. She is in a desperate state of yearning. She appeals repeatedly
for what might be the antidote to her predicament: ‘vanilla’.
8
Lejeune, On Autobiography, 36.
112
It is the persona’s apparel that provides this reader with a clue to the encoding of the
figure d’altérité. The speaker emphasizes her clothing and idiosyncratic dressing in
general. She draws specific attention to her plaid skirt thrice overtly, not to mention
coyly, in inviting the “you” to get a close up look at it, simultaneously dismissing the
garment as silly:
.‫ יֵשׁ ָלהּ ֲח ָצ ִאית ְמ ֻשׁ ֶבּ ֶצת‬,‫ִאם ִתּ ְר ֶצה ְל ַה ִבּיט ִמ ָקּרוֹב‬
.‫אוֹה ֶבת ֲח ָצ ִאית ְמ ֻשׁ ֶבּ ֶצת ִכּי זֶה ַע ִלּיז‬
ֶ ‫ִהיא‬
.‫אַתּה ִת ְצ ַחק‬
ָ ,‫יה‬
ָ ‫ְל ַה ִבּיט ָע ֶל‬
.‫ַהכֹּל ְמג ָֹח ְך ָכּל ָכּ ְך‬
.‫צוֹח ֶקת ָלזֶה ִל ְפ ָע ִמים‬
ֶ ‫ֲא ִפלּוּ ִהיא‬
[…]
,‫ֶקת‬
ֶ ‫ֶחנ‬
ְ ‫ִהיא ָת ִמיד ִמ ְת ַע ֶטּ ֶפת ְבּ ַמ ֶשּׁהוּ וְ נ‬
‫ָדים‬
ִ ‫ִל ְפ ָע ִמים ֲח ָצ ִאית ְמ ֻשׁ ֶבּ ֶצת וְ עוֹד ְבּג‬
Should you care to look closer, she’s wearing a plaid skirt.
She likes a plaid skirt because it’s cheery.
Just to look at her, you’d laugh.
It’s all so ludicrous.
Even she laughs about it on occasion.
[…]
Always bundling up in something or other
until she chokes,
on occasion a plaid skirt and other clothes.
Garb that is ‘mishubetzet’ is familiar to seasoned readers of classical Jewish texts. In
biblical texts the Hebrew word ‘mishubetzet’ refers to a patterned weave, as in ‘inlaid’
with a woven pattern such as squares;9 it also refers to ‘inlaid’ with gold sockets for
gems and pearls;10 it can also connote quilted11 in some opinions. The tunic of the high
9
“Meshubatz,” Even-shoshan: ha-milon he-hadash,ha-mahadura ha-meshulevet, 2000 (9 volume
edition) Vol. 9, 3130.
10
Exodus 28:4 outlines the garb of the high priest and refers to the tunic as ketonet tashbetz.
Rashi explains the tunic as ornamented with indented gold adornments (castons in Old French) in
which precious stones and pearls could be inlaid.
11
M. Rosenbaum and A.M. Silberman eds., Pentateuch with Targum Onkelos, Haftaroth, and Rashi’s
Commentary: Exodus, transl. M. Rosenbaum and A.M. Silberman (New York: Hebrew Publishing
Company, 1935), 28:4, 152. Henceforth: Transl. M. Rosenbaum and A.M. Silberman, Pentateuch.
113
priest, for example, was to be adorned in this manner.12 More to the point for this poem
is an echo of Psalms 45 that Ravikovitch sounds:
‫ימה‬
ָ ִ‫בוּדּה ַבת ֶמ ֶל ְך ְפּנ‬
ָ ‫ָכּל ְכּ‬
:‫בוּשׁהּ‬
ָ ‫ָהב ְל‬
ָ ‫ִמ ִמּ ְשׁ ְבּצוֹת ז‬
13
... ‫תּוּבל ַל ֶמּ ֶל ְך‬
ַ ‫ִל ְר ָקמוֹת‬
The king’s daughter is all glorious within:
her clothing is woven with gold.
She shall be brought to the king with embroidered garments […]14
In this case the persona’s patterned garb is not simply a favourite chequered skirt
reserved for lounging at home. It is clothing fit for royalty. Ravikovitch uses biblical
allusion in this poem to encrypt the speaker as a bat-melekh – a princess. In the mind of
the persona, her deceased father has been magnified to monarchy; she is therefore
royalty.
There are several poems in Ravikovitch’s early work in which the speaker applies the
phenomenon of monarchy to her deceased father and herself. In the following excerpt
of ’Eretz mevo ha-shemesh15 [The Land of the Setting Sun] for example, the speaker
tells of a mythical land where kings of unparalleled stature resided:
‫ ְבּ ֶא ֶרץ ְמבוֹא ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ‬,‫ ִמ ֶקּ ֶדם‬:‫וְ עוֹד ֻהגַּד ִלי‬
‫ָהיוּ ַמ ְל ֵכי ֶא ֶרץ‬
.‫ֲא ֶשׁר ֵאין שֹׁ ֶוה ִבּ ְגאוֹנָם‬
‫יע ֶאל ֶא ֶרץ ְמבוֹא ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ‬
ַ ‫אַגּ‬
ִ ‫ ִאם‬:‫ָוא ַֹמר ְבּ ִל ִבּי‬
ַ‫י‬
‫ֻתּן ִלי ִכּ ֵסּא ֶמ ֶל ְך‬
16
.‫ָמן‬
ָ ‫אַרגּ‬
ְ ‫וְ גַם ַשׂ ְל ַמת‬
There were magnificent kings, rulers unequalled in excellence, so I was told,
Ruled the land of the setting sun
In the days of old.
12
Exodus 28:4.
13
Psalms 45:14-15.
14
Psalms 45:14-15.
15
Ravikovitch, “’Eretz mevo ha-shemesh,” Kol ha-shirim, 25-26.
16
Loc. cit.
114
And I said to myself: If I come to the land of the setting sun
I shall be given a robe of purple,
A throne of gold.17
In pondering her own possible arrival in The Land of the Setting Sun, the speaker
relates having been told that she would be welcomed with a throne and a scarlet robe of
royalty. In this way she suggests that her father had been among the glorious kings who
dwelled there and projects her own royal status. In Portret as well we have begun to see
that the persona paints her self-portrait as a princess. The medium she employs as
brushstrokes in Portret is intertextuality, which she boosts to new heights.
Ravikovitch is renowned for crafting her poetry with reverberations of Hebrew
Scriptures. Here, as in much of her poetry, she goes beyond isolated allusion to multiple
allusions to several elements of a single text. She thus raises the literary activity
between her poem and the given source to the plane of intertextual engagement.
In the process of tracing the fibres of the poem’s intertextual engagements, this study
will consider several fine points which contour the nature and loci of intertextuality.
These points will be considered in an effort to promote breadth in recognition of
intertexts and intertextuality for enriched readings of the poem. According to some
thinkers, the writer and by extension the text is the locus of intertextual authority
whether or not readers notice the multiple allusions; according to other thinkers,
intertextuality is the domain of readers who exert themselves to facilitate a conversation
between perceived intertexts and the source at hand, whether outside texts or cultural
icons. They thus enrich their reading. Harry Fox writes: “Intertextuality properly defined
is a kind of literary allusion to material which is otherwise hidden from immediate view
but whose recovery adds to the richness of the texture of the text.”18
17
Translation partially based on Ravikovitch, “The Land of the Setting Sun,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld,
Hovering, 57-58.
18
Harry Fox, “Introducing Tosefta: Textual, Intratextual, and Intertextual Studies,” in Introducing Tosefta:
Textual, Intratextual, and Intertextual Studies, eds. Harry Fox (LeBeit Yoreh) and Tirzah Meacham
(LeBeit Yoreh) (New Jersey: Ktav, 1999) 29. Henceforth: Fox, “Introducing Tosefta.”
115
Fox refines a differentiation between allusion and intertextuality projecting the latter as a
larger, farther reaching phenomenon. As an example, he classifies the repeated
deliberate misquotation of a line of a poem by S. Shalom in the novel Shira by S.Y.
Agnon as a phenomenon beyond the expected paraphrase or quotation that fuels
allusion. He demonstrates that the content and duality prominent in the whole of S.
Shalom’s poem enhance a crucial duality played out repeatedly in the novel.19
Fox’s language reflects the view that intertextuality is a type of literary reference whose
scope and influence exceeds that of allusion in that it involves the interplay of a full text
outside the one being considered, with the entire transcript of the outside text being
taken into account, even though only a portion of it may be quoted. The locus of the
intertextuality in this state of affairs is between the two texts. The effect is an
exponential and reverberating enrichment of the text at hand.
In the space of intertextuality Ravikovitch frequently writes the equivalent of an operatic
score for a duet to be sung back and forth, on several counts, between two or more
texts. T. Carmi notes both the intertextual and intralinguistic consequences of this
practice, particularly as it pertains to recourse to heritage texts such as the Hebrew
bible:
Whether the poet wills it or not, there is often an element of counterpoint
in Hebrew poetry. However colloquial the rhythms and even the diction, it
is heard by the alert reader against the background of biblical poetry and of
an uninterrupted poetic tradition. And some of the finest effects of modern
Hebrew poetry still result from the tension between everyday speech and
the undertones and overtones of a shared heritage.20
As to Ravikovitch, the opus is sophisticated in its aspect of counterpoint as it gains
dynamically from more than a single liaison with the external source to which any given
poem multiply alludes. The case of the royal princess of Portret is no exception. Her
persona interfaces with additional elements in Psalms 45. The most salient by far, in my
19
Fox, “Introducing Tosefta,” 32-34.
20
T. Carmi, introduction, The Penguin Book of Hebrew Verse (Middlesex, Victoria, New York, and
Markham: Penguin, 1981. Paperback edition reprinted 1982) 47-48.
116
estimation, is the declaration of the singer of the Psalms in the second verse. Here the
chanteuse identifies herself as a skilled scribe whose raison d’être is to chant belles
lettres for the king, presumably those she herself pens:
:‫סוֹפר ָמ ִהיר‬
ֵ ‫ֲשׂי ְל ֶמ ֶל ְך ְלשׁוֹנִ י ֵעט‬
ַ ‫ָר ַחשׁ ִל ִבּי ָדּ ָבר טוֹב א ֵֹמר אָנִ י ַמע‬
21
My heart is astir with gracious words; I relate my verses for the king:
I speak my poem to a king;
my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.22
The commentator Rabbi David Qimhi, (Radaq 1160-1235, Provence) adopts “my
tongue is a pen of a skilled scribe” as a lemma and comments as follows:
‫ כלומר‬,‫סוֹפר ָמ ִהיר‬
ֵ ‫שׁוֹני ֵעט‬
ִ ‫ְל‬
‫לשוני מדברת עליו במהירות כמו עט סופר מהיר‬
23
:‫ כן אומר אני דברים אלה על המלך‬,‫שכותב בלא עיכוב‬
My tongue is a pen of a skilled scribe, that is to say
my tongue speaks of him with speed as a pen of a skilled scribe
who writes without hindrance, so say I these words of the king.
The iteration of Radaq is a source of support for the idea that the speaker of Portret
longs to get beyond her ‘obstacles’ in order to do what she as a princess should
properly do. She wishes to ‘write without obstacle’ and then ‘say’ or sing ‘these words’
before her father the king.
Radaq uses the term ‘ikkuv to connote ‘delay’, ‘obstacle’ or ‘impediment’. Ravikovitch,
whose knowledge of Hebrew encompasses familiarity with a range of contextual
commentaries as well as homiletic midrash arising from the text, has gleaned the
literary influence and the chosen analytic yield of the word. She incorporates it in the
plural in her poem:
21
Psalms 45:2.
22
JPS Tanakh, Psalms 45:2.
23
See Radaq on Psalms 45:2.
117
‫רוֹצה ַלעֲשׂוֹת‬
ָ ‫עוֹשׂה ַמה ֶשּׁ ָהיְ ָתה‬
ָ ‫ִהיא ֵאינָהּ‬
.‫כּוּבים‬
ִ ‫יֵשׁ ָלהּ ִע‬
She doesn’t do what she’d like to do,
she’s got inhibitions.
This is precisely the problem of the persona. She is suffering from a host of ‘delays’,
‘inhibitions’ or ‘obstacles’, among them the paralysis of writer’s block. A Radaqian
resolution to the problem would rehabilitate her writing, her chanting and reinstate her
status as royal princess-scribe and chanteuse for the king.
As we see, one intertextual fragment of Psalms 45:14 bonds with another in Psalms
45:2, and yet another. The third in this case is a commentary on Psalms 45:2. The
progression of the bonding is subtle to detect and its impact is greater than the sum of
its component parts. Relative to this concept is Graham Allen’s characterization of
numerous attempted definitions of intertextuality. He effects the characterization by
borrowing an apt turn of phrase from the American literary critic Harold Bloom:
“overdetermined in meaning, and underdetermined in figuration.”24
Such is the case of the figuration of the persona in this poem. In terms of being
“underdetermined in figuration” there is a barely visible loop to grasp in the weave of the
chequered skirt, nevertheless the eye is drawn toward it repeatedly. Once the eye sees
the loop it cannot un-see it, and sets a cognitive sequence of intertextual determination
in motion:
This term indeed refers to an operation of the
reader’s mind, but it is an obligatory one, necessary to any textual
decoding. Intertextuality necessarily complements our experience of
textuality. It is the perception that our reading of the text cannot be
complete or satisfactory without going through the intertext […]25
24
Harold Bloom is quoted by Graham Allen in: Graham Allen, Intertextuality (London and New York:
Routledge, 2000) 119.
25
Michael Riffaterre, “Intertextual Representation: On Mimesis as Interpretive Discourse,” Critical Inquiry
11.1 (1984) 142. Henceforth: Riffaterre, “Intertextual Representation.”
118
Riffaterre, whose comments above reveal his position that intertextuality involves a
cerebral course of action on the part of the reader, defines intertext as follows:
An intertext is a corpus of texts, textual fragments,
or textlike segments of the sociolect that shares a lexicon and, to a lesser
extent, a syntax with the text we are reading (directly or indirectly) in the
form of synonyms or, even conversely, in the form of antonyms.26
Riffaterre’s definition subtly suggests that the scope of the intertextual process is as
wide or as narrow as each reader’s cache of intertexts and breadth of familiarity with
relevant sociolect. In turn this idea suggests that even if the locus of intertextuality
ripples between two texts, the reader’s cerebral processing in assignation of intertexts is
the factor that will determine the depth and treasure of the literary reverberations
enriching the text at hand.
Through the identification and consideration of the reverberation of direct and inverse
bodies of intertext, the verbal self-portrait is now clearer to this reader. The persona’s
garb identifies her through biblical allusion as royalty. Further intertextual elements
identify her as a skilled scribe – a royal composer of song. She is therefore intertextually
identifiable as a royal composer and chanteuse of belles lettres for royalty, one who
suffers from ‘ikkuvim – unnamed delays and issues to which writers refer with dread as
‘writer’s block’.
I return now to extend the process of highlighting intertextuality between Portret and an
identified scriptural source: “The king’s daughter is all glorious within …”27 The word
penima – literally ‘inward’ or ‘within’ – resonates thematically, if not linguistically in
relation to the poem. The term penima relates to the persona’s proclivity to seclude
herself indoors and retreat within herself for days at a stretch to read or write. In the
context of Portret the persona’s honour and respectability – kevudah – arising from her
accomplished writing and her creativity are currently locked within her. She in turn seals
herself in. Readers might imagine a fairytale princess locked away from public view
26
Riffaterre, “Intertextual Representation,” 142.
27
Koren Bible, Psalms 45:14-15.
119
inside the turret of a castle. Her isolation can be depressing and debilitating until such
time as she discovers ways to amuse herself productively28 such as passing through the
secret doorways of fairy tales and verdant avenues for ‘wearing out slippers’.29 The
persona of Portret is confined within her home, within her clothing, within her body and
within her soul until such time as the delays and obstacles can be cleared from the path
of her productive creativity.
Portret is the intertextually encrypted verbal self-portrait of a royal princess who is an
accomplished poet, aching to produce beautiful verse to chant for her father the king.30
Unfortunately her font of ink is not currently flowing due to the internal malaise she is
experiencing.
4.5
Performance of a Self with Malaise: Contrasts, Constraints
and Cravings
The internal malaise of the royal poet-scribe refuses to remain inward for long. In the
face of her writer’s block, she exhibits the outward manifestations of her angst. She
displays it as physical discomfort through intense extremes of body temperature:
‫ ַקר ָלהּ ַמ ָמּשׁ‬,‫ַבּח ֶֹרף ַקר ָלהּ‬
.‫יוֹתר ֵמ ֲא ֶשׁר ַל ֲא ֵח ִרים‬
ֵ ‫ַקר ָלהּ‬
.‫ֲדיִ ן ַקר ָלהּ‬
ַ ‫יטב ַוע‬
ֵ ‫ִהיא ִמ ְת ַל ֶבּ ֶשׁת ֵה‬
[...]
28
Barukh, ‘Iyyunim be-shirat Ravikovitch, 53-54.
Miri Barukh suggests that an aversion to reality confines the persona to the interior of her house, often
to her room, where she can then use her imagination to write of an alternative reality.
29
Cixous, Ladder of Writing, 64-65. For full references regarding secret doorways, wearing out shoes,
writing poetry and jouissance see Chapter 3, Note 17.
30
As indicated through the source in Psalms 45, this biblical allusion casts the persona as a princess
and scribe, the daughter of a king before whom she recites her refined verse. Correspondingly there
are indications in the early poems of the oeuvre that Ravikovitch’s persona, deeply affected by her
father’s death, tends to preserve the deceased parent in a state of perpetual existence (‘Amud hatikhon, Kol ha-shirim,17-18; Taryag mitzvot ve-’ahat, Kol ha-shirim, 21-22) as a larger-than-life figure,
akin to a king or messiah (Da‘at le-navon naqel, Kol ha-shirim, 19-20; Matenot melakhim, Kol hashirim, 31-32).
Miri Barukh, “Nose’ ha-mavet bitefisotav ha-shonot,” ‘Iyyunim be-shirat Ravikovitch, 56-73. Miri Barukh
examines the ways in which the persona relates to her father figure and his death very personally in
the naïve voice of a young girl, and as a mature woman exploring broader issues of death.
120
.‫זֹאת לֹא ַפּ ַעם ִראשׁוֹנָה ֶשׁ ַקּר ָלהּ‬
.‫לֹא ַפּ ַעם ִראשׁוֹנָה ח ֶֹרף‬
.‫ָעים‬
ִ ‫ְבּ ֶע ֶצם גַּם ַה ַקּיִ ץ ֵאינֶנּוּ נ‬
[…]
.‫ַבּח ֶֹרף ִהיא לֹא ָזזָה ְבּ ִלי ַתנּוּר‬
[...]
,‫ָק ֶשׁה ָלהּ ַבּח ֶֹרף וְ ַרע ָלהּ ַבּ ַקּיִ ץ‬
[...]
,‫זֶה ַהקֹּר ַבּח ֶֹרף וְ ַהחֹם ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָרז ַבּ ַקּיִ ץ‬
31
.‫יכים‬
ִ ‫אַף ַפּ ַעם לֹא ְכּמוֹ ֶשׁ ְצּ ִר‬
In winter she’s cold, really cold,
colder than other people.
She bundles up but she’s still cold.
[..]
It’s not the first time she’s cold.
Not the first time it’s winter.
In fact, summer isn’t so pleasant either.
[…]
In winter she won’t budge without the heater.
[…]
She has a hard time in the winter,
a rough time in the summer,
[...]
It’s the cold in winter, the exaggerated heat in summer,
never what you need.
She acts out the anxiety in the constraints of a choking sensation in her throat:
,‫ֶקת‬
ֶ ‫ֶחנ‬
ְ ‫ִהיא ָת ִמיד ִמ ְת ַע ֶטּ ֶפת ְבּ ַמ ֶשּׁהוּ וְ נ‬
‫ָדים‬
ִ ‫ִל ְפ ָע ִמים ֲח ָצ ִאית ְמ ֻשׁ ֶבּ ֶצת וְ עוֹד ְבּג‬
?‫ ָל ָמּה ִהיא ִמ ְת ַע ֶטּ ֶפת ְכּ ֶשׁ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ֵה ָחנֵק‬,‫ִתּ ְשׁאַל‬
.‫ַה ְדּ ָב ִרים ָה ֵא ֶלּה ְמ ֻס ָבּ ִכים‬
Always bundling up in something or other
until she chokes,
on occasion a plaid skirt and other clothes.
Why bundle up if it makes her choke, you’d ask.
These things are complicated.
31
Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.
121
She performs her malaise throughout by means of a pronounced craving for vanilla and
repeated appeals for it to be purveyed on demand:
,‫ ַה ְר ֵבּה וָנִ יל‬,‫רוֹצה וָנִ יל‬
ָ ‫ִהיא‬
.‫ֵתּן ָלהּ וָנִ יל‬
[...]
.‫רוֹצה וָנִ יל‬
ָ ‫ִהיא‬
[...]
.‫רוֹצה וָנִ יל‬
ָ ‫ִהיא‬
[...]
,‫רוֹצה וָנִ יל‬
ָ ‫ ִהיא‬,‫ אַל ִתּ ְשׁ ַכּח‬,‫וְ ֶד ֶר ְך אַגַּב‬
.‫בּוֹכה‬
ָ ‫ַע ְכ ָשׁו ִהיא ֲא ִפלּוּ‬
32
.‫ֵתּן ָלהּ וָנִ יל‬
She wants vanilla, lots of vanilla,
give her vanilla.
[…]
She wants vanilla.
[…]
She wants vanilla.
[…]
And by the way, don’t you forget, she wants vanilla.
Now she’s even crying.
Give her vanilla.
She is overwhelmed and acting out her desperation to fill an inner void. Chocolate will
not do. Chips will not suffice. Forget the ‘Araq liqueur. She wants vanilla. Readers are
aware that, at surface level, vanilla might not do either. The persona is harbouring a
cavernous internal void that requires intense emotional attention, not calories.
This awareness, brought on by the speaker’s temperature contrasts, constricted throat,
writing constraints and craving for flavour leads to a deeper examination of the poem’s
renowned motif of ‘vanilla’. It will be approached through the lens of écriture féminine in
32
Loc. cit.
122
order to identify the natural resource sought by the speaker for relief for her lovelorn
self. The result is a contribution to the body of research on the poem in the form of a
new interpretation of ‘vanilla’ as substance of sustenance at a juncture of eros and
creative vitality.
4.6
(i)
Vanilla Unveiled
The ‘White Ink’ of Écriture Féminine
Literary scholars have suggested an assortment of interpretations for this powerfullycraved substance. Its identification is imperative for a poem in which ‘vanilla’ figures as
a crucial symbol in all four Hebrew stanzas and whose structure it significantly informs.
The first and last stanzas of Portret bear two parallels. One is a casual sounding
statement made by the speaker in focalization of her entity as “she”: “She wants
vanilla.” In the first stanza the assertion is qualified with quantity: “lots of vanilla”; in the
final stanza, it is introduced with two unconvincingly off-hand expressions: “And by the
way” coupled with “and don’t you forget …” The second commonality is that both the
first and last stanzas end with a demand whose tone and form counteract the feigned
nonchalance: “Give her vanilla.” It probably required great self-control on the part of the
poet to refrain from concluding these stanzas with exclamation marks. The urgency
seeps through despite the attempt at restraint.
The middle two stanzas also end in the casual-sounding declaration, “She wants
vanilla.” The repetition causes its content to escalate from a casual announcement to a
more urgent alert.
Among the academics who propose to decode ‘vanilla’ is Juliette Hassine. She
identifies it botanically as Lythrum Salicaria, a plant she reports as hermaphroditic.33
She underscores the botanical context by linking it to the mention of a mimosa in the
33
Hassine, Shira u-mitos, 114. It is unclear why Hassine departed from the vanilla known botanically as
Vanilla planifolia of the climbing orchid family (C.T. Onions, ed. Oxford Universal Dictionary, third ed.
Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1955, 2334). The orchid family is gynandrous in structure (Oxford Universal
Dictionary, 1381, 848), and yield a sweet nectar and fragrance (Oxford Universal Dictionary, 2334),
making them a suitable object of the craving in the poem and, I would suggest, for Hassine’s thesis.
123
fourth stanza. It too is a plant of hermaphroditic standing. As such neither is susceptible
to binary dialectics, among them masculine-feminine tensions, from which Hassine
asserts the persona wishes to be free.34 ‘Vanilla’ in this line of thinking is a wholly selfsufficient organism. Taken orally it is bound to assuage the persona’s needs and
tensions.
Ayelet Lesly attends to the flavour of vanilla as a euphemism for eros.35 She points out
its symbolism in Shunra, the first of a pair of poems carrying sexual currents and
involving a character who bears an Aramaic feline name.36 In the first poem, welltravelled, cosmopolitan Shunra is compared visually to a pink and white vanilla
confection. She is found beguiling by an unidentified observer:
;‫ֻדּה ְכּעוּגַת ַמ ֲא ָכל‬
ָ ‫שׁוּנְ ָרה ָהיְ ָתה ְל ָבנָה וּוְ ר‬
[…]
.‫ישׁהוּ ִח ָכּה ָלהּ‬
ֶ ‫וּמ‬
ִ ‫ִהיא נִ ְגּ ָשׁה ַל ַחלּוֹן‬
.‫הוּא ָק ָרא ִמ ְכ ָתּב ֲא ָבל ִהיא ִבּ ְל ְבּ ָלה ֶאת ַדּ ְעתּוֹ‬
.‫אוֹתהּ ְכּעוּגַת ַמ ֲא ָכל‬
ָ ‫אָז ִהנִּ יחוֹ וְ נִ ֵשּׁק‬
‫זֶה ָהיָה ַבּבּ ֶֹקר ְבּ ָשׁ ָעה ְמ ֻא ֶח ֶרת‬
.‫ ָכּל ַהיּוֹם‬,‫וְ הוּא ִמ ְצ ֵמץ ִבּ ְשׂ ָפ ָתיו ָכּל ַהיּוֹם‬
37
.‫קת עוּגַת וָנִ יל‬
ֶ ‫יה וְ ָהיְ ָתה ְמ ַל ֶקּ‬
ָ ‫יחה ַמ ִפּית ַעל ִבּ ְר ֶכּ‬
ָ ִ‫שׁוּנְ ָרה ִהנּ‬
Shunra was pink and white as a delectable cake.
[…]
She drew near the window where someone awaited her.
He was reading a letter but she addled his brain.
He set down the letter and kissed her like a delectable cake.
All this came to pass rather late in the morning.
And he kept smacking his lips all day long.
Shunra spread a napkin on her lap and licked away at vanilla cake.38
34
Hassine, Shira u-mitos, 113-115. Hassine’s book explores, inter alia, the Apollonian and Dionysian
aspects of Ravikovitch’s poetry. She contends that the speaker of the poems wishes to break free of
cut and dried dialectics inherent in confining binary relations such as masculine-feminine, hot-cold,
summer-winter and so forth. Hassine positions the attainment of the scent of ‘vanilla’ as a symbolic
attempt to overcome the tensions that such binaries can entail.
35
Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros,” 116.
36
Ravikovitch, “Shunra” and “Shunra Bet,” Kol ha-shirim, 111 and 112.
37
Ravikovitch, “Shunra,” Kol ha-shirim, 111.
38
Ravikovitch, “Shunra,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 107.
124
The admirer relates orally to Shunra as though she were an enticing vanilla petit four –
to offer a facsimile of the linguistic register of the poem. A late morning rendezvous
leaves each lapping up lingering ‘vanilla’ the rest of the day. We can see an intertextual
connection between Shunra’s activities following her rendezvous and those of the
woman described in Proverbs 30:20: “[…] the way of an adulterous woman: she eats,
and wipes her mouth and says, ‘I have done nothing wrong.’”39
Lesly expands asserting that Shunra is not fulfilled erotically during this encounter,
hence the character’s derivation of comfort and self-gratification expressed through the
symbolic oral intake of ‘vanilla’.40 What unites all attempts to decode this motif is the
certainty that ‘vanilla’ is a symbolic substance.
Viewed through the lens of écriture féminine, ‘vanilla’ is an innovative motif on the part
of Ravikovitch’s speaker. The persona of Ravikovitch’s pen experiences profound
cravings for the desirable distillate. She yearns for this elixir to flow as freely as the
‘white ink’ which Hélène Cixous associates with mother’s milk: “a / woman is never far
from “mother” […] There is always within her at least a little of that good mother’s milk.
She writes in white ink.”41
In the context of writing in ‘white ink’, Cixous writes of ‘mother’ metaphorically as the
catalyst for language as follows:
the equivoice that affects you, fills your breast with an urge to come to
language and launches / your force; the rhythm that laughs you; […]
makes all metaphors possible and / desirable […] that part of you that
leaves a space between yourself and urges you to inscribe in language
your woman’s style.42
39
Koren Bible, Proverbs 30:20.
40
Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros,” 116.
41
Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 280.
42
Loc. cit.
125
Concisely, Ravikovitch’s persona craves the ‘vanilla’ of creative inspirational energy to
launch the polished language of her poetry writing and to inscribe her unique self.
Vanilla is the ‘white ink’ of écriture féminine.
(ii)
The Dual Stream of Life-conferring ‘White Ink’
In looking at Portret in the framework of parable and as a variation of an identified
pastime of disguises and masquerading commencing in ancient days, Mordecai Shalev
makes inroads in identifying the persona’s vanilla craving. He does so through an
analysis of the speaker’s purpose in drawing attention to her clothing. Shalev first
analyzed this poem in a newspaper article in the 1960s.43 He designates the speaker’s
invitation to her listener to ‘zoom in’ for a close-up of her laughable plaid skirt as
unabashedly sexual.44 It is a declaration of the persona’s urgent need for eros, sexually
defined. To his mind she is practically pointing a stage-direction arrow inward and
upward from her hem. Shalev thus offers confirmation of the speaker’s need for vanilla
as her impulse for eros.
Shalev likens the speaker’s dressing-up to the deliberate costuming on the part of
biblical Tamar in order to draw the sexual attentions of her father-in-law Judah.45 He
likens the speaker’s choice to remain secluded in the homestead to that of Tamar as
she engineers a scenario to address a missed opportunity: she had been expecting a
levirate marriage to a young son of Judah, with all of the attendant legal and material
rights, recognition and support. Shalev likens the speaker’s need for eros to Tamar’s
need, in the circumstances, for Judah’s seed.
In addition to acknowledging the vanilla substance as semen, Shalev, like Cixous,
congruently links vanilla to mother’s milk but with a difference of emphasis. Whereas
Cixous accentuates the nuances of mother’s milk as catalyst for each woman’s unique
43
Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” Ha-’aretz: tarbut ve-sifrut, 2.4.69. and 13.6.69.
44
Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” [Part 6].
45
Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” [Part 5].
126
language of self-expression, Shalev underscores the oral erotic facets of the vanilla
craving:
Vanilla is the legal heir to two basic oral substances: the classic oral
substance is [mother’s] milk. Vanilla represents the milk with which it is
for the most part tied […] In a more mature feminine understanding,
however, which remains connected […] with regressive tendencies to the
oral traces of love[making], vanilla is semen whose intake is conceived of
as suckling in the overall oral view of love.46
In building upon the concepts of Cixous and Shalev, I would add that both mother’s milk
and semen may be construed as streams of life-conferring white ink. Ravikovitch’s
speaker craves this life-giving profusion as substance of sustenance to fuel both her
erotic sense of self and to enrich the fertile creativity of her poetry writing. Either or both
would assuage her existential malaise and revive her innovative resources. Either or
both would shatter the fetters of the writer’s block that plagues the persona in Portret.
Unveiling vanilla thus reveals the speaker’s personal version of ‘sweet-delicacies and
apples’ for both erotic and creative vitality.
The motif of vanilla in the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch is emblematic of the persona’s
inscription of her voice, “her self and her ‘body’ in its abundance and multiplicity.”47 In
considering the prismatic wealth and diversity that characterizes feminine writing,
Cixous is struck by “the infinite richness of […] individual constitutions”, and remarks
that “Women’s imaginary is inexhaustible, like music, painting, writing: their stream of
phantasms is incredible.”48 The dual stream of life-conferring white ink, among
Ravikovitch’s phantasms, is an extraordinary exemplar.
I note that the dual titration inherent in the persona’s craving of vanilla is a clue to a
larger pattern in the poetry: that is, beyond Portret there exists a critical nexus of the
functions of eros and artistry for the persona. As we shall see the overlap is borne out in
the broader context of the oeuvre and developed in portraits of the persona’s throat.
46
Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” [Segment 6].
47
Calarco and Atterton, “Hélène Cixous,” 274-275.
48
Cixous, “The Laugh of the Medusa,” 276.
127
4.7
(i)
Natural Resources of a Lovelorn Poet-persona
Eros and the Writing Process
In the wake of the vanilla craved this segment of the thesis considers two natural,
personal resources upon which the speaker draws in order to contend with her lovelorn
self. One is eros, sexually defined. Her artistry in poetic composition is another. The
unique nature of the persona’s experience of eros has been generally recognized as
involving descent and an intoxication of senses.49 I shall sharpen the focus of that
general observation with some rather specific details unique to the persona’s erotic
episodes. I also note that the persona identifies her familiar entrée into the poetry
writing process similarly: it too is accompanied by a heightening of sensory perception
and a sensation of descent.
The discernment of parallel features of the two processes – sensory intoxication and a
trend of vertical descent, as well as the detection of an equivalency in their function as
resources, permits me to add an element to the understanding of the persona’s
construction of self. Just as the persona draws on eros to tend to her lovelorn being, so
she depends on immersion in her artistic writing process to tend to her general
existential malaise which is due, in the first place, to her lifelong experience of love in all
the wrong proportions. The contours of the concept being advanced are outlined below
with germane excerpts from the poetic corpus.
(ii)
Descent into Eros and Intoxication of Senses
In broad brushstrokes Ravikovitch’s poems conveying the experience of eros carry both
direct and indirect expressions of love and desire as well as a steady reliance on
descriptions of nature, natural motifs, and their colours to express erotic passion and
longing. These include streams of water and light as well as the speaker’s urge to
envelop herself in their flow. The predominant palette bears yellow, green and blue and
discloses an enchantment with gold in a variety of transformative states. The motifs of
49
Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros,” 112.
128
eros include birds and flight, lithe felines and an abundance of flora ranging from
treetops and bushes to seaweed and water lilies.
Many of the persona’s experiences of eros are communicated as a sensation of sinking
into a cloud or descent in watery depths.50 To focus the general impression I shall refine
it with specific details that are unique to these occurrences for the persona. A number of
the more transparent expressions of eros involve sinking comfortably, descending fullycushioned, or settling into a body of water, water vapour or other accommodating
organic surface or matter; the experience is often accompanied with an expression of
insouciant sensation that spreads throughout the body’s limbs and organs as ‘ednat
’eivarim or hedvat ’eivarim – ‘gentle, youthful, joyful bodily pleasure’ – in a word,
jouissance.51 The following excerpts of four separate poems serve as examples:
50
In some contexts, sinking into watery depths suggests a return to the amniotic fluid of the womb
(Sigmund Freud, “Representation by Symbols in Dreams,” The Interpretation of Dreams, James
Strachey trans., Toronto, New York, London and Auckland, 1976, Vol. 4, 524-527) or an expression of
perdition (Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros,” 112-113).
This chapter of the thesis, however, takes the following direction. It proceeds to show that in the work
of Dahlia Ravikovitch, settling into water, water vapour, or other organic matter is a function of a
particular sensory experience that accompanies the poet’s experience of eros: both poetic creativity
and sexual jouissance. For her, the factors of vertical descent and an intoxication of senses presage
each. For her, each is a full-body experience. For her, each is essential to her poetry. I see these as
expressions of volition, rather than perdition, on the part of the poet. By contrat, Chapter Five shows
the analysis of a poem that pictures shipwreck on the high seas as a motif of perdition.
51
It is nearly impossible to hear the term ‘ednat ’eivarim without hearing the reverberations of ‘edna, a
hapax legomenon in Genesis 18:12. After hearing the announcement of one of the three divine
messengers regarding the impending birth of offspring to herself and Abraham, Sarah asks:
?‫אַח ֵרי ְבל ִֹתי ָהיְ ָתה ִלּי ֶע ְדנָה‬
ֲ
After withering, shall I be rejuvenated?
The word ‘edna resonates further in Genesis Rabba (Parasha 48:12 in Albeck, Genesis Rabba, Vol. 2,
494) where the rejuvenation is associated literally with an extraordinary return of menses for Sarah,
and figuratively with God’s adornment of beloved-Jerusalem with finery – ‘the most precious of all
jewels’. The latter extends the metaphor set out in Ezekiel depicting God’s nurturance of foundlingJerusalem and the subsequent flowering of their love, as Jerusalem comes of age:
‫אחרי בלתי היתה לי עדנה אמרה האשה כל זמן שהיא ילדה יש לה תכשיטין ואני אחרי בלתי היתה‬
‫ האשה כל זמן שהיא ילדה יש לה ווסתות ואני אחרי‬,‫ תכשיטין היך דאת אמר ואעדך עדי‬.‫לי עדנה‬
.‫בלותי היתה לי עדנה עידנין‬
‘After withering, shall I be rejuvenated?’ She said, All the while a woman is a youth, she has
‘jewels’ and as for myself, after withering shall I be rejuvenated? ‘Jewels’ as it is said, ‘I shall
adorn you with a jewel’ (Ezekiel 16:1). All the while a woman is a youth, she has menstral cycles,
and as for myself, after withering, I shall have ‘the jewel of all jewels’.
129
One is an excerpt of She‘on ha-mayim [The Roar of the Waters]
,‫ֲאנִ י ָשׁ ַק ְע ִתּי ְבּ ָענָן ֶשׁל נ ַֹעם‬
‫ֲאנִ י ָשׁ ַק ְע ִתּי‬
52
.‫מוּגוֹתי‬
ִ
ְ‫ֲאנִ י נ‬
I sank in a cloud of tenderness,
I sank,
I dissolved.53
A second is an excerpt of Mahlon ve-khilyon:
?‫ַמהוּ ַה ָדּ ָבר ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָלא ַהזֶּה‬
[…]
,‫ֹאחז ִבּי ַה ָדּ ָבר ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָלא ַהזֶּה‬
ַ ‫ִאם י‬
,‫ַמּים ֲאנִ י נָפוֹץ‬
ִ ‫ֵבּין ִשׁ ְב ָעה י‬
‫יב ִרים ַעל ִבּ ְצ ֵעי ַה ַמּיִ ם‬
ָ ‫ֶע ְדנַת ֵא‬
54
.‫ההוּא‬
ַ ‫ָצ ִפים ַל ָמּקוֹם ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָלא‬
What is this marvelous matter?
[…]
If this marvelous matter takes hold of me,
I’ll be dispersed among the seven seas,
Pleasure of limbs upon the standing waters
Floating to the place of that marvelousness.
The expression ‘ednat ’eivarim signals jouissance or the speaker of the poem. She values its
experience as ‘the most precious of jewels’.
52
Ravikovitch, “She‘on ha-mayim,” [“The Roar of the Waters,”] Kol ha-shirim, 89.
53
Ravikovitch, “The Roar of the Waters,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 95.
54
Ravikovitch, “Mahlon ve-khilyon,” Kol ha-shirim, 80. The names in this title, not mentioned elsewhere
in the poem, are those of the two sons of Naomi and Elimelekh of the biblical Scroll of Ruth. During a
time of famine in the land of Canaan the family left for Moab in search of produce. There both sons
perished as did their father. The name ‘Mahlon’ is derived from a verb root meaning ‘to take ill’. It can
be connected to the speaker’s perpetual feelings of lovesickness. The name ‘Kilyon’ is derived from a
verb root meaning ‘to finish’, in a complete and final sense. It can be connected to the speaker’s
sensation of dissolving entirely when her resources are entirely ‘finished’ or ‘spent’ at the height of
love. Romance languages such as French refer to this sensation as petit-mort conveying ultimate
consummation in a death-like swoon.
These literary associations serve as reminders that the speaker of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poetry
continually sings counterpoint with a vocal female lover of the Song of Songs in matters of the heart.
The translation Song of Songs 2:5 in JPS Tanakh captures the essence of their common bond with the
following turn of phrase: “for I am faint with love.”
130
A third is an excerpt of an untitled poem referred to as ’Isha qetana [A Petite Woman]:
‫ִא ָשׁה ְק ַטנָּה ָע ְשׂ ָתה ָלהּ ְל ֶע ֶרשׂ‬
‫אָרץ‬
ֶ ‫ֶאת ַכּדוּר ָה‬
.‫ַה ַכּדּוּר ַהגָדוֹל‬
[...]
,‫אָרץ‬
ֶ ‫צוֹמחוֹת ִכּ ְפ ָר ִחים ִמן ָה‬
ְ ‫ָדי‬
ַ‫י‬
‫וְ ַעל ְפּנֵי ַה ַכּדּוּר ֶה ָעצוּם ַהזֶּה‬
.‫ָבּאָה ֶח ְדוָה ְבּ ָכל ֲא ָב ָרי‬
[...]
‫ִכּי ִא ָשׁה ְק ַטנָּה‬
55
.‫ָחה ַעל גַּבּוֹ‬
ָ‫נ‬
A petite woman made the world
her bower
the grand globe.
[…]
My arms blossom like flowers from the earth,
And upon this vast globe’s surface
Joy surges into all my limbs.
[…]
For a petite woman
rests on its surface.
A fourth is an excerpt of Hishtadlut nosefet [Another Attempt]:
‫אוֹת ָך ְל ָכל ַה ָשּׁנִ ים‬
ְ ‫לוּ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִשּׂיג‬
,‫אוֹתך ִמ ָכּל ַה ָשּׁנִ ים‬
ְ
‫יך ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִשּׂיג‬
ְ ‫ֵא‬
[...] ‫יך ֶא ְפ ָשׁר‬
ְ ‫ֵא‬
‫יצוּע‬
ַ ‫ְכּ ֵשׁם ֶשׁ ְמּ ַד ִמּים ֲענָנִ ים ִכּ‬
56
,‫ָצוּע ַלגּוּף‬
ַ ‫שׁוֹשׁנֵּי ֲענָנִ ים ְכּי‬
ַ
If I could have you forever
How could I get you from eternity,
How is it possible […]
Just like imagining clouds as bedding
Cloud-lilies as bedding for the body
55
Ravikovitch, “[’Isha qetana],” Kol ha-shirim, 45.
56
Ravikovitch, “Hishtadlut nosefet,” Kol ha-shirim, 83.
131
In Chapter Three it was likewise seen that a similar idiom was used to convey the
powerful attraction felt by the golden apple for her beloved with every limb, with every
organ, throughout her entire body or being – be-khol ’avarav:
‫ָהב‬
ָ ‫פּוּח ז‬
ַ ‫ַתּ‬
[...] ‫אָהב‬
ַ
57
.‫א ָב ָריו‬
ֲ ‫ְבּ ָכל‬
A golden apple
Loved […]
Body and soul.
The excerpts above illustrate that in addition to the sensation of sinking or descent into
water or a bed of cloud in experiencing jouissance, the persona speaks rhetorically of
‘marvelous matter’. It is organic, perhaps primordial matter which she imagines taking
hold of her and into whose moist environs she would nestle and dissolve into
pleasurable oblivion, as in Makhlon ve-khilyon. In a similar context she projects an
organic union of one of her figures of alterity with the earth, as in ’Isha qetana: she rests
on the earth’s outer layer as her bower, settling into the cradling natural divan so
integrally that the earth’s grasses enwrap her and grow from her body. Her own hands
blossom forth as flowers from the earth. This detail doubles as an expression of erotic
delight felt throughout her body, even in her extremities. The excerpts convey that the
persona’s pleasure spreads to sensations of ’avarim – literally, limbs and organs;
“completely.” We infer from these excerpts that the speaker’s enjoyment is a full-body
experience.
Lesly asserts that the persona’s eros reaches its peak amid expressions conveying
sensory intoxication or disorientation.58 To focus agreement with that assertion with
57
Ravikovitch, “’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav,” Kol ha-shirim, 15-16.
58
Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros,” 112. Lesly demonstrates her point with excerpts in which
she infers drowning and perdition. While I would agree with Lesly on the matter of eros indicated in the
poetry through an intoxication of senses, I do not share Lesly’s confirmation of Lily Ratok’s view (Loc.
cit.) that the disorientation and descents are metaphors for drowning, perdition and disappearance. I
hold that the emphasis regarding intoxicated senses and vertical descent is on the experience of
receptive cushioning and supported repose in, or on, organic matter, as illustrated above. Objectively
132
increased specificity I would stipulate that these expressions of eros communicate
descent or settling into the receptive cushioning of water, cloud or pliant organic fascia.
As well these expressions of heightened sensory perception convey a full-body
experience. Further I detect that the persona experiences similarly intensified sensory
acuity, likewise to the point of sensory intoxication or disorientation, when descending
fully into her writing process. This proposal unfolds below.
(iii)
Descent into the Writing Process and Intoxication of Senses
A poem which clearly shows both descent and intensification of sensory perception to
the point of sensory intoxication, is called ’Atta bevadai zokher [Surely You Remember]:
‫אתה בודאי זוכר‬
‫הוֹל ִכים‬
ְ ‫ֻלּם‬
ָ ‫אַח ֵרי ֶשׁכּ‬
ֲ
,‫ירים‬
ִ ‫ֲאנִ י נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת ְל ַבד ִעם ַה ִשּׁ‬
‫ירים ֶשׁ ִלּי‬
ִ ‫ֶח ְל ָקם ִשׁ‬
.‫וְ ֶח ְל ָקם ֶשׁל ֲא ֵח ִרים‬
.‫יוֹתר‬
ֵ ‫אוֹה ֶבת‬
ֶ ‫ירים ֶשׁ ָכּ ְתבוּ ֲא ֵח ִרים ֲאנִ י‬
ִ ‫ִשׁ‬
‫ֲאנִ י נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת ְבּ ֶשׁ ֶקט‬
.‫וּמ ֲחנַק ַהגָּרוֹן ִמ ְשׁ ַתּ ְח ֵרר‬
ַ
.‫ֲאנִ י נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת‬
.‫ֵלכוּ‬
ְ ‫ֻלּם י‬
ָ ‫רוֹצה ֶשׁכּ‬
ָ ‫ִל ְפ ָע ִמים ֲאנִ י‬
.‫ָעים‬
ִ ‫אוּלי ָדּ ָבר נ‬
ַ ‫ירים זֶה‬
ִ ‫ִל ְכתֹּב ִשׁ‬
.‫ַבּ ִהים‬
ֵ ‫אַתּה‬
ָ
ְ ‫יוֹשׁב ַבּ ֶח ֶדר וְ ָכל ַה ִקּירוֹת ִמ ְתגּ‬
.‫יוֹתר‬
ֵ ‫ֲשׂים ַע ִזּים‬
ִ ‫ַה ְצּ ָב ִעים ַנע‬
.‫הוֹפ ֶכת ְלע ֶֹמק ְבּ ֵאר‬
ֶ ‫ִמ ְט ַפּ ַחת ְכּ ֻח ָלּה‬
.‫ֵלכוּ‬
ְ ‫ֻלּם י‬
ָ ‫אַתּה רוֹ ֶצה ֶשׁכּ‬
ָ
.‫יוֹד ַע ָמה ִא ְתּ ָך‬
ֵ ‫אָתּה לֹא‬
ָ
.‫יוֹתר‬
ַ
ֵ ‫אוּלי ַתּ ְחשֹׁב ַעל ְשׁנֵי ְד ָב ִרים אוֹ‬
.‫ָבישׁ ָטהוֹר‬
ִ ‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ַהכֹּל ַי ֲעבֹר וְ ִת ְהיֶה ג‬
ַ
.‫אַה ָבה‬
ֲ ‫אַחר ָכּ ְך‬
ַ
.‫אָהב ָכּל ָכּ ְך ֶאת ַע ְצמוֹ‬
ַ ‫ַר ִקיס‬
ְ‫נ‬
.‫ַחל‬
ַ ‫אָהב גַּם ֶאת ַהנּ‬
ַ ‫ִט ֵפּשׁ ִמי ֶשׁלֹּא ֵמ ִבין ֶשׁהוּא‬
.‫יוֹשׁב ְל ַב ְדּ ָך‬
ֵ ‫אַתּה‬
ָ
.‫ִל ְבּ ָך ַמ ְכ ִאיב ְל ָך ֲא ָבל הוּא לֹא יִ ָשּׁ ֵבר‬
these luxuriant experiences contrast with lamentably rougher day to day experiences for the persona;
subjectively these present as the persona’s communication of jouissance.
133
,‫ְלאַט ְלאַט נִ ְמ ָחקוֹת ַה ְדּ ֻמיּוֹת ַה ֵדּהוֹת‬
.‫ָמים‬
ִ ‫אַחר ָכּ ְך נִ ְמ ָחקיִ ם ַה ְפּג‬
ַ
‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ָבּאָה ֶשׁ ֶמשׁ ַבּ ֲחצוֹת ַה ַלּיְ ָלה‬
ַ
.‫זוֹכר‬
ֵ ‫אַתּה‬
ָ ‫גַּם ֶאת ַה ְפּ ָר ִחים ַה ֵכּ ִהים‬
.‫אַחר‬
ֶ ‫ית‬
ָ ִ‫ָהי‬
ֵ ‫ישׁהוּ‬
ֶ ‫רוֹצה ִל ְהיוֹת ֵמת אוֹ ַחי אוֹ ִמ‬
.‫אוֹהב‬
ֵ ‫אַתּה‬
ָ ‫אַחת ֶשׁ‬
ַ ‫אוּלי יֵשׁ ֶא ֶרץ‬
ַ
.‫אַחת‬
ַ ‫אוּלי יֵשׁ ִמ ָלּה‬
ַ
.‫זוֹכר‬
ֵ ‫ַדּאי‬
ַ ‫אַתּה ְבּו‬
ָ
.‫יח ַל ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ ִל ְשׁק ַֹע ִכּ ְרצוֹנָהּ‬
ַ ִ‫ִט ֵפּשׁ ִמי ֶשׁ ַמּנּ‬
.‫ֲר ָבה ֶאל ָה ִאיִּ ים‬
ָ ‫ימה ִלנְ דֹּד ַמע‬
ָ ‫ִהיא ָת ִמיד ַמ ְק ִדּ‬
.‫ ַקיִ ץ ָוח ֶֹרף‬,‫וּל ָבנָה‬
ְ ‫יך יָבוֹאוּ ַח ָמּה‬
ָ ‫ֵא ֶל‬
59
.‫סוֹפיִּ ים‬
ִ -‫אוֹצרוֹת ֵאין‬
ָ
Surely You Remember
After they all go home
I remain alone with the poems,
some of my own,
some of others.
Poems that others have written I love best of all.
I remain in the silence
and the choking in my throat relaxes.
I remain.
Sometimes I wish they would all go home.
Writing poems may be a pleasant thing to do.
You sit in your room and the walls grow taller.
Colors grow bolder.
A blue kerchief turns into the depth of a well.
You wish everyone would leave.
You don’t know what’s the matter with you.
Perhaps you’ll think of a thing or two.
Then it will all pass, and you’ll be pure crystal.
And then love.
Narcissus was so much in love with himself.
Only a fool doesn’t see that he loved the river too.
You sit alone.
Your heart pains you, but it’s not going to break.
The faded dramatis personae are erased one by one.
Then the flaws are erased. Then a sun
sets at midnight. You remember
the dark flowers too.
You wish you were dead or alive or anyone else.
59
Ravikovitch, “’’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116.
134
Isn’t there even one country you love?
Isn’t there even one word?
Surely you remember.
Only a fool lets the sun set at its own pleasure.
It always sets off too early westward for the islands.
Sun and moon, winter and summer will come to you.
Infinite treasure.60
In this poem the persona derives solace following ‘too much togetherness’ with people
by recalling the private comfort within her reach. The solace stems from familiarity and
ease with poetry in general – her own and that of other poets. Comfort also stems from
ease with her personal writing process, particularly the respite it affords her from
emotional discomfort. She recounts, step by step, the familiar incremental stages she is
used to experiencing en route to commencing her writing, just as a person dependent
on a substance can relate the recognizable integers of the relief, or the spreading ‘high’
when the substance takes effect in the body.
The speaker’s heightened sensory awareness is apparent in her perception of the
expansion of inanimate elements of her milieu as well as the intensification of colours:
.‫ַבּ ִהים‬
ְ ‫יוֹשׁב ַבּ ֶח ֶדר וְ ָכל ַה ִקּירוֹת ִמ ְתגּ‬
ֵ ‫אַתּה‬
ָ
.‫יוֹתר‬
ֵ ‫ֲשׂים ַע ִזּים‬
ִ ‫ַה ְצּ ָב ִעים ַנע‬
61
.‫ֹמק ְבּ ֵאר‬
ֶ ‫הוֹפ ֶכת ְלע‬
ֶ ‫ִמ ְט ַפּ ַחת ְכּ ֻח ָלּה‬
You sit in your room and the walls grow taller.
Colors grow bolder.
A blue kerchief turns into the-depth-of-a-well.
Walls grow taller and pigment grows bolder. The persona can discern a blue so blue
that it metaphorically becomes visible as the unnamable tint of a specific spatial hue:
the water-colour-blue she calls “the-depth-of-a-well.”
In addition to detecting heightened sensory perception in the context of the persona’s
writing process, this study notes an additional similarity to her experience of eros: the
impression of descent. The speaker presents a visual progression from the upper edges
60
Ravikovitch, “Surely You Remember,” The Collected Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch, 111.
61
Ravikovitch, “’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116.
135
of the walls downward to the level of subterranean waters. Only after this mandatory
vertical sweep from heights to depths does the persona gain enough clarity to settle
down into writing the way she wishes:
.‫ָבישׁ ָטהוֹר‬
ִ ‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ַהכֹּל ַי ֲעבֹר וְ ִת ְהיֶה ג‬
ַ
62
.‫אַה ָבה‬
ֲ ‫אַחר ָכּ ְך‬
ַ
Then it will all pass, and you’ll be pure crystal.
And then love.
Becoming pure crystal exemplifies fully entering the state of ‘conscious consciousness’
to which the persona aspires in order to write bios. She has the ability in this state to
discern love and to write love, both of which often elude her. The love mentioned in the
poem is not qualified in any manner: neither too much nor too little. For once it is
unconditional love.
As outlined in Chapter Two the term bios is used in this study in the way that James
Olney offers as “both the course of a life seen as a process, rather than a stable entity,
and the unique psychic configuration that is this life and no other.”63 The term
‘consciousness’ is referred to in the context that James Olney proposes as
“transcendent reality […] committed to a vertical thrust from consciousness down into
the unconscious […]” 64
In writing bios the poet usually works to subtract the exertion of overt shaping
techniques for the construction of self; instead the persona seeks to perform her self
entirely in the moment, allowing the written performance to pass through, or be
refracted through, the multiple prisms of pure crystal en route to becoming poems on
paper. Such writing requires a ‘transcendent reality’ with a vertical descent into the
unconscious, as Olney conveys. It is a concept similar to the one that Hélène Cixous
advances as central to the writing process of écriture féminine. As previously
mentioned, for fruitful composition Cixous emphasizes the imperative descent to the
62
Ravikovitch, “’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116.
63
Olney, Memory/Bios, 241.
64
Olney, Memory/Bios 239.
136
nether realms deep within and asserts, “this is where the treasure of writing lies, where
it is formed, where it has stayed since the beginning of creation: down below.”65
(iv)
Extension of Intoxicated Senses in the Writing of Bios: Release
from Dimensions of Time, Space and Order and Ability to Traverse
Natural Boundaries
It is evident that both the experience of eros and the experience of settling fully into the
writing process, especially the writing of bios, involve a subconscious and intuitive
descent on the part of the poet-persona. The descent is sensed physically, psychically
and emotionally. She knows the sensation. She yearns for it. She summons it.
Compatibly both the experience of eros and the commencement of the writing process,
especially the performance of bios through poetry, are presaged by an intensification of
sensory perception to the point of intoxication of senses.
In ’Atta bevadai zokher additional discombobulation is noted beyond the initial
intensification of sensory perception. When the persona becomes ‘pure crystal’ and the
writing of bios begins, there’s an outright confoundment of dimensions of time and
space. Nothing conforms to linearity or cyclical nature in time or space or language. The
sun tarries in the firmament until midnight: “Then a sun / sets at midnight.”66 Spatially
and linguistically there is a simplicity and openness that hints of a return to an era prior
to that of hubris associated with the building of the Tower of Babel when “the whole
earth was of one language and of few words.”67 Humble and simple expressions of the
hypothetical, suitable for that era past, precede the simplicity and openness of the
expression of surety: “Maybe there’s a certain land that you like. Maybe there’s a single
word. Surely you remember.”
At the same time as the senses are heightened, temporal markers are blurred in a
reversal of the biblical post-diluvian promise to biblical Noah regarding orderly and
65
Cixous, Ladder of Writing, 118.
66
While sunset at midnight is a possibility in certain countries such as Norway, it is not known to occur in
the poet’s Levantine surroundings.
67
Transl. M. Rosenbaum and A.M. Silberman, Pentateuch: Genesis 11:1.
137
constant seasonal cycles.68 In this poem the speaker conflates seasonal markers with
celestial bodies visible in the sky to mark day and night: “You will have sun, moon,
summer and winter.” More precisely there is relief and release from conventional linear,
chronological progression and from the dictates of existential continuity that the persona
applies in displacing syntactic determinacy and conventional states of being: “You wish
you were dead or alive or anyone else.” Following two phrases in apposition ending in
“dead” and “alive”,69 the third varies the part of speech and takes readers by surprise.
The poet-persona applies the same poetic of syntactic undermining in additional
instances of writing bios. It is apparent, for example in Kishufim - Enchantment:70
‫כישופים‬
,‫ַהיּוֹם ֲאנִ י ִג ְב ָעה‬
.‫ָמ ָחר ֲאנִ י יָם‬
‫תוֹעה‬
ָ ‫ָכּל יוֹם ֲאנִ י‬
,‫ִכּ ְב ֵאר ֶשׁל ִמ ְריָם‬
[...]
‫ַהיּוֹם ֲאנִ י ַשׁ ְבּלוּל‬
‫ָמ ָחר ֲאנִ י ֵעץ‬
.‫ָרם ַכּ ָתּ ָמר‬
‫כּוּך‬
ְ ‫יתי‬
ִ ִ‫ֶא ְתמוֹל ָהי‬
.‫ַהיּוֹם ֲאנִ י ְצ ָד ִפית‬
71
.‫חר‬
ָ ‫ָמ ָחר ֲאנִ י ָמ‬
68
Genesis 8:22.
:‫ָליְ ָלה לֹא יִ ְשׁבֹּתוּ‬
ַ ‫ֶרע וְ ָק ִציר וְ קֹר ָוחֹם וְ ַקיִ ץ ָוח ֶֹרף וְ יוֹם ו‬
ַ ‫אָרץ ז‬
ֶ ‫עֹד ָכּל יְ ֵמי ָה‬
So long as the earth endures,
Seedtime and harvest,
Cold and heat,
Summer and winter,
Day and night
Shall not cease.
(JPS Tanakh, Genesis 8:22.)
69
The first two phrases end with subjective completions in the form of Hebrew stative verbs; the third
ends with a direct object in the form of a noun, surprisingly overturning the etched expectation.
70
Ravikovitch, “Kishufim,” [“Enchantment”] Kol ha-shirim, 96.
71
Loc. cit.
138
Enchantment
Today I’m a hill,
tomorrow a sea.
All day I’m awandering
like Miriam’s well.
[…]
Today I’m a snail
72
tomorrow a tree
proud as a palm.
Yesterday I was a niche
today I’m a sea-shell.
Tomorrow I’ll be tomorrow.
The entire poem is playful and imaginative, light and hopeful. The speaker expresses
enchantment with the natural world. She is sufficiently at ease to suggest that she is
feeling existentially comfortable: her ‘white ink’ of écriture féminine is flowing. The
speaker sketches elemental self-portraits of herself as a hill, a sea, the midrashic
wandering well of biblical Miriam, a snail, a tree and so on. Each visual vignette sets the
reader up to expect a subsequent projection of self as an element of the natural world.
In the last line, “Tomorrow I’ll be tomorrow.” the speaker swiftly displaces syntactic
determinacy in two ways. She replaces the expected organic object with a temporal
marker, projecting her image as ‘tomorrow’. The speaker manufactures a syntactic
‘disconnect’ between the initial use of “tomorrow” as preposition of time in concert with
its previous usages in the poem, and its repeated use. This time, “tomorrow” is
employed as an unexpected noun as if to say: ‘Tomorrow I’ll be [a] tomorrow.’ The
immediate impression is the effect of the unexpected mismatch of the juxtaposed-asbefore pairs of ‘Today I’m an “a” and tomorrow I’ll be a “b”’: “Today I’m a seashell. /
Tomorrow I’ll be [a] tomorrow.” As stated above, she is hopeful.
Ravikovitch’s persona makes use of syntactic undermining in expressing states of being
to which she aspires, as well as in enacting freedom from the temporal and spatial
72
bTa‘anit 9a.
139
constraints. This gives her the ability to traverse esoteric boundaries and forces usually
considered barriers.73 In the following excerpt she employs a beautiful turn of phrase in
aspiring to cross the limens of thought:
‫יע ֶאל ְק ֵצה ַה ַמּ ְח ָשׁ ָבה‬
ַ ‫רוֹצה ְל ַה ִגּ‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
74
ַ ‫יתהּ ְמ ַח ֶתּ ֶכת ְכּ‬
ָ ‫אשׁ‬
ִ ‫ֶשׁאַף ֵר‬
.‫ס ִכּין‬
I want to arrive at the edge of thought
whose very beginning cuts like a knife.
In the following excerpt the speaker projects a hypothetical breach of the invisible
barrier between earth and sky, and between mortals and the elements:
‫וְ לוּ ָהיָה ִלי ע ֶֹפר ְמ ַד ֵלּג ַעל ָה ָר ָמה‬
-‫ְמ ַק ֵפּץ ַעל ַה ְגּ ָבעוֹת‬
‫ָהיִ ינוּ נִ ְת ִלים ְבּגַגּוֹת ַה ָבּ ִתּים‬
‫קוֹשׁ ִרים ֶאת ַכּנְ ֵפי ָהרוּחוֹת‬
ְ ‫וְ ָהיִ ינוּ‬
-‫וּמ ְס ַתּ ְבּכוֹת‬
ִ ‫ַעד ֶשׁ ָהיוּ ִמ ְס ַתּ ְבּכוֹת‬
75
.‫חוּטים‬
ִ ‫ְכּמוֹ ְפּ ַק ַעת ֶשׁל‬
And were I to have a young hart leaping upon the heights
frolicking upon the hills We’d hang from the rooftops
and we’d bind the wings of the wind
until they were tousled and tangled
like a jumble of threads.
The excerpt above is cited from a poem laden with the imagery of the Song of Songs.
The imagined hart resembles a male lover in the Song of Songs who is pictured
“leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills […] like a gazelle or a young
hart.”76 Progressing beyond such grand leaping, the persona envisages traversing the
73
In Chapter 6 there is a discussion of ‘Egla ‘arufa, a poem in which Ravikovitch’s speaker goes beyond
mere ‘syntactic undermining’ to traverse cultural boundaries. There she employs ‘hermeneutic lag’ to
displace contextual determinacy. The technique is discussed in context.
74
Ravikovitch, “Ha-ma‘arav ha-kahol,” [The Blue West,] Kol ha-shirim, 75-76.
75
Ravikovitch, “Shokhra,” [Intoxication,] Kol ha-shirim, 51-52.
76
Koren Bible, Song of Songs 2:8-9.
140
zone of earthly gravity together with her wished-for beloved to swing from the rafters
and playfully tousle the wings of the wind.
In sum when the persona engages specifically in the writing of bios, distinctive
phenomena, beyond the initial descent and portents of intoxication of senses, take
place. Whether seen as an extension of intoxicated of senses or as their outright
confoundment, these phenomena include a relief and release from the constraints
conventionally thought to pose barriers.
The examples above contribute to an understanding of the persona’s choice to engage
in self-writing, especially the writing of bios. When writing bios the persona enjoys relief
and release from bonds of time, space, order, border and syntax. Self-writing in general
connotes non-linear verbal constructions of self as opposed to memoir in the stance of
chronological recall. This can be relieving to the writer in and of itself. Beyond that bios
connotes a high degree of performativity and allows for a variety of means and breadth
to convey the naturally fragmented, decentered self by taking advantage of such leave
to write self in the moment. This liberty to perform herself prismatically overlaps by
nature with kaleidoscopic enactments of self of écriture féminine. The liberty to perform
herself prismatically is balm for the persona’s soul and, as we shall now see, ‘vanilla for
her throat.
4.8
Convergence of Eros and Creative Vitality: Portraits of a
Throat
Just as the persona draws on eros to tend to her lovelorn being, so she depends on
immersion in her writing process to tend to her general existential malaise. The malaise
is due, in the first place, to the speaker’s lifelong experience of love in all the wrong
proportions. That the persona is conscious and desirous of the potential for eros and
productive writing to converge, is borne out in poems across the oeuvre. It is most
visibly in portraits of her throat.
The poem ’Atta bevadai zokher, examined, reveals the extent to which the poet-persona
derives relief from angst by engaging in her writing. Even her habitually constricted
throat eases and love can pass through her crystal clear being:
141
‫ֲאנִ י נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת ְבּ ֶשׁ ֶקט‬
.‫וּמ ֲחנַק ַהגָּרוֹן ִמ ְשׁ ַתּ ְח ֵרר‬
ַ
.‫ֲאנִ י נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת‬
[...]
.‫ָבישׁ ָטהוֹר‬
ִ ‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ַהכֹּל ַי ֲעבֹר וְ ִת ְהיֶה ג‬
ַ
77
.‫אַה ָבה‬
ֲ ‫אַחר ָכּ ְך‬
ַ
I remain in the silence
and the choking in my throat relaxes.
I remain.
[…]
Then it will all pass and you’ll be pure crystal.
And then love.
Beyond the reported ‘reprieve of throat’ is the speaker’s consciousness that the
combination of love and writing sustains her. It is the basis for the repeated confirmation
to herself of her survival, doubling as thinly veiled encouragement to carry on: “I
remain.”
The motif of the speaker’s constricted throat, occasionally its release, recurs in the
contextual milieu of the oeuvre. The environments in which the motif recurs reinforce
the concept that the throat’s conditions are related to either her need for eros or creative
vigour, or both. She portrays her throat, for example, in Shir hatzot 1970 [Midnight Song
1970]:
‫וְ עוֹד ָשׁנָה ָתּבוֹא‬
‫וְ שׁוּב ְכּמוֹ ָתּ ִמיד‬
78
.‫אַה ָבה‬
ֲ ‫ְגּרוֹנִ י ָחנוּק ֵמ‬
Another year will come
and again as always
my throat will constrict with love.
In the excerpt above which closes the poem, the speaker transparently relates her
choked-up gorge to circumstances of love or lack thereof.
77
Ravikovitch, “’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116.
78
Ravikovitch, “Shir hatzot 1970,” Kol ha-shirim, 170.
142
In Cinderella ba-mitbah the throat-motif appears twice: once in connection with the
stepsisters and once in connection with the persona. Cinderella is presented as not
envying her stepsisters who go about with throats outstretched in excessive pride.
79
Cinderella, another of the persona’s figures d’altérité, has immeasurable treasure troves
of imagination presumably to use some day in writing. She is, however, troubled for now
by a lump that burns hot in her throat. It is the manifestation of her malaise that goes
hand in hand with the pounding heart of her lovelorn condition and thoughts of ceasing
to carry on living and the inability to ply her craft.
‫ָהיְ ָתה ָלהּ ְפּ ַק ַעת ְק ַטנָּה ֶשׁל חֹם ַבּגָּרוֹן‬
.‫חוֹלנִ ית‬
ָ ,‫וְ ַה ְלמוּת ֵלב ַעזָּה‬
[...]
80
.‫מוּכנָה ְבּ ָכל ֵעת ַל ְחדֹּל ְל ִה ְת ַקיֵּם‬
ָ
She had a small knot of heat in her throat
and fierce heart palpitations, sickly.
prepared momentarily to cease to exist.
The speaker paints another graphic portrait of her throat in Simanim [Signs]:
,‫יקה‬
ָ ‫וּמ ְפ ִס‬
ַ ‫כּוֹת ֶבת‬
ֶ ‫ַע ְכ ָשֹו ֲאנִ י‬
,‫ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ַל ְחשֹׁב‬
81
.‫ַדּ ֵפּי נְ יָר ַר ִבּים נִ ְת ְקעוּ ִלי ִבּ ְגרוֹנִ י‬
Now I write, then I stop,
you’d think …82
so many slips of paper lodged in my throat.
79
Ravikovitch, “Cinderella ba-mitbah,” [“Cinderella in the Kitchen,”] Kol ha-shirim, 227-228. The turn of
phrase that Ravikovitch chooses is reminiscent of the reproach in Isaiah 3:16 for the women of Israel
who strut in vanity:
:‫ַסָנה‬
ְ ‫ֵיהם ְתּ ַעכּ‬
ֶ ‫ְטפֹף ֵתּ ַל ְכנָה וּ ְב ַר ְגל‬
ָ ‫שׂ ְקּרוֹת ֵעיָניִם ָהלוֹ ְך ו‬
ַ ‫וּמ‬
ְ ‫ַתּ ַל ְכנָה נְטוּיוֹת גָּרוֹן‬
ֵ ‫ָגבְהוּ בְּנוֹת צִיּוֹן ו‬
For the women of Israel go about with outstretched necks, roving eyes, and mincing gait,
making a percussive-jingling with [the ankle-bracelets ornamenting] their feet. (Translation based
on JPS Tanakh, Loc. cit; explanation added.)
80
Ravikovitch, “Cinderella ba-mitbah,” Kol ha-shirim, 227-228.
81
Ravikovitch, “Simanim,” Kol ha-shirim, 274.
82
The Hebrew expression parallel to “you’d think” suggests an ironic tone as if to say, “You’d think great
things were happening, but …” It is as if to say that despite appearances, one should not get the
impression that the speaker’s writing is really going well.
143
The speaker is engaged in some ‘on-again off-again’ writing and is working at settling
down into the writing process. She makes use of the quoted throat-related metaphor to
indicate writing attempts halted in progress. As seen whether it is a matter of shattered
love or stalled writing, the fragments stick in the speaker’s craw.
The constriction and release of throats in Portret and ’Atta bevadai zokher respectively
are mutually linked to both eros and the writing process. To the extent that the chokedup sensation or its release reflects the persona’s malaise or relief relative to eros, to the
creative writing process, or both, the proof is in the depiction of her throat. The lovelornpoet-persona combines the impulse to write bios and the pressing need for both eros
and creative vitality in the performance of a lifetime, Portret. The two converge in the
essential substance that the speaker craves as a symbolic solution, to soothe the
sentient ache.
4.9
Summary
Portret is arguably the centerpiece among the self-portraits of the oeuvre. In an
extraordinary performance of bios this poem reveals that the persona is an
accomplished writer of royal standing who feels existential malaise that is only held at
bay when she is either saturated with eros or immersed in her writing. In this poem the
profound yearnings for each coalesce in her craving for ‘vanilla’, the dual stream of lifeconferring ‘white ink’. It is accordingly a poem that highlights the convergence of eros
with creative vitality, heralding fruitful bouts of écriture féminine on the part of the
persona. Their convergence serves as the speaker’s personal store of ‘sweet-delicacies
and apples’ for tending to her lovelorn self. The desire for such convergence is borne
out across the poetic oeuvre, particularly in verbal portraits of the persona’s throat.
An examination of the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch reveals that the persona craves the
kind of creative vitality that can fuel her writing. Eros can function in that capacity for
her. Its absence or lack is ‘deadly’ to her writing process which is her raison d’être. As
we shall see in Chapter Five a surfeit of eros of the wrong kind presents as the threat of
thanatos to the speaker and gives rise to flames.
144
Chapter Five
Persona on Fire: Portrait of a Shipwreck
Hitrosheshut – Impoverishment: Background
5.1
The previous chapter shows the self-portrait of a figure of royalty and a skilled scribe.
The persona is pictured performing bios as a royal chanteuse yearning to write and
recite for the king. She is impeded by ‘ikkuvim – hindrances of unspecified inertia
bearing a striking resemblance to writer’s block. The speaker expresses her malaise
through contrasting maladies, sensations of constraint and profound craving.
In this chapter the persona presents as a raging conflagration and resolves to
extinguish the blaze in boundless waters. To do so she seeks to sail away in endless
waters as a ship in ruins. In this sense Hitrosheshut is a verbal self-portrait of a
shipwreck. It is an image of self that she builds with both biblical and rabbinic Hebrew
sources. The speaker tips her hand intertextually to indicate that she is suffering from a
surfeit of incendiary love. Accordingly, in Hitrosheshut the persona continues to sing
counterpoint with the lovelorn maiden at the heart of the Song of Songs.
This chapter initially unfolds along the lines of a reading of the poem to uncover the
classical Jewish sources which ‘dance’ together with it in a well choreographed
intertextual ballet. In subsequent spirals the chapter will consider additional details of
the self-portrait.
The poem Hitrosheshut was published in 1976 in Tehom kore’, Dahlia Ravikovitch’s
fourth major collection of works. Tehom kore’ literally means ‘the deep calls out’ as in
Psalms 42:
1
:‫יך ָע ַלי ָע ָברוּ‬
ָ ‫ַלּ‬
ֶ ‫יך וְ ג‬
ָ ‫יך ָכּל ִמ ְשׁ ָבּ ֶר‬
ָ ‫נּוֹר‬
ֶ ‫קוֹרא ְלקוֹל ִצ‬
ֵ ‫ְתּהוֹם ֶאל ְתּהוֹם‬
“Deep calls to deep at the noise of your cataracts:
all your waves and thy billows sweep over me.”2
1
Psalms 42:8.
145
In English translation Ravikovitch’s fourth collection has come to be known as Deep
Calleth Unto Deep3 or Deep Calleth.4 Hitrosheshut is included as expected in the 1995
anthology of the poet’s poetry called Kol ha-shirim, and in Me-rov ’ahava (1998). The
last is a special collection of poems of love and, I would add, depression printed ‘in
conversation’ with photographed works of visual and plastic art by Israeli artists.5 The
poem reads as follows:
‫התרוששות‬
‫רוֹשׁשׁ‬
ֵ ‫ִאם ְל ִה ְת‬
‫רוֹצה ְכּמוֹ ֶא ֶרץ ֲח ֵר ָבה‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
‫רוֹשׁשׁ‬
ֵ ‫ִאם ְל ִה ְת‬
.‫ַאוָה‬
ֲ ‫רוֹצה ְבּג‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
‫תּוֹרה‬
ָ ‫ִס ְפ ֵרי‬
‫ילים ִמן ָה ֵאשׁ‬
ִ ‫ַמ ִצּ‬
.‫אוֹתי לֹא‬
ִ
‫רוֹצה ְל ַב ֵקּשׁ‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
‫ֶשׁ ִאם אָמוּת‬
;‫רוּפה‬
ָ ‫ֶא ְהיֶה ָכּ ֳאנִ יָּה ְט‬
‫ַמיִ ם ֶשׁ ֵאין ָל ֶהם סוֹף‬
.‫יְ ַכבּוּ ֶאת ַה ְשּׂ ֵר ָפה‬
2
Translation based on Koren Bible, Psalms 42:8. The poet adopted part of the second hemistiche as
the title of a 1972 selection of poems: Dahlia Ravikovitch, Kol mishberekha ve-galekha – All Thy Waves
and Thy Billows (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1972). Its titular poem is included in Tehom Kore’ as
well.
3
Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch translated the title this way in: Ravikovitch, “Deep Calleth Unto Deep,”
transl. Bloch and Bloch, The Window, 75.
4
Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld recently translate the title with a literal connotation in:
Ravikovitch, “Growing Poor,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 148.
5
Dahlia Ravikovitch, Me-rov ’ahava (Tel Aviv: Yediot Ahronot, Sefer Hemed, and Hakibbutz
Hameuchad, 1998).
146
Impoverishment
If I must be impoverished
let me be like a desolate land
If I must be impoverished
let me do it with pride.
Torah scrolls
are rescued from fire
not I.
Let me request
that if I die
I be like a shipwreck;
endless waters
will extinguish the blaze.
5.2
Poem Structure: Sense Units and Sound Units
Following the title, to which the chapter will later return, the poem appears in twelve
short lines. There are no stanza breaks. This feature calls on readers to relate to the
poem as an ongoing sequence or uninterrupted brushstroke; nevertheless, two sets of
internal divisions are discernible. One is composed of a set of sense divisions supported
by the punctuation. The internal units over which three periods preside are four lines,
three lines and five lines in length, respectively; the last unit is subdivided by virtue of a
semi-colon into units of three lines and two lines, respectively. The division is
represented graphically below:
‫רוֹשׁשׁ‬
ֵ ‫ִאם ְל ִה ְת‬
‫רוֹצה ְכּמוֹ ֶא ֶרץ ֲח ֵר ָבה‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
‫רוֹשׁשׁ‬
ֵ ‫ִאם ְל ִה ְת‬
.‫ַאוָה‬
ֲ ‫רוֹצה ְבּג‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
---------------------------------------------‫תּוֹרה‬
ָ ‫ִס ְפ ֵרי‬
‫ילים ִמן ָה ֵאשׁ‬
ִ ‫ַמ ִצּ‬
.‫אוֹתי לֹא‬
ִ
---------------------------------------------‫רוֹצה ְל ַב ֵקּשׁ‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
‫ֶשׁ ִאם אָמוּת‬
;‫רוּפה‬
ָ ‫ֶא ְהיֶה ָכּ ֳאנִ יָּה ְט‬
147
……………………
‫ַמיִ ם ֶשׁ ֵאין ָל ֶהם סוֹף‬
.‫יְ ַכבּוּ ֶאת ַה ְשּׂ ֵר ָפה‬
If I must be impoverished
let me be like a desolate land
If I must be impoverished
let me do it with pride.
_ ____________________
Torah scrolls
are rescued from fire
not I.
_ ____________________
Let me request
that if I die
I be like a shipwreck;
……………………………………..
endless waters
will extinguish the blaze.
In this scenario of apportionment the units grow shorter as the poem progresses. The
resulting accelerating speed propels readers purposefully onward. The speed
establishes a dynamic of urgency and escalating suspense. The syntactically awkward
structure of the opening sentence contributes to the suspense that permeates the
poem. It begins as a conditional sentence that repeats itself – “If … if …” and concludes
with a positive declaration, “let me do it with pride.” The complexity of the structure
piques our curiosity. We naturally seek to find out more about the context of this strange
resolve. An additional conditional “if” in the ninth line adds to the pervasive urgency.
Parallel to the three uses of “if” are three declarations of intent expressed as “’ani rotza”:
“let me be like a desolate land” in the second line; “let me do it with pride” in the fourth;
and “Let me request” in the eighth. These too impel readers onward until we reach what
at first glance appears to be a rather strange request on the part of the speaker: to be
like a shipwreck in the event of her death. The conditional sentence that raises the
148
contingency of the speaker’s death loads the suspense factor with the fiery danger
introduced in the fifth, sixth and seventh lines.
The sense unit formed of lines 5-7, in which the speaker negatively distinguishes her
status from that of Torah scrolls, severs the poem. It sunders all the ‘ifs’ from the
speaker’s request to perish as a shipwreck. In other words, this sense unit effects total
disjunction of the poem: it calls extra attention to itself as a central focus of the poem,
already a focal point by virtue of central structural placement.
A second scenario for the poem’s internal division is invited phonemically. The rhyme
scheme suggests three units, each four lines in length. Below is a graphic
representation:
A
‫אם להתרושש‬
B ‫אני רוצה כמו ארץ חרבה‬
A
‫אם להתרושש‬
B
.‫אני רוצה בגאוה‬
---------------------------------------------C
‫ספרי תורה‬
A
‫מצילים מן האש‬
D
.‫אותי לא‬
A
‫אני רוצה לבקש‬
---------------------------------------------E
B1
F
B1
‫שאם אמות‬
;‫אהיה כאניה טרופה‬
……………………
‫מים שאין להם סוף‬
.‫יכבו את השרפה‬
6
Phonemic elision of identical sibilants within the third sentence of the poem –
6
The notation “B1” in the rhyme scheme indicates the similarity of the labial phoneme /fa/ to its
counterpart /va/ designated “B”. B and B1 add a trace of approximate assonance.
149
le-vaqqesh with she’im, that spans the second and third units of the rhyme scheme,
creates an important phonemic lag in the rhythm of the language, akin to a musical
retard. The resulting drawn-out phoneme of the sibilant shin7 contributes simultaneously
to the phenomenon of delay and to the propulsion that unites the last two soundgoverned units of the poem. The delay both sparks curiosity and resonates
onomatopoetically with the earlier shin of ’esh
– fire. This in turn propels readers
onward. The delay also prompts concentration in two ways. It rivets our attention to the
poem’s middle section, both for its essential content and disjunctive function: it divides
the poem in two. It also readies us for the literary pyrotechnics in store. Their array will
become visible as intertextuality in an incendiary conclusion.
From an early reading of the poem we gather the basic premise that the speaker feels
pressed to ‘become impoverished’. On an emotional level she is weighing her options
for coping with the inevitable figurative ‘bankruptcy’ that will ‘finish her off’ in all
dimensions of being. In countenancing her death she would will herself to be ‘a
shipwreck’. She concludes with the projection that “boundless waters / will extinguish
the blaze.” On the one hand, her assertion is couched in calming and consoling
language; on the other, it is fraught with danger and destruction.
The basic content gives rise to many questions. Among them are questions pertaining
to the metaphors of: ‘to be impoverished’; ‘to be a shipwreck’ as ’oniya terufa connotes a
demolished ship; ‘boundless waters’; and ‘the blaze’. A journey into the classical Jewish
sources with which Dahlia Ravikovitch encrypts her poetry proves advantageous for
cracking her code of metaphors. This pursuit begins with a look at ships in Hebrew
Scriptures. It progresses to shipwreck, then scrolls on fire, then flames and water, and
thanatos at the heart of the sea.
7
Agi Mishol, a contemporary Hebrew poet, recalls Dahlia Ravikovitch’s sibilant pronunciation of the
letter shin in the context of a reading that Ravikovitch presented during a memorial ceremony to
honour her colleague, Yona Wallach and her work. See: Agi Mishol, “Ha-shin ha-shoreqet le-’ahava,”
Ha-’aretz: tarbut ve-sifrut, 30.9.05.
150
5.3
Impoverishment, Desolate Land and Sailing Away
This verbal self-portrait is laden with images. The opening exhibits unspecified
‘impoverishment’, and a ‘desolate land’; the middle pictures Torah scrolls burning; the
end exhibits a ship on fire – a ‘shipwreck’ in ‘endless waters’.
If I must be impoverished
let me be like a desolate land
[…]
Let me request
that if I die
I be like a shipwreck;
endless waters
will extinguish the blaze.
These initially enigmatic elements are the strongest brushstrokes of this self-portrait and
exegetical efforts are required to make sense of their composition and combination.
Ravikovitch whose poetry thrives on a biblical base8 turns to the books of Jonah and
Proverbs for ship imagery. She relates to a panegyric which concludes the book of
Proverbs, known as “A Valourous Woman”. In it a highly industrious figure is compared
inter alia to mercantile vessels which fetch choice goods from distant environs:
:‫סוֹחר ִמ ֶמּ ְר ָחק ָתּ ִביא ַל ְח ָמהּ‬
ֵ ‫ָהיְ ָתה ָכּ ֳא ִניּוֹת‬
:‫יה‬
ָ ‫יתהּ וְ חֹק ְל ַנ ֲער ֶֹת‬
ָ ‫ַתּ ֵתּן ֶט ֶרף ְל ֵב‬
ִ ‫ַתּ ָקם ְבּעוֹד ַליְ ָלה ו‬
ָ‫ו‬
9
:‫ָט ָעה ָכּ ֶרם‬
ְ ‫יה נטע נ‬
ָ ‫ַתּ ָקּ ֵחהוּ ִמ ְפּ ִרי ַכ ֶפּ‬
ִ ‫ָמ ָמה ָשׂ ֶדה ו‬
ְ‫ז‬
She is like the merchant ships: she brings her food from afar.
She rises also while it is yet night, and gives food to her household, and a
portion to her maidens.
She considers a field, and buys it: with the fruit of her hands she plants a
vineyard. 10
8
Mikulitzky (“Ha-tashtit ha-miqra’it,”43-63) traces numerous biblical elements underlying Ravikovitch’s
wording and phraseology. She points out examples of uses of hapax legomena, distinctive biblical
phrases and manipulated biblical morphology and syntax which she terms ‘biblicisms’.
9
Proverbs 31:14-16. Emphasis added.
10
Koren Bible, Proverbs 31:14. Emphasis added.
151
Despite the desire of the speaker of Hitrosheshut to be like a ship – ’oniya in Hebrew,
commercial import is not her intent. In Hitrosheshut we are faced with an inverted
allusion to the energetic figure of the Proverbs text. Whereas the individual in Proverbs
is active, productive, given to business acquisition and land development, the speaker
of Hitrosheshut is on the verge of complete ‘impoverishment’ – a literal, but not the only
possible, rendering of the poem’s title. Accordingly, she is aware that she will be like a
‘desolate land’ – ’eretz hareva.
In line with a literal connotation of the term “impoverishment” there are poems in the
corpus which refer directly to financial destitution. They echo the views of Ravikovitch
who believed that her country’s government needs to provide much more in the way of
financial support and income tax concessions to artists. An example is evident in the
candid exclamations of the speaker in the following excerpt of Parnasa [Livelihood;
Making a Living]:
.‫יכה ֵמאָה וְ ֶע ְשׂ ִרים ֶשׁ ֶקל ָח ָדשׁ‬
ָ ‫ ֲאנִ י ְצ ִר‬,‫ַל ֲעזָאזֵל ַה ִשּׁיר‬
[...]
‫יצה‬
ָ ‫ְל ֵשׁם ְמ ִל‬
.‫אוֹמ ִרים ַעל ַהיָּם ֶשׁ ֵאינֶנּוּ נָח‬
ְ
‫יעה‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י ֶאל ַהיָּם לֹא ַמ ִגּ‬
[...]
,‫כּי ַל ֲעזָאזֵל ַה ִשּׁיר וְ ָכל ֲא ֶשׁר בּוֹ‬
‫יכה ֵמאָה וְ ֶע ְשׂ ִרים ֶשׁ ֶקל ָח ָדשׁ‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י ְצ ִר‬
11
.‫אַחרוֹן‬
ֲ ‫ְבּ ֶח ְשׁבּוֹן‬
To hell with the poem, I need 120 New Shekels.
[…]
For the sake of poesy
one says of the sea that it never rests.
[…] I never make it to the sea,
[…]
Because to hell with the poem and all its rhymes.
I need 120 New Shekels,
that’s the bottom line.12
11
Ravikovitch, “Parnasa,” Kol ha-shirim, 204.
12
Ravikovitch, “Making a Living,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 165.
152
The impoverishment of Hitrosheshut comes across, by and large, figuratively as well. As
a ‘desolate land’ and a persona emotionally on fire the speaker resembles the biblical
description of Jerusalem following the destruction of its first temple (586 B.C.E.). The
combination is described in identical morphological terms – hareva and ’esh – desolate
and on fire, by Nehemiah:
‫ַחנוּ ָבהּ‬
ְ ‫אַתּם ר ִֹאים ָה ָר ָעה ֲא ֶשׁר ֲאנ‬
ֶ ‫אוֹמר ֲא ֵל ֶהם‬
ַ
‫יה נִ ְצּתוּ ָב ֵאשׁ‬
ָ ‫וּשׁ ָע ֶר‬
ְ ‫רוּשׁ ַלִם ֲח ֵר ָבה‬
ָ ְ‫ֲא ֶשׁר י‬
‫רוּשׁ ַלִם‬
ָ ְ‫חוֹמת י‬
ַ ‫ְלכוּ וְ נִ ְבנֶה ֶאת‬
13
:‫וְ לֹא נִ ְהיֶה עוֹד ֶח ְר ָפּה‬
Then I said to them, ‘You see our distress,
how Jerusalem lies desolate, and its gates go up in flames:
come and let us build up Jerusalem’s wall,
so that we no longer suffer shame.’14
Ravikovitch, well versed in bible, would have had the combination of hareva and ’esh
echoing in her ‘mind’s ear’ to draw upon in composing her poetry.
The persona of Hitrosheshut presents as the opposite of the figure lauded in Proverbs.
The latter is depicted at the height of self-possession and the highest compliment to pay
her would be to “Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her deeds praise her in the
gates.”15 She is surrounded by admiring, supportive family and community whereas the
persona of Hitrosheshut is apparently isolated and miserable. One who resembles a
‘desolate land’ and whose gates are metaphorically burning is not in a position to sprout
nutritious produce to sustain her own needs, let alone see to the provisions of her
spouse, children and retinue of support staff. She is certainly not in the league of the
‘woman of valour’ who has somehow acquired the real estate skills to appraise farmland
and the agricultural expertise to plant a flourishing vineyard. The intertextual pas de
deux of this poem and Proverbs is deliberately choreographed with its dancers back to
back.
13
Nehemiah 2:17. Emphasis added.
14
Translation based on Koren Bible, Nehemiah 2:17. Emphasis added.
15
Koren Bible, Proverbs 31:31.
153
A phonemic similarity between the word terufa – ‘torn apart’16 – the descriptor of the
ship, yet to be discussed as ’oniya terufa, and teref – the ‘fare’17 that the woman of
valour apportions for her assistants, adds an additional touch to the intertextual
connection raised. In and of itself, this similarity in sound seems incidental and is not
sufficient as a trigger for an intertextual connection. As an additional phonemic touch, it
shows Ravikovitch’s finesse with artistic detail. Further examples of Ravikovitch’s flair in
this regard will be seen in instances of metathesis and artful handling of verb roots. In
due course the poem analysis will spiral around for another examination of the use of
the root t.r.f. based on rabbinic literature.
The ship of all biblical ships is, of course, the seafaring vessel of the stowaway, Jonah:
:‫וַיְ ִהי ְדּ ַבר ה' ֶאל יוֹנָה ֶבן ֲא ִמ ַתּי ֵלאמֹר‬
:‫יה ִכּי ָע ְל ָתה ָר ָע ָתם ְל ָפנָי‬
ָ ‫וּק ָרא ָע ֶל‬
ְ ‫דוֹלה‬
ָ ‫קוּם ֵל ְך ֶאל נִ ינְ וֵה ָה ִעיר ַה ְגּ‬
‫ֵרד יָפוֹ וַיִּ ְמ ָצא ֲאנִ יָּה ָבּאָה ַת ְר ִשׁישׁ‬
ֶ ‫ישׁה ִמ ִלּ ְפנֵי ה' ַויּ‬
ָ ‫ָקם יוֹנָה ִל ְבר ַֹח ַתּ ְר ִשׁ‬
ָ ‫ַויּ‬
:'‫ישׁה ִמ ִלּ ְפנֵי ה‬
ָ ‫ֵרד ָבּהּ ָלבוֹא ִע ָמּ ֶהם ַתּ ְר ִשׁ‬
ֶ ‫וַיִּ ֵתּן ְשׂ ָכ ָרהּ ַויּ‬
18
:‫שּׁ ֵבר‬
ָ ‫דוֹלה ֶאל ַהיָּם וַיְ ִהי ַס ַער גָּדוֹל ַבּיָּם וְ ָה ֳא ִניָּה ִח ְשּׁ ָבה ְל ִה‬
ָ ‫רוּח ְגּ‬
ַ ‫וַה' ֵה ִטיל‬
Now the word of the Lord came to Jonah the son of Amitai, saying,
Arise, go to Nineve, that great city, and cry against it; for their
wickedness is come up before me. But Jonah rose up to flee to
Tarshish, from the presence of the Lord, and went down to Jaffa:
and he found a ship going to Tarshish: so he paid the fare of it,
and went down into it, to go with them to Tarshish from the presence
of the Lord. But the Lord hurled a great wind upon the sea, and there
was a mighty tempest in the sea, so that the ship seemed likely to be
wrecked.19
Gradually it grows apparent that the poem Hitrosheshut also dances an intertextual pas
de deux with the book of Jonah. Thematically, although not fully matched linguistically,
16
The term taruf, terufa often means ‘confused’, ‘mixed together’ or ‘tangled’. In some contexts, like this
reference, it means ‘torn apart’. For the latter meaning see: Rashi on BT ’Avoda zara 24b; and “taruf”
in: Even-Shoshan: ha-milon he-hadash, 2000 (9 volume edition) Vol. 3, 1127.
17
Literally the term teref means prey. Used metaphorically it means food or fare. See:“teref,” EvenShoshan: ha-milon he-hadash, 2000 (9 volume edition) Vol. 3, 1136.
18
Jonah 1:1-4. Emphasis added.
19
Translation based on Koren Bible, Jonah 1:1-4. Emphasis added.
154
the term for the shipwreck to which the persona ostensibly aspires – ’oniya terufa, and
the about to be shipwrecked Tarshish-bound ship of Jonah – ve-ha-’oniya hishva lehishaver, trigger an intertextual connection. The similarity of the schemes of the two
figures to alter their plights adds to the thematic connection. In another instance of
engineered phonemic similarity and as an added artistic touch to the intertextual
engagement, Ravikovitch employs assonance to best advantage. She sets off a playful
connection in and among word constructions built of the letters t.r.sh.: in the name of
the city Tarshish – a proper noun; in Jonah’s desire to go Tarshisha – with biblical
Hebrew’s characteristic use of the ‘directional hei’; and in the not altogether common
reflexive Hebrew infinitive le-hitroshesh – to be impoverished, as well as its gerund
hitrosheshut as title of the poem at hand.
Prior to delving into some of the models of escape that figure into Ravikovitch’s poetry, I
shall mention that the poem’s specific intertextual engagement with the book of Jonah
raises associations with themes of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. The book of
Jonah is the prophetic reading that complements the afternoon Torah reading of the
Yom Kippur service. The contents of the book raise questions of responsibility to
oneself, peers and God, as well as themes of escape, return and of repentance.
Gradually we shall see that there are additional Yom Kippur associations that this poem
evokes.
5.4
Additional Models of Escape
In terms of a desire to sail away from her lot in life, the persona is known in the oeuvre
for wanting to escape and for a desire to arrive somewhere else entirely. Sometimes her
‘Tarshish’ is like her utopian vision of New Zealand:
‫ילנְ ד‬
ַ ‫ִבּנְ יוּ ִז‬
‫ָמיִ ם‬
ַ ‫ַעל נְ אוֹת ֶדּ ֶשׁא ו‬
‫טוֹבי ֵלב‬
ֵ ‫ָשׁים‬
ִ ‫ֲאנ‬
20
.‫יִ ְפ ְרסוּ ִלי ִמ ַלּ ְח ָמם‬
20
Ravikovitch, “Shenei iyyim le-New Zealand,” Kol ha-shirim, 257-258.
155
In New Zealand
in green pastures, beside still waters,
kind-hearted folk
will break bread with me.21
The speaker’s vision of New Zealand as paradise is reinforced through allusion to the
idyllic imagery of Psalms 23, especially its green pastures mentioned in the poem as
ne’ot deshe’ and, by intertextual extension, to its conjured but unmentioned still waters:
22
:‫ַה ֵלנִ י‬
ֲ ‫יצנִ י ַעל ֵמי ְמנֻחוֹת יְ נ‬
ֵ ‫ַר ִבּ‬
ְ ‫ִבּנְ אוֹת ֶדּ ֶשׁא י‬
God makes me lie down in verdant places
And leads me beside still waters.23
Both topographical images are indirectly reminiscent of the features of the undeniably
beautiful, Eden-like landscape of the Babylonian exile, lush and luxuriant between its
two rivers, the Tigris and the Euphrates. The speaker’s contiguous reference to
breaking bread evokes the blessings surrounding ‘the breaking of bread’; some people
preface the weekday birkat ha-mazon following meals with a psalm which directly
recalls that landscape:
24
:‫ָכ ֵרנוּ ֶאת ִציּוֹן‬
ְ ‫ָשׁ ְבנוּ גַּם ָבּ ִכינוּ ְבּז‬
ַ ‫ַהרוֹת ָבּ ֶבל ָשׁם י‬
ֲ ‫ַעל נ‬
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept
upon remembering Zion.
All told, the persona’s utopia resembles New Zealand which resembles Babylon, land of
the Israelite exile. She would like nothing better than to escape the hotbed of her current
environment. She would gladly leave behind what she sees as the ‘failed experiment’ of
her milieu, its hairsplitting politics, the heartache of killings and throat-ache of shouted
demonstrations. She would willingly cross its boundaries and enter the beckoning exile:
21
Based on the translation of: Ravikovitch, “Two Isles Hath New Zealand,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld,
Hovering, 198-199.
22
Psalms 23:2.
23
Translation based on Koren Bible, Psalms 23:2.
24
Psalms 137 begins with the words “By the rivers of Babylon” and recalls its verdure.
156
‫ְכּ ָבר ֵאין עוֹד ַט ַעם ְל ַה ְס ִתּיר‬
‫ָפה‬
ֶ ‫ַחנוּ נִ ָסּיוֹן ֶשׁלֹּא ָע ָלה י‬
ְ ‫ֲאנ‬
,‫ָתּ ְכנִ ית ֶשׁנִּ ְשׁ ַתּ ְבּ ָשׁה‬
,‫רוּכה ְבּ ַר ְצ ָחנוּת ַר ָבּה ִמ ַדּי‬
ָ ‫ְכּ‬
‫וּמה ִלּי ֵמ ֵא ֶלּה‬
ַ ‫ַמה ִלּי ֵמ ֵא ֶלּה‬
ְ
‫צוֹר ִחים ַעד ְלגָרוֹן נִ ָחר‬
25
ָ ‫וּמ ַפ ְצּ ִלים ֻח ָדּהּ ֶשׁל ַשׂע‬
ְ
.‫ֲרה‬
No point in hiding it any longer:
We’re an experiment that went awry,
a plan that misfired,
tied up with too much murderousness.
Why should I care about this camp or that,
screaming till their throats are raw,
splitting fine hairs.26
Sometimes the persona’s projected ‘Tarshish’ leans more toward reaching a state of
mind:
‫יע ֶאל ְק ֵצה ַה ַמּ ְח ָשׁ ָבה‬
ַ ‫רוֹצה ְל ַה ִגּ‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
27
ָ ‫אשׁ‬
ִ ‫ֶשׁאַף ֵר‬
.‫יתהּ ְמ ַח ֶתּ ֶכת ְכּ ַס ִכּין‬
I want to arrive at the edge of thought
whose very beginning cuts like a knife.
Sometimes the speaker is inclined toward reaching the ‘Tarshish’ of a transcendent
metaphysical state of being:
‫ָמים ְמאֹד ַר ִבּים‬
ִ ‫ְבּעוֹד י‬
.‫ַפ ִשׁי‬
ְ ‫ֶא ְמ ָצא ֶאת ֶשׁ ִבּ ְק ָשׁה נ‬
‫ַפ ִשׁי‬
ְ ‫ֶא ְמ ָצא ִלי ֶאת ַשׁ ְלוַת נ‬
[...]
‫וּבית ִמדּוֹת ִלי יִ ָבּנֶה‬
ֵ
‫ִאם כֹּה יִ ֵתּן ִלי ֱאל ִֹהים‬
28
.‫סר‬
ֵ ‫ָתר בּוֹ וְ ָח‬
ֵ ‫וְ ֵאין י‬
25
Ravikovitch, “Shenei iyyim le-New Zealand,” [“Two Isles Has New Zealand,”] Kol ha-shirim, 257-258.
26
Ravikovitch, “Two Isles Hath New Zealand,’ transl. Bloch and Chana, Hovering, 198-199.
27
Ravikovitch, “Ha-ma‘arav ha-kahol,” [“The Blue West,”] Kol ha-shirim, 75-76.
28
Ravikovitch, “Be-shivhei ha-shalva,” [“In Praise of Tranquility,”] Kol ha-shirim, 38.
157
Ages from now
I shall find my soul’s desire.
I shall find my soul’s serenity.
[…]
Let a sanctuary be built for me
if thus will grant me God
with nothing spare nor missing there.
In seeking the transcendence of this serene sanctuary for her soul the speaker seeks a
metaphysical nirvana. At the same time, she projects certain escapes in rather concrete
terms. In Hitrosheshut for example, the escape is presented in a very concrete simile:
shipwreck. The simile nevertheless points the way to a figurative desire:
‫רוֹצה ְל ַב ֵקּשׁ‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
‫ֶשׁ ִאם אָמוּת‬
;‫רוּפה‬
ָ ‫ֶא ְהיֶה ָכּ ֳאנִ יָּה ְט‬
‫ַמיִ ם ֶשׁ ֵאין ָל ֶהם סוֹף‬
.‫יְ ַכבּוּ ֶאת ַה ְשּׂ ֵר ָפה‬
Let me request
that if I die
I be like a shipwreck;
endless waters
will extinguish the blaze.
The speaker wants to flee life on earth. Her exodus is not confined to a serene
departure as one might imagine a ship sailing smoothly upon the waters. Instead, the
persona projects a tempestuous conclusion as a burning shipwreck. Both flames and
water prompt another consideration of the poem’s associations with themes of the Day
of Atonement, in fact of the entire period of the Ten Days of Repentance. The High Holy
Day liturgy is replete with prayers calling attention to our relationships with God and to
our own mortality, as well as the influential sway of repentance, prayer and acts of
righteousness. Segments of the liturgy remind us that during the coming year some of
us will perish, as God contemplates “who shall live and who shall die […] who shall
perish by fire and who by water […] who by earthquake and who by plague […] who
158
shall be tranquil and who shall be disturbed; who shall be at ease and who shall be
afflicted …”29
The speaker of Hitrosheshut projects that she will meet her end in both flames and
water. We already know she is ‘afflicted’ with love and we shall soon see why she
knows that tranquility and ease will not be her final lot. En route, I shall attend to the
concrete nautical façade which initially masks some significant conceptual issues. They
are explored below in Segment 5.5.
5.5
From Ships to Shipwreck in Boundless Waters
A search for a close linguistic match for the shipwreck of Hitrosheshut leads beyond
biblical sources to rabbinic texts as well. The following segment of the chapter
investigates a text rich in sources for the intertextually-motivated image of a shipwreck
in endless waters. Segment 5.6 will address the flames.
In bYevamot 121a, rabbinic literature furnishes a reference to sefina mitarefet in– a ship
linguistically similar to the poem’s ’oniya terufa – a boat being demolished. The similarity
is in part thematic as both the poem and the rabbinic literature refer to seafaring craft.
As well, the similarity is morphological in terms of the shared verb root t.r.f The
reference to the ship appears in an aggadic narrative in tannaitic material embedded in
a talmudic legal text which, itself, not incidentally, also raises a setting of mayim she-‘ein
lahem sof – boundless waters. Ravikovitch could well have accessed the midrashic
material through her own textual studies or through familiarity with a popular
compendium of midrashic materials. A well known example of the latter is called Sefer
ha-aggada, a digest of midrashic literature. Compiled years ago by Bialik and Ravnitsky,
it is a staple secondary source that has remained a greatly beloved midrashic ‘read’ of
Hebrew speakers for generations.30 Below are the relevant excerpts directly from the
primary source in Yevamot. A full version of the text is presented in Appendix A.
29
“Be-rosh ha-shana yikatevun u-ve-yom tzom kippur yehatemun,” High Holiday Prayerbook, ed. Morris
Silverman (New York: The Prayer Book Press, 1967) 148; 358.
30
H.N. Bialik and Y.H. Ravnitsky, Sefer ha-aggada: mivhar ha-aggadot she-ba-talmud u-va- midrashim
(Tel Aviv: Devir, third edition 1948).
159
- ‫ בין שיש להם סוף בין שאין להם סוף‬,‫ נפל למים‬:‫ תנו רבנן‬.‫גמרא‬
- ‫ מים שיש להם סוף‬:‫ דברי רבי מאיר; וחכמים אומרים‬,‫אשתו אסורה‬
[…] .‫ אשתו אסורה‬- ‫ ושאין להם סוף‬,‫אשתו מותרת‬
‫ פעם אחת הייתי מהלך בספינה וראיתי ספינה‬:‫ אמר רבן גמליאל‬,‫תניא‬
[...]‫ והייתי מצטער על תלמיד חכם שבה‬,‫אחת שנשברה‬
‫ פעם אחת הייתי מהלך בספינה וראיתי ספינה‬:‫ אמר רבי עקיבא‬,‫תניא‬
31
[...] .‫ והייתי מצטער על תלמיד חכם שבה‬,‫אחת שמטרפת בים‬
Gemara: Our rabbis taught [as follows regarding a situation in which]
a man fell into a body of water. Whether or not the body of water
is boundless, it is prohibited for his wife to marry, in the opinion
of Rabbi Meir. And the Sages said: If it is a visibly delineated
body of water – the woman may marry; if it is a body of boundless
waters – the woman is prohibited from marrying. […]
[Baraita:] It was taught that Rabban Gamliel said: Once I was
travelling along on a boat, and saw another boat which was wrecked,
and I felt sorry for the sage who was in it […]
[Baraita] It was taught that Rabbi Akiva said: Once I was travelling along
on a boat, and saw another boat which being wrecked in the sea,
and I felt sorry for the sage who was in it [...]32
The primary source is a talmudic sugya or sequence in the Babylonian Talmud. The
sequence unfolds a consideration of the legal situation of women married to men who
have disappeared into ‘boundless waters’.33
31
bYevamot 121a.
32
The passage begins with mishnaic legal material pertaining to the marriage prohibition outlined above.
A dispute among sages irons out a wrinkle: the resolution is that the prohibition applies only in cases
of ‘boundless waters’, not in cases involving bodies of waters whose shores are all visible from a
single vantage point. If a man who has entered the latter is not seen to surface, it is presumed that he
has drowned and his spouse is free to marry without fear of committing adultery, in light of a lack of
divorce documentation. The sequence continues with the talmud’s amoraic discussion of the tannaitic
material. This sequence incorporates both reported legal discussion and aggadic material. The latter is
cited in the form of two consecutive tannaitic baraitot.
33
In Hebrew, the term for ‘boundless waters’ is mayim she-‘ein lahem sof – literally waters that have no
end. The term is defined as: “The water of the sea or large river whose edges are not visible from all
sides. He who drowns in ‘water without end’, it is forbidden for his wife to marry, lest he have surfaced
on the other side without being seen, as its shores are not visible from all directions.”
Translation based on the definition in: Hevruta la-lomed: taqlitor shel Bar Ilan, proyeqt ha-shut, girsa 2.
160
The baraitot34 cited in the extended text employs the terms sefina ahat she-nishbera – a
boat that was wrecked, and sefina mitarefet – a tempest tossed ship that is in the
process of being wrecked. Both are germane to the discussion of the poem at hand.
First, the setting of the talmudic sequence offers an easily identifiable contextual
connection for readers to associate with Ravikovitch’s choice of poetic wording: mayim
she-‘ein lahem sof – ‘boundless waters’. Second, the two cited baraitot offer thematic
associations in the form of seafaring vessels: the first is already broken down; the
second is in the process of being demolished. Third, in addition to the contextual and
thematic overlap, the two baraitot offer linguistic links to ships in our active memory as
readers, one indirect and one direct.
The boat of the former baraita, sefina ’ahat she-nishbera – a wrecked boat, ties in
linguistically with Jonah’s ship which was threatening imminent wreckage – ve-ha-’oniya
hishva le-hishaver, by virtue of the shared verb root sh.b.r. As shown, Ravikovitch’s
water-craft is associated with that of Jonah: this may be considered a thematic link with
one degree of separation. More direct connections exist between Ravikovitch’s
shipwreck and the one in progress in the latter baraita. One is thematic. The second is
linguistic owing to the direct parallel of each verb to the root t.r.f: Ravikovitch writes of
’oniya terufa and the baraita tells of sefina mitarefet. The intertextual process thus
quickens.
Not content to choreograph a pas de deux, trois or quatre for the poem and Proverbs,
Jonah and Yevamot, Ravikovitch works out intricate dance variations for additional
intertextual partners as this chapter will soon show in an examination of flames and
waters.
34
Baraitot (singular: baraita) refer to external tannaitic texts cited, such as Tosefta. These texts are
derived from the layer of language and literature parallel to the tannaitic material of the internal
mishnaic material. See Appendix A for a fuller version of the baraitot in this talmudic sequence.
161
5.6
(i)
Scrolls on Fire
Persona as ‘Marginal’
Having pursued the metaphors of ‘impoverishment’ through biblical sources and the
motif of ships in rabbinic sources, this segment continues to navigate the sea of
classical Jewish texts to fathom the intertextual resonance of ‘Torah scrolls’ and ‘the
blaze’. The contextual sense of the poem imparts that the persona is on fire. The
speaker calls attention to this fact in the central section of the poem that sunders the
remainder of the text. She contrasts her status to that of holy Torah scrolls which people
must rescue from flames of disaster:
Torah scrolls
are rescued from fire
not I.
In pointing out that Torah scrolls are rescued from flames the speaker establishes a
foundation with which to contrast her own status. She contributes to the foundation by
kindling allusions to legal and aggadic material in classical Jewish sources concerning
the care and treatment of Torah scrolls. The tractate mYadayim legislates that touching
the margins of sacred Torah scrolls renders people’s hands ritually impure.35 The
speaker identifies with those edges; she feels ‘marginal’ and marginalized. The tosefta
for mShabbat provides a legal case which requires rescue for Torah scrolls in the event
that they fall into an oven.36 The speaker knows she is not in the same league: people
do not rush to rescue her physically.
The speaker also conveys an awareness that God is not likely to deliver her soul. The
symbolic use that the poet makes of Torah scrolls to be rescued from fire suggests her
35
mYadayim 3:4. Margins include the upper and lower blank strips and the blank sides once they have
been wrapped around their rollers. The discussion takes places within the larger consideration of that
which renders teruma – the priests’ due – ritually unfit.
36
Tosefta Shabbat 13:6. The case also discusses the disposition of teruma.
162
recognition that her soul is not in the same league as those of certain sages37 to whom
God attended. Narrative material toward the end of Sifrei Deuteronomy,38 for example,
tells of such sages. The narrative links the motifs of Torah scrolls and flames to Rabbi
Hanina ben Teradyon and his wife whose deaths are decreed. Their daughter is
sentenced to a life of prostitution. Rabbi Hanina ben Teradyon is to be immolated along
with his Torah scroll. In a metaphoric reading one can imagine the soul of the sage
enwrapped in his scroll. All three figures manage to pronounce select Scriptures which
endear their souls to God; God recognizes their utterances for the purposes of tzidduq
ha-din – theodicy. We can infer that their souls will be safe. By contrast, Ravikovitch’s
persona suspects hers will not.
Through these allusions the speaker represents herself metaphorically as ‘other’ than
Torah scroll, ‘other’ than sacred: she presents herself as ‘marginal’ and ritually unfit. In
excluding herself from human rescue and divine acceptance the speaker acknowledges
her status as distant from people and God and alienated from the world of Torah. Her
feelings of estrangement permeate the entire poem.
(ii)
Persona as ‘Other’
In presenting her as ‘other’ Ravikovitch fashions a persona who resembles Elisha ben
Abuya who became known as ’Aher – ‘Other’.39 In this context, Ravikovitch subtly
incorporates hints of the talmudic tractate of Hagiga. A baraita quoted in both
Babylonian and Jerusalem versions of Talmud, recounts a metaphorical journey he
37
The deaths of these sages who sanctify God’s name rather than transgress divine commandments is
of the nature recounted in the Martyrology segment of the High Holy Day liturgy. In this way the
speaker of the poem encrypts yet another association with the themes of repentance and relationship
with God and her inability to attain either.
38
Sifrei Deut.Parashat Ha’azinu, pisqa 307 in: Sifrei ‘al Sefer Devarim ‘im hilufei girsa’ot ve-he‘arot me’et
Finkelstein. Nidpas la-rishon be-Berlin: Hotza’at ha-aguda ha-tarbutit ha-yehudit be-Germanya, 1909.
Reprinted in Israel: Beit ha-midrash la-rabbanim she-be-America, 2001. 346. Hencefoth: Finkelstein,
Sifrei Deut.
39
I thank Professor Harry Fox for suggesting an investigation of pardes – the ‘orchard narrative’ cited in
the Talmud. The similarities between Ravikovitch’s persona as ‘marginalized’ or ‘other’ and Elisha ben
Abuya, known by the epithet ‘Other’, enrich this analysis of Hitrosheshut.
163
takes along with three additional sages into an orchard of mysticism. The text tells of the
fates with which each meets:
.‫ ורבי עקיבא‬,‫ אחר‬,‫ ובן זומא‬,‫ בן עזאי‬:‫ ואלו הן‬,‫ ארבעה נכנסו בפרדס‬:‫תנו רבנן‬
!‫ כשאתם מגיעין אצל אבני שיש טהור אל תאמרו מים מים‬:‫אמר להם רבי עקיבא‬
‫ עליו הכתוב יקר‬,‫ בן עזאי הציץ ומת‬.‫משום שנאמר דובר שקרים לא יכון לנגד עיני‬
‫ ועליו הכתוב אומר דבש מצאת‬,‫ בן זומא הציץ ונפגע‬.‫בעיני ה' המותה לחסידיו‬
40
.‫ רבי עקיבא יצא בשלום‬.‫ אחר קיצץ בנטיעות‬.‫אכל דיך פן תשבענו והקאתו‬
Our Rabbis taught: Four people entered ‘the orchard’, and these are they:
ben Azzai and ben Zoma, Aher and Rabbi Akiva. Rabbi Akiva said to
them: When you arrive at the stones of pure marble, do not say ‘water,
water!’ For it is said: One who speaks falsehood shall not be established
before my eyes. Ben Azzai peeked and died. Of him Scriptures say:
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of the Lord’s devoted ones.
Ben Zoma peeked and became injured. Of him Scriptures say: If you find
honey, eat just enough, lest you become overly sated with it, and
vomit it. Aher ‘mutilated the shoots’. Rabbi Akiva departed unhurt.
The text conveys euphemistically that of the four sages, Elisha ben Abuya becomes an
apostate. Several texts which follow the change in the behaviours and beliefs of ’Aher,
show Elisha ben Abuya as a ‘marginal’ fellow with one foot in the rabbinic legal system
and one foot outside its bounds. More than one text ends with Rabbi Meir trying to
persuade his teacher to ‘return’.41 For example, in one baraita Rabbi Meir continues to
seek his master’s teachings. He accompanies his teacher on foot for a great distance
on the Sabbath to learn at his side. Elisha ben Abuya who has dispensed with Sabbath
observance is on horseback. When the two near the prescribed limits of sabbatical
journey, Elisha ben Abuya directs his disciple to turn back. Rabbi Meir attempts to get
his teacher to ‘return’ as well. The sage’s reply is telling:
.‫ אף אתה חזור בך‬:‫אמר ליה‬
‫ כבר שמעתי מאחורי הפרגוד‬:‫ ולא כבר אמרתי לך‬:‫אמר ליה‬
42
.‫ חוץ מאחר‬- ‫שובו בנים שובבים‬
40
bHagiga 14b. yHagiga 2:1, 77b. The Babylonian and Jerusalem talmudim reverse the fates of ben
Azai and ben Zoma.
41
There are three such instances connected to three vignettes in bHagiga 15a.
42
This vignette is one of the instances, loc. cit.
164
43
Rabbi Meir said to him: You, too, go back!
Aher said to him: Have I not already told you?! I have already
heard from behind the Veil: ‘Return, you backsliding children’ —
except for Aher.
Elisha ben Abuya is conscious that he has already incontrovertibly breached certain
frontiers. He contends that he has been definitively eschewed by God. As readers we
can imagine him continuing to ride onward, beyond the margin of sanctioned limits,
literally and metaphorically. He is highly aware of his ‘otherness’.
Ravikovitch’s poem resourcefully engages Elisha ben Abuya of Hagiga, his status as
‘Other’ and articulation of ineligibility to repent. Ravikovitch’s persona is similarly aware
that she has tasted the fruit of ‘other frontiers’ and is at the point of no return. Both
figures travel deliberately beyond the limens of sanctity. In a succinct contemporary
version of Elisha ben Abuya’s pronouncement, the persona contrasts herself to sacred
scrolls whose rescue is mandated, flatly stating “not I.”
5.7
Flames and Waters
The origin of the persona’s flames derives from her acute affliction with love,
comparable to that of the female lover of Song of Songs who also sings of fire:
‫אַה ָבה ָק ָשׁה ִכ ְשׁאוֹל ִקנְ אָה‬
ֲ ‫[ ִכּי ַעזָּה ַכ ָמּוֶת‬...]
:‫יה ִר ְשׁ ֵפּי ֵאשׁ ַשׁ ְל ֶה ֶב ְתיָה‬
ָ ‫ְר ָשׁ ֶפ‬
‫פוּה‬
ָ ‫אַה ָבה וּנְ ָהרוֹת לֹא יִ ְשׁ ְט‬
ֲ ‫יוּכלוּ ְל ַכבּוֹת ֶאת ָה‬
ְ ‫ַמיִ ם ַר ִבּים לֹא‬
44
:‫אַה ָבה בּוֹז יָבוּזוּ לוֹ‬
ֲ ‫ִאם יִ ֵתּן ִאישׁ ֶאת ָכּל הוֹן ֵבּיתוֹ ָבּ‬
[…] for love is fierce as death,
Passion is mighty as She’ol,
Its darts, darts of fire,
Godflame.
Mighty waters would not suffice to extinguish the love,
Nor rivers drown it.
Were one to offer his entire fortune for love,
He would be ridiculed to shame.45
43
The Hebrew imperative hazor bakh – “Go back!” carries the sense of “Repent!”
44
Song of Songs 8:6-7.
45
Based on translation in JPS Tanakh, Song of Songs 8:6-7.
165
Chapter Two shows that the speaker is aware that she is smouldering. Chapter Three
shows that she suffers from conditions of love in unsuitable proportions. She
experiences love as a makka – an affliction that smites as surely as a plague. Chapter
Two shows that the persona’s Ariadne’s thread, wound about metaphorically with
‘sweet-delicacies and apples’, is steeped in ‘vanilla’. A dearth of love on the receiving
end leaves her ill at ease, physically uncomfortable, needy and craving ‘vanilla’. An
excess of the wrong kind of love, ‘mistaken’ love verging on idolatry places her in
danger of being burned, as in Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur.46 A surfeit of love on the
giving end, of which she wishes to be rid, poses the threat of instant combustion. The
persona’s Ariadne’s thread is a filament leading to fire. Owing to the direction of her ‘out
of bounds’ love read on one level as apostasy and absence of divine love, the speaker
of Hitrosheshut is already in flames.
In Hitrosheshut the persona shows the degree to which her personal flames have
escalated and the urgent call for copious waters to extinguish them. To do so she
harnesses the wording of Song of Songs 8:7 regarding love, fire and water with some
minor, yet significant, adjustments to its elements; she simultaneously presses into
service the “boundless waters” of bYevamot 121a. Rather than “Mighty waters would not
suffice to extinguish the love” as in the Song of Songs, her variation reads: “Endless
waters will extinguish the blaze” or “Let endless waters extinguish the blaze.”
The speaker applies her version to the blaze-who-is-herself suffering from a condition of
love and contextual equivalent to the fire of love. Whereas the mighty waters of Song of
Songs are insufficient and ineffective in the face of love-fire, in Hitrosheshut waters
exponentially more copious than those mighty waters are summoned to exert their
effect on the love-blaze. A vertically arranged graphic juxtaposition of the corresponding
elements is provided below. The effect of their interaction is central to the impact of the
principal motifs of the poem.
46
See Chapter 2, n. 72 regarding errant love and idolatry.
166
.‫אַה ָבה‬
ֲ ‫ֶאת ָה‬
↕
.‫ֶאת ַה ְשּׂ ֵר ָפה‬
‫לֹא יוּכלוּ ְל ַכבּוֹת‬
↕
‫יְ ַכבּוּ‬
Song: Mighty waters
‫ ַמיִ ם ַר ִבּים‬:‫שיר השירים‬
↕
‫ַמיִ ם ֶשׁ ֵאין ָל ֶהם סוֹף‬
:‫התרוששות‬
would not suffice to extinguish
↕
Hitrosheshut: Boundless/endless waters
↕
will extinguish
the love.
↕
the blaze.
With the adjustments to wording, the persona succeeds in painting an exponential
increase in the mighty waters of Song of Songs and their dousing capacities. Also by
token of exponential increase, the flames of love have been fanned with poetic bellows
to the proportions of a raging conflagration. Another of Ravikovitch’s artistic linguistic
touches becomes evident through metathesis: reshafim – ‘darts of fire’ [r.sh.f.] have
become a serefa – a three-alarm fire [s.r.f.].
Hitrosheshut further develops its intertextual dance with the cited verses of Song of
Songs. The persona would give anything to be rid of her love-fire. Despite derision ‘to
shame’ she would offer her ‘entire fortune’ and leave herself ‘impoverished’ in order to
be rid of her love-fire. Sadly, she knows that the gesture would be to no avail. Alas she
must seek another solution through death in endless waters.
In uncovering another layer of a reading that perceives the persona as ready to give all
in order to divest herself of her love-fire with no regard for potential shame, I recall a
related midrash in Shir ha-shirim rabba. Dahlia Ravikovitch’s textual familiarity with bible
and midrash would have extended to this source directly or through commentaries or
compendium. This midrash is outlined below. It functions to extend the interplay
between the poem and text of the Song of Songs.
Shir ha-shirim rabba provides a set of five patterned midrashic texts connected to the
Song of Songs 8:7: “Were one to offer his entire fortune for love, he would be ridiculed
to shame.” The basic pattern views five subjects, mostly sages, who go to great lengths
or expense to be involved in labours of love to live a life of Torah. None of the subjects
is deterred by derision. Each is persistent. The import of the given set of midrashic texts
is, in the assessment of Jacob Neusner, “that the compiler has assembled them to
167
make his point which is the intense love that God has for Israel, through the Torah,
realized in its sages […]”47
The final midrash of the set pictures the bier of Rabbi Oshaia of Teriyya as airborne.
This talmudic trope reserved for the select few suggests a movement heavenward upon
death: Rabbi Oshaia is drawn upward in approval and acknowledgement by God.
Fittingly the midrash concludes with the report that the generation of Rabbi Oshaia of
Teriyya connected the recitation of the verse “Were one to offer his entire fortune for
love […]” to their mentor.
In an extension of the poem’s intertextual engagement with the biblical source of the
Song of Songs the persona of Hitrosheshut constructs her self as the antithesis to Rabbi
Oshaia of Song of Songs Rabba. Her composition of self is antithetical in terms of
human and divine esteem as is her soul’s potential to be retrieved lovingly, upon death,
by God. She presents as feeling entirely estranged from either human or divine care or
acceptance. The speaker feels so estranged that she projects the circumstances of her
own death as the opposite of a bier floating peacefully heavenward. Rather than calm
ascent she envisions a fiery, tempestuous descent to the watery depths:
Let me request
that if I die
I be like a shipwreck;
endless waters
will extinguish the blaze.
The derision of peers or public would not deter the speaker from giving her entire
fortune to the point of ‘impoverishment’ to rid herself of her love-fire. For her, the
ultimate projection of release is that “boundless waters will extinguish the blaze.”
The constellation of motifs that includes fire, water, flame, ship, love and extinguishment
recurs consistently in the poetic corpus. The only variable of consequence applies to
degree. In the following poem, for example, several bodies of water are conscripted by
47
Jacob Neusner, Song of Songs Rabbah: An Analytical Translation (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989) Vol.
2, 226.
168
name to form ‘mighty waters’ to douse the unnamed ‘darts of love’ from which the
speaker suffers. In the process of rifling through her clothing pile the speaker has
managed to stir up the discomfort of a terminated relationship with a lover. She requires
relief.
‫אַה ָבה ֲאנִ י ְמ ַב ֶקּ ֶשׁת‬
ֲ ‫לֹא‬
‫ַרק ַמיִ ם ַר ִבּים‬
‫ֹאשׁי‬
ִ ‫ֵמ ַעל ְלר‬
.‫אַה ָבה‬
ֲ ‫ֶשׁיְּ ַכבּוּ ֶאת ָה‬
‫ימי ַהיָּם ַה ִתּיכוֹן‬
ֵ ‫ָכּל ֵמ‬
‫וְ ַהיָּם ָהאָדֹם וְ ַהיָּם ַה ָשּׁחוֹר‬
48
.‫ֵהם ַמיִ ם ֶשׁל ַשׁ ְלוָה‬
It’s not love that I seek
just mighty waters
above my head
that will extinguish the love.
All the waters of the Mediterranean Sea,
And the Red Sea and the Black Sea
they are waters of tranquility.
In the excerpt above the persona summons ‘mighty waters’. On one level she beckons
them to provide her with the much needed relief of equanimity that sounds suicidally
permanent. On another level the speaker knows in her heart of hearts that ‘mighty
waters’ will afford her temporary relief at best. Since ‘mighty waters’ are apparently
insufficient to quench love, as asserted in the Song of Songs 8:7, the intertextual
consequence is that the best she can hope for is a brief reprieve potentially followed by
a form of recovery or retrieval. Congruently, in one of their biblical contexts the words
‘mighty waters’ resonate with the undefeated tone of the revived Psalmist who
celebrates deliverance at the hand of God:
49
:‫ַמ ֵשׁנִ י ִמ ַמּיִ ם ַר ִבּים‬
ְ ‫יִ ְשׁ ַלח ִמ ָמּרוֹם יִ ָקּ ֵחנִ י י‬
God reached down from on high, God took me;
God drew me out of the mighty waters.50
48
Ravikovitch, “Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora,” Monsoon, 42-45.
49
Psalms 18:17.
169
On at least one level the speaker of Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora,51
knows that life can somehow go on. In Hitrosheshut, however, the persona is fully on
fire. She is a shipwreck. She is not prone to rescue. What choice has she for relief but
to see herself-the-shipwreck through to finality in the ‘boundless waters’ of the deep?
This poem provides a view of the lovelorn persona unequivocally beckoning thanatos.
5.8
(i)
Beckoning Thanatos at the Heart of the Sea
Maritime Venue
The speaker, deeply estranged from people and divine care, plans her own demise. In
her choice of venue she makes a statement that relates inversely to God’s sphere of
influence.
The scripturally-acknowledged parameters of God’s influence appear in a midrash. It
elucidates the purported reason for Jonah’s selection of the sea as scene of flight from
fulfilment of the divine mission. The rabbinic thought in Midrash Tanhuma posits the
following:
,‫ אם אעלה לשמים‬.‫ אני בורח מלפניו למקום שאין שם כבודו‬,‫אמר יונה‬
,‫ שם כבודו‬,‫ ואם על הארץ‬,(‫ד‬:‫ שנאמר על השמים כבודו )תהלים קיג‬,‫שם כבודו‬
.‫ שאין נאמר שם כבודו‬,‫ הריני בורח לים‬,(‫ג‬:‫שנאמר מלא כל ארץ כבודו )ישעיה ו‬
‫ והאניה שירד בה יונה היתה רחוקה‬.‫ירד ליפו ולא מצא שם אניה לירד‬
52
.‫ לנסות את יונה‬,‫מיפו מהלך שני ימים‬
Jonah said: I am fleeing from before God to a place where God’s glory is
absent. If I were to flee to the Heavens, God’s glory is present there, [for it is
(said) written in Scriptures]: ‘God’s glory is above the heavens’ (Psalms
123:4). And as for upon the land, God’s glory is there, for it is (said) [written
in Scriptures]: ‘The entire earth is filled with God’s glory’ (Isaiah 6:3). I am
hereby fleeing to the sea, for nothing is said of God’s glory there. Jonah
went down to Jaffa and did not find a ship there to board. The ship which
he ultimately boarded was at a distance of two days’ journey from Jaffa,
to test Jonah.
50
Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Psalms 18:17.
51
Ravikovitch, “Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora,” Monsoon, 42-45.
52
Midrash Tanhuma, Parashat Va-yiqra, 8.
170
Midrash Tanhuma elucidates the reasoning conceived for Jonah’s choice of escape on
the high sea, as opposed to land or air. In rabbinic thought Jonah chooses the sea as
his escape route as it is the only setting over which the glory of God’s influence is not
biblically extolled. His choice is made ostensibly in order to take responsibility for his
own resistance to the mission, rather than to give direct offence to God.
Ravikovitch’s persona chooses the sea as site of her death for reasons of
estrangement. As an individual who feels marginalized in life, she will cross a boundary
in order to be beyond God’s reach. Like Elisha ben Abuya who exits the limens of
sanctity, she knows full well that there is to be no turning back.
(ii)
Estranged in Life; Soul After Death
In poems across the oeuvre the persona’s outlook fluctuates over whether to expect
divine acceptance of her soul after her death. Below are examples illustrating her
thinking at disparate points along the continuum of her vacillation.
There are indications that the persona hopes that her soul will cleave to God after her
death, although such is not stated in so many words. At times she expresses this desire
for devequt or ‘fusion’ known in qabbala with a motif used frequently by the medieval
Hebrew poets of al-Andalus. In keeping with Platonic philosophy, the medievalists
envisioned the soul created by God as aching to be freed of its confinement in the body
and its earthly appetites. The soul was imagined as yearning to soar upward like a bird,
to bond in its purity with God.53 Along these lines Ravikovitch writes:
‫ָלמוּת ְכּמוֹ ָר ֵחל‬
‫רוֹע ֶדת ַכּ ִצּפוֹר‬
ֶ ‫ֶפשׁ‬
ֶ ‫ְכּ ֶשׁ ַהנּ‬
.‫רוֹצה ְל ִה ָמּ ֵלט‬
ָ
[...]
‫ָלמוּת ְכּמוֹ ָר ֵחל‬
54
.‫רוֹצה‬
ָ ‫ֲאנִ י‬
53
Plato’s Phaedo, 67a-e, in Plato: The Collected Dialogues, Including the Letters, eds. Edith Hamilton
and Huntington Cairns (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1961), 49-50.
54
Ravikovitch, “Kemo rahel,” Kol ha-shirim, 190-191.
171
To die like Rachel
when the soul shudders like a bird,
wants to break free.
[…]
To die like Rachel,
is what I want.55
There are also indications in the oeuvre that the persona is beset with doubt about a
reunion of her soul with God. In Be-shivhei ha-shalva56 previously cited, the speaker
yearns to find this ‘one whom her soul has sought’, ‘the one whom her soul has loved’.
She is prepared to go to great lengths to construct a sanctuary for the union of her soul
with this being. Despite the anticipation and projected desire, there is an eerie
imbalance that destabilizes the crafted symmetry and parallelisms of the remainder of
the poem: at the heart of the holy of holies constructed in the speaker’s soul, there is no
beckoning call to the ‘the one whom her soul has sought’, nor any response:
57
‫קוֹרא אַף ֵאין עוֹנֶה‬
ֵ ‫בּוֹ ֵאין‬
Within there is no appeal, nary a response
I would venture that the same part of Ravikovitch’s psyche that identifies with Elisha ben
Abuya as Aher, knows exactly what accounts for the paired symmetry and exactly what
precipitates its imbalance. For background I refer here to one of the vignettes following
the pardes or ‘orchard narrative’. Elisha ben Abuya quizzes his disciple on the meaning
of a reference to the following scriptural source:
58
... ‫ֻמּת זֶה ָע ָשׂה ָה ֱאל ִֹהים‬
ַ ‫וּביוֹם ָר ָעה ְר ֵאה[ גַּם ֶאת זֶה ְלע‬
ְ ‫טוֹבה ֱהיֵה ְבטוֹב‬
ָ ‫] ְבּיוֹם‬
[In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in the day of adversity consider:]
God has made the one as well as the other.59
55
Ravikovitch, “Like Rachel,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering,156-157.
56
Ravikovitch, “Be-shivhei ha-shalva,” Kol ha-shirim, 38.
57
58
Loc. cit.
Qohelet 7:14. The introductory part of the verse is supplied for context in square parentheses.
172
The disciple attenuates his learning by restricting his answers to examples of God’s
paired formations in the natural world consisting of larger and smaller versions of the
same creations: mountains and hills, seas and rivers. Elisha ben Abuya reproves him
and points out that he should have responded with the inverse symmetrical pairs taught
by Rabbi Akiva. These are shown below. Prior to the familiar attempt of the disciple to
get his master to repent, with the stock ending in which Elisha ben Abuya expresses the
knowledge that God rejects him and his repentance, the teacher outlines the sets and
the related consequences:
.‫ ברא גיהנם‬- ‫ ברא גן עדן‬,‫ ברא רשעים‬- ‫ברא צדיקים‬
,‫ אחד בגן עדן ואחד בגיהנם‬,‫כל אחד ואחד יש לו שני חלקים‬
,‫ נטל חלקו וחלק חברו בגן עדן‬- ‫זכה צדיק‬
60
.‫ נטל חלקו וחלק חברו בגיהנם‬- ‫נתחייב רשע‬
God created righteous people and created wicked people. God created the
Garden of Eden and created Gehinnom. Everyone has two portions, one in
the Garden of Eden and one in Gehinnom. The righteous person, found
meritorious, takes both his own portion and his peer's portion in the Garden
of Eden. The wicked person, found guilty, takes his own portion and his
peer’s portion in Gehinnom.
Ravikovitch’s persona paints her awareness of Elisha ben Abuya’s response to Rabbi
Meir. The destabilization in the crafted symmetry of Be-shivhei ha-shalva intimates that
the speaker strongly suspects there will be no divine acceptance for her soul either. It
will not appeal to God, nor will God reply, as she asserts in the poem: “Within there is
no appeal, nary a response.” She suspects that the future of her soul will consist of two
portions of Gehinnom, as it were. The silence in the sanctuary for the speaker’s soul is
deafening. It bespeaks the estrangement from God that she dreads that her soul must
bear after her death.
Hitrosheshut indicates the speaker’s vacillation over how, or with what degree of
certainty, she relates to God. In life she suffers from estrangement, alienation and exile
59
Koren Bible, Qohelet 7:14. The introductory part of the verse is supplied for context in square
parentheses.
60
bHagiga 15a.
173
from God’s precincts. Through a fiery death she projects a desired purification for her
soul and doubts about the potential for it to be retrieved by God.
To sum up to this point concerning the heart of the sea as the location for thanatos,
Midrash Tanhuma sheds light on Jonah’s choice of a maritime setting for escape. In an
inverse application in Hitrosheshut the same source elucidates Ravikovitch’s site for her
persona’s anticipated death: having been exiled from God’s care and knowing she
cannot ‘return’ she deliberately chooses a venue reported beyond God’s influence. The
site is an expression of estrangement from God during her lifetime. Her soul, however,
stands a chance, a slim one in her mind, of post mortem purification.
(iii)
Seafaring Vessel
We still need to understand more about the specific motif of a ship as the instrument for
the persona’s operation. Again classical Jewish sources provide a contextual clue. The
Babylonian Talmud cites a mishnaic consideration of the salient quality of a ship as
ritually clean or pure, and extends the discussion with an analogy:
.‫יט( דרך אניה בלב ים‬:‫ מנין לספינה שהיא טהורה – שנאמר )משלי ל‬.‫משנה‬
‫ אף ספינה‬- ‫ מה ים טהור‬,‫ כים‬:‫ פשיטא אניה בלב ים היא! הא קא משמע לן‬.‫גמרא‬
61
.‫טהורה‬
Mishna. How is it known that a ship is ritually pure? It is said: the way of a
ship at the heart of the sea (Proverbs 30:19).
Gemara. Obviously [it is] a boat in the heart of the sea! What it is meant to (have
us hear) [teach us] is: just as the sea is ritually pure, so is a ship ritually pure.
The source above uses the springboard of a well-known expression of wonder in
Proverbs. The wonder is about majestic sights and occurrences in nature. A similar
expression of wonder echoes in several of Ravikovitch’s poems.62 She would have been
61
bShabbat 83b.
62
Proverbs 30:18-20 ponders such wonders as the passage of a ship upon the waters, the way an eagle
remains airborne, and the way of a man and a woman together. The wonder resounds linguistically
and thematically regarding eros in the speaker’s wondrous contemplation of “marvelous matter” in:
Ravikovitch, “Mahlon ve-khilyon,” Kol ha-shirim, 80. See Chapter 4.
174
familiar with the amplifications of its biblical articulation which appear in supertexts such
as the mishna and gemara cited.
The source is of assistance in bringing sharper focus to the speaker’s self-portrait as a
ship. If her putative lack of Torah purity and alienation from God are what makes her
think she is quite unlike Torah scrolls and therefore unworthy of rescue, then her
aspiration to become a ship begins to make sense as an antidote for her soul following
her death. A ship has the metaphoric potential to transfer her soul from its earthly
estrangement from God and impurity, to an afterlife of purity and divine acceptance. In
this regard, Hitrosheshut is not alone. In the poetic corpus there are additional selfportraits of the speaker as a ship. A companion piece may be viewed in the titular poem
of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s posthumously published collection, Mayim Rabbim63 [Mighty
Waters]:
‫ֳאנִ יָּה‬
.‫ָצ ָפה ְבּ ִלי עֹגֶן‬
‫יֵשׁ ָלהּ ִמ ְפ ָרשׂ‬
.‫רוּח‬
ַ ‫ֲא ָבל ַבּיָּם ֵאין‬
[…]
.‫יע ְלשׁוּם ָמקוֹם‬
ַ ‫ָה ֳאנִ יָּה לֹא ַתּ ִגּ‬
‫ָה ֳאנִ יָּה ַהזֹּאת‬
‫ִהיא ַדּ ְליָה ָמ ִריָה‬
‫ִהיא ִתּ ְט ַבּע ַהיּוֹם‬
64
.‫טוֹב ַעת ַהיּוֹם‬
ַ ‫ִהיא‬
A ship
adrift without anchor.
It has a sail
but on the sea there’s no wind.
[…]
The ship won’t make port.
This ship
is the Dahlia Maria
she will sink today
she is sinking today.
63
64
Dahlia Ravikovitch, “Mayim Rabbim,” Mayim Rabbim, eds. Dana Olmert and Uzi Shavit (Tel Aviv:
Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 2006) 7-8.
Loc cit.
175
Despite the worldly-sounding name evoking the proud seafaring fleets of fifteenth and
sixteenth century Spain,65 the prospects of the ‘Dahlia Maria’ are bleak. Without the
locomotion of the wind on the water, the soul carried by this craft might not get any
further than its current state of torpor.66
Further to the speaker’s construction of self as a ship for her mission, the motif is known
in world literature as well. In some strands of world literature ships are known as
vehicles which transfer souls from this world to an afterlife or next stage of existence.
This motif is known, for example, in ancient Egyptian literature in the Book of the Dead
which pictures the solar vessel of the sun deity, Ra.67 It served as instructions for
transition of the soul to the next world for those seeking passage to an afterlife. This
motif is also known in ancient Greek mythology in which Charon, the infernal boatman
known by the epithet ‘ferryman of Hades’, ferries souls of the recently deceased across
a river.68 Desolate souls left behind were destined to wander the banks of the river for
one hundred years. In the literature of the Philippines, for example, there are boats
acknowledged as soul-boats for similar purposes.69 While there is some hope of an
65
The name Dahlia Maria is reminiscent of several famous fifteenth and sixteenth-century Spanish craft.
One is the Santa Maria which, along with the Nina and Pinta, set sail from Spanish waters in 1492
under the command of Christopher Columbus (Xavier, Pastor, The Ships of Christopher Columbus,
London: Conway Maritime Press, 1992, 9). The name also evokes a link in name to a few boats of the
Spanish Armada named for Santa Maria. During the Armada’s attempted invasion of England in 1588,
the Santa Maria de la Rosa drifted and sank off the shore of Ireland (Colin Martin and Geoffrey Parker,
The Spanish Armada, London: Hamish Hamilton, 1988, 55, 62-63). With regard to drifting and sinking,
the Dahlia Maria comes closest to the name and fate of Santa Maria de la Rosa.
66
Translators Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld capture the essence of the poem in their translation by
adding a line to say, “She’s gone astray. Ravikovitch, “Many Waters,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld,
Hovering, 239-240.
67
Jean-Louis de Cenival, Le Livre Pour Sortir le Jour: Le Livre des Morts des Anciens Egyptiens
(Bordeaux: le Musée d’Antiquitaine et Réunion des Musées Nationaux, 1992) 26-27.
68
Ronnie H. Terpening, “Prose Dialogues and Narrative,” Charon and the Crossing: Ancient, Medieval
and Renaissance Transformations of a Myth. (Lewisberg: Bucknell University Press, 1985). 104-123.
69
Maria Bernadette L. Abrera “The Soul Boat and the Boat-Soul: An Inquiry into the Indigenous Soul,”
http://www.researchsea.com.
Abrera writes about bangka boats and related boat rituals in connection with a transfer of souls to an
afterlife.
176
afterlife for the sailing souls of world literature, the soul of Ravikovitch’s speaker’s
seems destined for the deep. In this context I shall ponder the flames of the ship again.
5.9
Flame-inducing Brushstroke
A penultimate pass at the self-portrait entails another visual sweep of that flameinducing brushstroke which advances ‘ship’ to ‘shipwreck’. Flames consume and flames
purify. Owing to these properties several world-religions and cultures incorporate fire in
funeral rites for ritual purification. Frequently such ceremonies occur on the waters, also
thought to have purifying properties. To this day there are religious groups in India
whose members set their deceased afloat on burning biers in the water. In an age gone
by Norse Vikings used to honour their deceased with cremation in carved stone ships
on land. Dahlia Ravikovitch was conversant with world literature and well acquainted
with a repertoire of ships, ships on the water, ships on fire and shipwreck. She would
have been familiar with their literary symbolism for death and the departure of souls, for
the transfer of souls to their next phase of existence and for purification.
Viewed through the looking glass of world literature the flames in the portrait suggest
that the speaker harbours a desire for her soul to be purified. She can address this
aspiration in the semblance of a ship. The flames complete the effect both in terms of
transposing ‘ship’ to ‘shipwreck’ and in effecting purification through fire on the water. In
this way the image of thanatos through fiery shipwreck elucidates the physical
manifestation of the speaker’s metaphysical aim.
This study has traced an intertextual pas de deux of the poem and the Song of Songs
concerning love in general and ‘mighty waters’. It has traced an inclination to offer one’s
entire fortune for the sake of love and commented on the hypothetical peer and public
reaction. This study has also detected an extension of the intertextual dance through
recourse to Song of Songs Rabba regarding the inclination of Rabbi Oshaia of Teriyya
to offer an entire lifetime in the service, learning and love of Torah, and by regarding his
miraculous, airborne divine retrieval.
177
In a final spiralling pass at the self-portrait in order to consider the flame-inducing
brushstroke which advances ‘ship’ to ‘shipwreck’ I return to a view of the fire through the
lens of Song of Songs:
[…] for love is fierce as death,
Passion is mighty as She’ol,
Its darts, darts of fire,
Godflame.
Mighty waters would not suffice to extinguish the love,
Nor rivers drown it.
Were one to offer his entire fortune for love,
He would be ridiculed to shame.70
There is choreography yet to examine. It is the choreography for the adagio that
engages the poem with the ‘darts of fire’ or the ‘Godflame’ of ‘love-fierce-as-death’ and
‘passion-mighty-as-She’ol’. This particular balletic composition requires very subtle
movement whose source is in Song of Songs Rabba. The enigmatic shalhevet-ya or
Godflame of Song of Songs 8:6 is illuminated in Song of Songs Rabba as follows:
71
,‫רשפיה רשפי אש שלהבת יה‬
.‫רבי ברכיה אמר כאש של מעלה לא האש מכבה למים ולא המים מכבין לאש‬
‘Its flashes are flashes of fire, a most vehement flame.’
R. Berekiah said, ‘Like the fire that is on high,
fire does not consume water, nor water, fire.’72
This instance of intertextual engagement leads to divine fire. In navigating this course to
the divine ‘fire that is on high’, Ravikovitch’s persona has made her point about life and
death through the canon of classical Jewish sources. The ultimate effect is as stated
generally above: beckoning thanatos through fiery shipwreck elucidates the physical
manifestation of the speaker’s metaphysical aim: the persona who suffers from a
condition of love will rid herself of its flames in the heart of the deep; upon death she
aspires to have her soul purified through fire should there be any chance of retrieval by
70
Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Song of Songs 8:6-7.
71
Shir Ha-Shirim Rabba 8:6.
72
Jacob Neusner, Song of Songs Rabbah, 226.
178
her creator. Despite estrangement in her lifetime, the persona harbours an impulse for
the union of her soul with God, after death, in the place of ‘fire that is on high’.
5.10
Summary
On a personal level the persona of Hitrosheshut feels alienated and uncared for. She
feels ‘marginalized’ and ‘other’. She takes responsibility for her mortality in hand. She
resolves to sail away in boundless waters to be demolished as a fiery shipwreck. She
exerts responsibility for the sanctity of her soul, albeit in the post facto manner
described. The poem engages intertextually in pas de deux and balletic variations with
several partners and groups: Proverbs, Jonah, bYevamot including both tannaitic and
amoraic elements, bHagiga and yHagiga, Midrash Tanhuma; and most significantly with
Song of Songs and Song of Songs Rabba. The speaker engages in intertextual
choreography to indicate that she is suffering from a surfeit of incendiary love. On the
spiritual level, this overwhelming passion shifts her attentions and allegiances beyond
the outermost edges of a life of God and Torah. On the level of human ardour, the
speaker continues to correspond, at heart, with a lovelorn woman at the heart of certain
poems in the Song of Songs.
The next chapter shows that on a more global level the persona takes responsibility for
the sanctity of human life. As a member of the collective she refuses to accept a status
quo of divestment of responsibility for civilian fatalities which occur in struggles of
attrition and skirmishes of ‘othering by stereotype’. The next chapter demonstrates the
way in which Dahlia Ravikovitch’s persona paints her collective verbal self-portrait as
‘the voice of responsibility’ in a work of postmodern poetics.
179
Chapter Six
Voice of Responsibility
6.1
Preamble to Portrayal of a Voice
To this point, this study has concentrated on the lamenting lovelorn soul whose speaker
paints verbal self-portraits on a personal lyrical note. By and large the self-portraits
examined are connected to love experienced in dissatisfying proportions: too little, too
much, of the wrong kind. This chapter shows that the persona also laments a critical
lack of human love on a broader scale.
In a suite of poems called Sugyot be-yahadut bat zemanenu – roughly translated as
Issues in Contemporary Judaism, Dahlia Ravikovitch conveys the impersonal chaos of
battle, impressions of war-torn children and forlorn adults. The series appears in the
poet’s 1987 collection sardonically entitled ’Ahava ’amitit – Real Love.1 This poetry is
tinged with the subtle irony that flourishes in the emotional space between poignant
familiarities and painful fragilities of life. In these songs of dissent Ravikovitch protests
human suffering and civilian fatalities which occur during conflicts of attrition and as a
result of ingrained inertia due to collectively held stereotypes designating ‘insiders’ and
‘outsiders’. Both take their toll, even in times of ostensible peace.
Among the poems in the suite, ‘Egla ‘arufa2 has its roots in an actual occurrence.3 A
student was fatally wounded in a Hebron marketplace. Not a soul came to his aid. Some
1
Dahlia Ravikovitch, ’Ahava ’amitit (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1987).
Yehuda Amichai, whose work is largely contemporaneous with that of Ravikovitch, reflects a similarly
sardonic tone in his poem ’Ahava ’idealit. His poem alludes to war and admonishes that people should
always leave open a path of retreat to childhood. See: Yehuda Amichai, “’Ahava ’idealit,” Shirei
Yehuda Amichai, (Jerusalem and Tel Aviv: Schocken, 2003) Vol. 3, 172. Henceforth: Shirei Yehuda
Amichai.
2
Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch translate the title of the poem as “Blood Heifer” in: Ravikovitch, “Blood
Heifer,” transl. Bloch and Bloch, The Window, 98-99. Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld translate the
title as “Beheaded Heifer” in: Ravikovitch, “Beheaded Heifer,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld Hovering,
195-196.
3
Ravikovitch, notes, transl. Bloch and Bloch, The Window, 116.
180
refrained, thinking he was an Arab, some thinking he was a Jew. He was treated as an
‘other’ by virtue of stereotype. He died where he fell.
Ravikovitch rejects the notion of ‘collateral human damage’ in conflicts of ‘othering’.
Through poetry she communicates that all persons on all sides of conflicts, whether
delineated by geographic margins or markers of mindset, are responsible for human
rights and the sanctity of human life.
In ‘Egla ‘arufa the persona paints a portrait of responsibility. She uses brushstrokes that
picture herself in motion, lithely traversing cultural boundaries. She articulates the
strongest brushstroke through a technique of postmodern poetics called ‘hermeneutic
lag’. Her stratagem will be illustrated in the context of the poem ‘Egla ‘arufa. A literal
translation of the title is ‘Neckbroken Heifer’. The poem is encrypted with an ancient
Israelite rite of atonement.4 What begins as a ceremony of divestment of accountability
for an anonymously slain civilian concludes as the shouldering of responsibility for
circumstances that lead to loss of human life.
Chapter Four included several portraits of the persona’s ‘throat’ in varying states of
constriction and release; the ‘throat’ visible in the self-portrait on view in this chapter is
wide open and delivering a directive. More accurately this is the portrait of a ‘voice’: the
voice of responsibility.
This chapter will examine the poem with an accent on the speaker’s technique and
locus of self-portrayal. In the process the chapter will identify intertexts in Scriptures and
halakhic midrash with which the poem sings. It will then return to a wider-angle view of
the portrait of the voice of responsibility which is only fully revealed toward the end of
the poem.
6.2
Speaking of Your Enemy’s Ass: Moral Bankruptcy
The poem ‘Egla ‘arufa pictures an unidentified fatally wounded man stumbling to the
ground. He founders and ultimately expires. Body torn apart, blood flows from his flesh.
4
Deuteronomy 21:1-9 outlines the ceremony of ‘egla ‘arufa.
‫‪181‬‬
‫‪Poetry swathes the poem’s infrastructure which draws faithfully on Deuteronomic detail‬‬
‫‪for the scenario it depicts:‬‬
‫עגלה ערופה‬
‫ָה ַל ְך עוֹד ַצ ַעד‬
‫ָה ַל ְך עוֹד ַכּ ָמּה ְצ ָע ִדים‪,‬‬
‫ָפלוּ לוֹ ַה ִמּ ְשׁ ָק ַפיִ ם‬
‫נְ‬
‫ָפ ָלה לוֹ ַה ִכּ ָפּה‪.‬‬
‫נְ‬
‫ָה ַל ְך עוֹד ַצ ַעד‬
‫ָשׁטוּף ְבּ ָדם‪,‬‬
‫מוֹשׁ ְך ַר ְג ַליִ ם‬
‫ֵ‬
‫ֲ‬
‫ֲשׂ ָרה ְצ ָע ִדים‬
‫אַח ֵרי ע ָ‬
‫הוּדי‬
‫ְכּ ָבר לֹא יְ ִ‬
‫ֲר ִבי‪,‬‬
‫לֹא ע ָ‬
‫יל ִאי‪.‬‬
‫ַע ְר ִט ָ‬
‫אוֹתנוּ?‬
‫רוֹצ ִחים ָ‬
‫אַתּם ְ‬
‫ֲקים; ָל ָמּה ֶ‬
‫ָשׁים צוֹע ִ‬
‫הוּמת ֱאל ִֹהים; ֲאנ ִ‬
‫ְמ ַ‬
‫רוֹצ ִצים‬
‫ַא ֵח ִרים ִמ ְת ְ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫ְמ ַמ ֲה ִרים ַלעֲשׂוֹת נְ ָק ָמה‪.‬‬
‫אָרץ‬
‫וְ הוּא ְמ ַח ְר ֵחר ַעל ָה ֶ‬
‫רוּע‪,‬‬
‫גּוּף ָק ַ‬
‫תּוֹך ַה ָבּ ָשׂר‪.‬‬
‫שׁוֹתת ִמ ְ‬
‫וְ ַה ָדּם ֵ‬
‫תּוֹך ַה ָבּ ָשׂר‪.‬‬
‫שׁוֹתת ִמ ְ‬
‫ַה ָדּם ֵ‬
‫הוּא ֵמת פֹּה אוֹ ָשׁם‬
‫ֶשׁ ָנהּ פֹּה‪.‬‬
‫ִאי ְבּ ִהירוּת י ְ‬
‫יוֹד ִעים?‬
‫ַחנוּ ְ‬
‫ָמה ֲאנ ְ‬
‫נִ ְמ ָצא ָח ָלל ַבּ ָשּׂ ֶדה‪.‬‬
‫סּוּרים ְמ ָמ ְר ִקים ָעוֹן‪.‬‬
‫אוֹמ ִרים‪ ,‬יִ ִ‬
‫ְ‬
‫פּוֹר ַח‪,‬‬
‫אָבק ֵ‬
‫אָדם ְכּ ָ‬
‫ָ‬
‫אַך ִמי ָה ִאישׁ‬
‫ְ‬
‫ֶשׁ ָכּ ְך ִבּ ְב ִדידוּת‬
‫ָשׁ ַכב ְמ ַע ֵלּ ַע ֶאת ָדּ ָמיו?‬
‫ַמה הוּא ָראָה‬
‫ַמה הוּא ָשׁ ַמע‬
‫הוּמה‬
‫תוך ַה ְמּ ָ‬
‫ְבּ ְ‬
‫ֵמ ָע ָליו?‬
‫אוֹמ ִרים‪,‬‬
‫וְ יֵשׁ ָה ְ‬
‫ַא ָך‬
‫ֲחמוֹר שׂוֹנ ֲ‬
‫ָעזֹב ַתּ ֲעזֹב ִעמּוֹ‪.‬‬
182
,‫ִכּי יִ ָמּ ֵצא ָח ָלל ַבּ ָשּׂ ֶדה‬
‫ִכּי יִ ָמּ ֵצא ָח ָלל ָבּ ֲא ָד ָמה‬
‫ֶיך וְ ָשׁ ֲחטוּ ֶע ְג ָלה‬
ָ ‫ָצאוּ ְז ֵקנ‬
ְ ‫וְ י‬
5
.‫ַחל יְ ַפ ְזּרוּ‬
ַ ‫וְ ֶאת ֶא ְפ ָרהּ ַבּנּ‬
‘Egla ‘arufa [‘Neckbroken Heifer’]
He took another step
he took another few,
off fell his glasses
off fell his skullcap.
He took another step
drenched in blood,
dragging his feet
ten steps later
no longer a Jew
nor an Arab,
amorphous.
God-tumult; people shouting; why are you murdering us?
And others dashing about
hurrying to take revenge.
And he is thrashing on the ground
body torn,
and blood flows from his flesh.
The blood flows from his flesh.
He died here or there
there is a lack of clarity in this instance.
What do we know?
A corpse was found in the field.
They say that tribulations purge sin.
A person disperses like dust in the wind
but who is the man
who in such loneliness
lay swallowing his blood?
What did he see
what did he hear
in the commotion
above him?
And there are those who say,
5
Ravikovitch, “‘Egla ‘arufa,” Kol ha-shirim, 253-254.
183
If it were your enemy’s ass
Surely you must lend a hand.
In the event that a corpse be found in the field,
in the event that a corpse be found on the ground
your elders shall go out and slaughter a heifer
and scatter its ashes in the wadi.
In the nineteen-eighties a yeshiva student was the victim of a fatal shooting in a
marketplace in Hebron. No one attended to him as his lifeblood drained away.
Onlookers of both sides of the Israeli/Palestinian divide believed him to be ‘other’ and
treated him as though not their responsibility. He died in a pool of his own blood. The
moral bankruptcy is appalling. The inertia is inexcusable. People behave more morally
than this when they spy animals in distress. The speaker makes this point in a voice
that quotes a truncated verse of Exodus. The full verse reads as follows:
6
:‫ַא ָך ר ֵֹבץ ַתּ ַחת ַמ ָשּׂאוֹ וְ ָח ַד ְל ָתּ ֵמ ֲעזֹב לוֹ ָעזֹב ַתּ ֲעזֹב ִעמּוֹ‬
ֲ ‫ִכּי ִת ְר ֶאה ֲחמוֹר שֹׂנ‬
When you see the ass of your adversary sprawled beneath its burden, and
would
be inclined to refrain from helping, you must nevertheless help.7
It is the least a compassionate person could do. In the event of a failure of compassion,
the commandment of Exodus activates obligation.
The persona quotes from the same source in Exodus when she exerts herself as the
voice of responsibility in a poem called Taryag mitzvot ve-’ahat [Six Hundred and
6
Exodus 23:5.
7
This is a loose translation of a complicated verse: Exodus 23:5. Rashi (loc. cit.) suggests that the
words ‘azov ta‘azov are an expression related to helping [an expression we might expect to be based
on the verb root ‘.z.r. as ‘azor ta‘azor]. Rashi suggests that we are to read the phrase bi-temiha.
Loosely translated, that reading would be: “Would you actually refrain from helping it?!” Ibn Ezra (loc.
cit.) suggests a different understanding altogether. He suggests that the onlooker has the
responsibility to release the straps or cords so that the load falls to the sides of the animal, then – vehadalta – leave the animal to its own devices to rise to its feet. The JPS Tanakh translates the same
verb ‘.z.r. in Nehemiah 3:34 as “restore” which is of assistance in suggesting appropriate readings of
Exodus 23:5. We might understand the obligation in the verse to be to restore the beast of burden to
its upright, functional, physically more comfortable status (Ibn Ezra), or to restore it to its owner,
adversary status notwithstanding.
184
Thirteen Commandments Plus One].8 In that poem the voice of responsibility decrees a
new commandment with the authority of a rabbinic sage. As part of the prescribed
consolation of mourners she imposes an obligation upon a deceased father,
presumably her father who was killed in a fatal car accident. She obliges the deceased
to return to his home to tell his offspring the details of his death in an attempt to allay
their fears. He is to remain with them for the seven days of shiv‘a and to return to help
them at propitious moments when grief overwhelms them.
The persona manipulates the phrasing of the biblical source to reflect that she includes
herself among the mourners. At the same time she makes use of the basic wording of
Exodus as if to say that it is the least a dead person could do:
‫ ִמ ְס ָפּר‬-‫ָמים וְ ָשׁנִ ים ֵאין‬
ִ ‫ִשׁ ְב ָעה י‬
‫ְבּ ָכל ֵעת ֶשׁיָּבוֹא ָרצוֹן ִמ ְלּ ָפנֵינוּ‬
‫ימת ֶשׁ ַה ַצּ ַער יִ ְג ַבּר ָע ֵלינוּ‬
ַ ‫ָכּל ֵא‬
.‫ָעזֹב ַי ֲעזֹב ִע ָמּנוּ‬
Seven days and countless years
at any auspicious time
whenever sorrow overwhelms us
surely he must help us.
In other words the voice of responsibility turns the tables on the commandment of hesed
shel ’emet – the ultimate act of compassion associated with burial of the dead. In the
case of Taryag mitzvot ve-’ahat the voice of responsibility declares that it is incumbent
upon deceased individuals to exhibit the ultimate compassion by consoling those who
mourn for them.
In Deuteronomy there is a verse similar to the one in Exodus. Its appearance is almost
adjacent to the scriptural material that outlines the ceremony of ‘egla ‘arufa and can
hardly escape the attention of anyone perusing that segment of Torah text:
9
:‫יך אוֹ שׁוֹרוֹ נ ְֹפ ִלים ַבּ ֶדּ ֶר ְך וְ ִה ְת ַע ַלּ ְמ ָתּ ֵמ ֶהם ָה ֵקם ָתּ ִקים ִעמּוֹ‬
ָ ‫אָח‬
ִ ‫לֹא ִת ְר ֶאה ֶאת ֲחמוֹר‬
8
Ravikovitch, “Taryag mitzvot ve-’ahat,” Kol ha-shirim, 21-22.
9
Deuteronomy 22:4.
185
If you see your fellow’s ass or ox fallen on the road, do not ignore it;
you must help him raise it.10
The Deuteronomy text also contains a commandment to take work-strained or lost
animals home and care for them until such time as one’s peer comes to claim them. As
readers we understand this commandment intuitively as the responsible thing to do. The
poet, nevertheless, initially chooses the Exodus text and skilfully strikes a choir of three
to sing three-voice opera: the poem and Exodus sing with Deuteronomy’s vibrato
emanating from offstage. In choosing to quote from the version in Exodus the voice
heard in the poem emphasizes a jarring contrast: even the beast of burden of one’s
enemy is to be treated more compassionately and more responsibly than the wounded
person of the poem, who lies fallen, alone and absolutely unaided.
The quotation from Exodus, which takes readers familiar with Scriptures on a detour via
Deuteronomy, is one of the portrait’s significant brushstrokes. It is among those which
the speaker uses to cross cultural boundaries. She drifts from a peer’s beast of burden
to an enemy’s beast of burden, from familiar compatriot to ‘other’ who ultimately
becomes an amorphous human being, who cannot be defined in the binary terminology
of ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’. His status is doubly ambiguous as a being hovering
between life and death. The speaker continues to drift easily back and forth across such
limens.
A human life is forfeit. Who is responsible? Who should atone? Everyone is and
everyone should is the message encrypted in the poem, although not yet fully apparent.
6.3
‘Egla ‘arufa – Ancient Israelite Ceremony of Atonement
The poem ties into an ancient Israelite ceremony called ‘egla ‘arufa – literally
‘neckbroken heifer’. The ceremony was enacted in ancient times as response to a
situation in which a slain civilian was found dead, lying out in the open11 without any
10
JPS Tanakh, Deuteronomy 22:4.
11
Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 205 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 240. and related commentaries
employ a series of delimitations to emphasize that the corpse in question is lying visibly exposed on
186
identifying signs. It was carried out when there was no one to help trace the person who
had inflicted the fatal wound.12
The rite of ‘egla ‘arufa is a biblically prescribed means of atonement for an unresolved
manslaughter. The ceremony has its roots in Deuteronomy 21:1-9. Its legal details are
amplified in Sifrei Deuteronomy 205-210. There were some very specific circumstances
governing whether or not to initiate the ceremony.13 Its implementation was not taken
lightly and in an effort not to do so unless warranted, the requirements for witnessing
were different from those of capital cases in general.14 Eventually when more than a
rare brazen killer was known to abound, ‘egla ‘arufa was rendered obsolete as the
manslaughter would no longer be considered unattributed.15
the ground (Rabbenu Hillel, loc. cit.; not buried in a heap where one might be ‘less surprised’ to find a
secreted body. This is the gist of an explanatory comment loc. cit. by Basser’s commentary to Sifrei
Deut. in: Herbert W. Basser, ed. Pseudo-Rabad: Edited and Annotated According to Manuscripts and
Citations (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1994); not suspended, nor cut down from being suspended from a
tree; on dry land and not floating upon the waters. Henceforth: Basser, Pseudo-Rabad.
12
In a series of delimitations the halakhic midrash of Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 205 in
Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 240 focuses the term halal used to refer to the slain individual. The related
commentary of Toledot Adam, loc. cit., indicates that the reference is to one felled by a sword. The
commentary of Penei Moshe on the related talmudic sugya in the Jerusalem Talmud, ySota, 9:1 23b-c,
specifies that the reference is to an individual who is felled by iron implements, presumably used as
weaponry, and not to one who was killed by strangulation.
13
The commentary of Rabbenu Hillel Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim 205 applies a second textual
mention of halal to a fully expired body, no longer twitching. Testimony had to pertain to a corpse as a
precondition for the implementation of the rite of ‘egla ‘arufa.
14
Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim pisqa 205 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 241 amplifies that the basic
precondition to the enactment of ‘egla ‘arufa is scripturally established: it was not seen or known who
smote the person. In capital cases, Jewish law usually requires two witnesses. As pertains to the
initiation of ‘egla ‘arufa, even a single witness would overturn the precondition. Further, it was not
necessary to establish the slayer’s exact identity, as is usually required in capital cases. According to
Rabbi Akiva, it was sufficient for a witness to see, not necessarily identify, the one dealing the blow: it
would render superfluous the formulaic statement regarding not having seen. For corroborating and
further information, see also: yRosh ha-Shana, 3:1, 58c-d.
15
Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 205 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 240 clarifies that the rite of ‘egla
‘arufa was not enacted when murderers were known to be afoot; in fact the enactment of the
ceremony was cancelled entirely when murderers were known to abound. Sifrei Deuteronomy indexes
that juncture in time to the life and times of a known murderer. mSota 9:9 also identifies this known
assailant with a series of nicknames, as his activities escalated from litigious to separatist to
murderous
187
The central elements of the ceremony are the breaking of a heifer’s neck,16 a practice
against which our present-day sensibilities rebel, a formulaic Hebrew recitation
appealing for atonement17 and hand washing.18
In rudimentary terms the mechanism for atonement is as follows. The elders of the city
closest to the site where the corpse was discovered19 would choose a heifer20 and break
its neck in a riverbed or wadi. They would proceed to wash their hands over the remains
and invoke a formulaic Hebrew recitation: “Our hands have not shed this blood, neither
have our eyes seen it”.21 They would request forgiveness for the unseen and unheard
16
Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 207 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 242. explains the method of
neckbreaking from behind with the use of an implement called kofitz – a cleaver.
17
The saying is drawn from Deuteronomy 21:7:
.‫ָדינוּ לֹא )שפכה( ] ָשׁ ְפכוּ[ ֶאת ַה ָדּם ַהזֶּה וְ ֵעינֵינוּ לֹא ָראוּ‬
ֵ‫י‬
Our hands did not spill this blood, neither did our eyes see.
The declaration of the elders held the force of an avowal that the killer had not passed through their
hands; had he, they would not have allowed him to leave them in the state that he was; that is, they
would have provided the individual with his needs such as food (Midrash Tanna’im on Deuteronomy
21) so that he would not have felt pressed to kill. The Babylonian Talmud also speaks of the
declaration of the elders as serving to excuse them in the hypothetical event that a slayer, in need of
food, had not been brought to their attention for provision at their hand; it also excuses them from
hypothetically not having seen him, affording him the opportunity to slip away unaccompanied (bSota
46b).
18
Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 209 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 243 designates the site for hand
washing as the same riverbed where the neckbreaking was to take place.
19
Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 205 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 241 outlines that measurement
was to be made from the corpse to the nearest city with a beit din – tribunal, other than Jerusalem.
The city thus identified would be responsible for the human resources and the heifer to carry out the
ceremony of ‘egla ‘arufa. There is discussion in Sifrei Deut. over the part of the anatomy of the victim
from which to initiate the measurement. The resolution is from the hotam – the central part of the face
that constitutes the point of recognition.
20
Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 206 Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 242 outlines a dispute over the age
of this heifer. A one year old heifer was to be chosen in the opinion of Rabbi Eliezer. His view was
legally accepted over that of the collectively represented voice of the Sages.
21
Deuteronomy 21:8. This is a translation of the Hebrew formula that the elders would recite in an
antiphonal ceremony of ’amira and ‘anina – saying and responding.
188
shedding of innocent blood and implore that it not remain among the people.22
Subsequently the elders would be considered cleared of their obligation.
The legal implication of the rite of ‘egla ‘arufa is that someone must take responsibility to
make expiation. A plausible sociological inference is that someone must own the
responsibility for atonement for not having been able to bring the assailant to justice on
behalf of the deceased, for lack of having seen or heard what had transpired.
By law the ceremony was to take place in a wadi whose land had never been worked
and should, in some legal opinions, remain forevermore unworked and unsown.23
Babylonian Talmud24 indicates that the sage Rabbi Yohanan ben Sha’ul notes the threeway metaphoric symmetry of the land’s unrealized fertility with that of the prescribed
heifer, meaning a calf which had not yet bred, and that of the deceased who would not
bear offspring, or further offspring as the case may be, nor multiply down through the
generations.
Loosely translated in the text that follows, the sage asks and answers, “Why did the
Torah stipulate that the heifer was to be brought to an unworked riverbed? The Holy
One said, ‘Let one who has never borne fruit be brought forth and ‘neckbroken’ in a
place that does not bear fruit in order to make expiation for the slaying of the one who
was not granted the opportunity to bring forth fruit.’” The significance of the response
pertains to unrealized fertility ‘to the power of three’.
In ‘Egla ‘arufa Ravikovitch instates the circumstances calling for the biblically
established rite of ‘egla ‘arufa. As stated the poem opens with the image of a wounded
individual out in the open, staggering to his death. En route he loses the accoutrements
22
The request is in accordance with the commandment of Deuteronomy 21:9 to put aside the ‘blood’:
.‫ָקי ִמ ִקּ ְר ֶבּ ָך‬
ִ ‫אַתּה ְתּ ַב ֵער ַה ָדּם ַהנּ‬
ָ ְ‫ו‬
Koren Tanakh phrases the translation as follows, with the implication of ‘bloodguilt’: “Thus you will
remove from your midst guilt for the blood of the innocent.”
23
Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 207 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut.242; bSota 46b: see quoted
baraita conveying a dispute over this matter between Rabbis Yoshiya and Yonatan.
24
bSota 46a.
189
through which he sought signs of internal and external direction: his skull cap and his
glasses. There is no mention of uniform or arms; this is a civilian, not a soldier. He is
unmarked, as it were, stripped of identifying signs. He is no longer identifiable as either
a Jew or as an Arab. He could easily be either. Losses of human life are sustained on
either side of a cultural divide, whether in a conflict of attrition or an uphill battle against
collectively held stereotypes and prejudices. Death does not distinguish. As he lies
dying the individual is an amorphous, blood-soaked human being thrashing on the
ground.
With a keen ear for the music of language Dahlia Ravikovitch ignites assonance for
readers who hear the wording of Sifrei Deuteronomy, Parashat Shofetim 205 singing
harmony to this poem’s melody. For the inception of ‘egla ‘arufa the body in question
was to be motionless on the ground, not flailing or flapping in the air – mefarper. By
contrast the dying man of the poem resists death on the ground. In an attempt to stave
off the impending motionless state he thrashes – meharher. Ravikovitch deploys
assonance to choreograph a covert pas de deux for the two texts: Sifrei Deuteronomy
and her poem. In thrashing about, the dying man is pictured as though striving with the
land. Unfortunately, far too much of his blood mingles with the dust of the earth. He
expires.
6.4
Escaping Lifeblood: Fragility of Life and Airborne
Particles
Beyond the ceremony of the ‘neckbroken heifer’ there are additional elements in the
poem that relate to Scriptures. One is the doubled mention of the deceased’s escaping
blood. It reverberates with the blood mentioned in at least two biblical sources. One is in
Genesis; another is in Ezekiel.
One triggers a connection with Genesis and recalls the first recorded instance of the
taking of a life. There God reports to Cain that the blood of his slain brother Abel cries
out from the ground:
190
25
:‫א ָד ָמה‬
ֲ ‫ֲקים ֵא ַלי ִמן ָה‬
ִ ‫יך צֹע‬
ָ ‫אָח‬
ִ ‫קוֹל ְדּ ֵמי‬
The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to me from the earth.
In the midrashic imagination the blood that cries out to God is so copious that it is
spattered all over the trees and the stones.26
Rabbi Yudan’s understanding of the term demei, a plural bound phrase constructed from
the collective form for the word ‘blood’ – damim, indicates references to both the blood
of the deceased and the blood of his descendants.27 The reference to descendants
signifies the never-to-be-born or ‘pre-slain’ descendants of the deceased. The speaker
of the poem is protesting the shedding of innocent damim – exponential blood. This is a
situation of blood ‘to the power of two’, as it were,28 and the consequent unfruitfulness
brings it to blood ‘to the power of three’.29 This civilian’s blood is escaping and his
descendants’ blood is escaping. Both leave his body and seep into the land.
The doubled mention of the deceased’s escaping blood triggers a second intertextual
connection to an extended metaphor in the book of Ezekiel. Here God portrays care of
newborn-Jerusalem lying out in the open field. She is abandoned in the blood of her
own afterbirth. There is nobody to attend to her, swaddle her or raise her. God steps in
to nurture her and in a double mention of blood recalls:
30
‫בּוֹס ֶסת‬
ֶ ‫ָא ְר ֵא ְך ִמ ְת‬
ֶ ‫ָא ֱעבֹר ָע ַליִ ְך ו‬
ֶ‫ו‬
:‫חיִ י‬
ֲ ‫ְבּ ָד ָמיִ ְך ָוא ַֹמר ָל ְך ְבּ ָד ַמיִ ְך ֲחיִ י ָוא ַֹמר ָל ְך ְבּ ָד ַמיִ ְך‬
25
Genesis 4:10.
26
This homiletical material is found as a parenthetical interpolation in the legal material of mSanhedrin
4:5 whose main focus is the admonishment of witnesses in capital cases regarding the gravity of their
responsibility. The same material is quoted in: bSanhedrin 37a; ySanhedrin 4:11, 22a Pesiqta zutreta
on Genesis 4:10.
27
Genesis Rabba, Parasha 22: 9-10 in Albeck, Genesis Rabba, Vol. 2, 216. As well, Targum Onkelos for
Genesis 4:10 reflects a midrashic stance that the blood crying out to God was that of the future
descendants of slain Abel.
28
Rabbi Yudan in Genesis Rabba, Parasha 22:9-10 in Albeck, Genesis Rabba, Vol. 2, 216.
29
Rabbi Yohanan ben Sha’ul in bSota 46a.
30
Ezekiel 16:6.
191
When I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your own blood
I said to you: ‘Live in spite of your blood.’
Yea I said to you, ‘Live in spite of your blood.’31
The extended metaphor in Ezekiel portrays the relationship of care and love that
flourishes between God and Jerusalem and eventually blossoms into a covenantal
bond. Whereas foundling Jerusalem was rescued by God from the blood that gave her
life, the individual in the poem is foundering in the pooling blood which will bring him
death. Not a single soul will care for him, love him, espouse his plight or come to his
physical rescue. Whereas the abandoned infant was lying out in the open far from the
eye of human compassion, the dying civilian draws a crowd. In the scenario of reality
from which the poem grew, the dying student lay in a crowded marketplace surrounded
by scores of pairs of unseeing eyes.
Through recourse to Scriptures, as well as legal and aggadic midrash, the poem is
encoded with the details of the ceremony of the ‘neckbroken heifer’. As well, the
speaker succeeds in conveying the fragility of life and the appalling lack of human
compassionate treatment through ‘multiply-escaping’ lifeblood.
The encryption of several strengthening elements of classical Jewish sources further
emphasize the delicacy of mortality. Two in particular tie into the motif of dust – ’avaq.
Both hover in the poem as the dying man expires in the dust. One is a liturgical refrain
that underscores the fleeting nature of human life: “’adam ke-’avaq poreah” referring to a
person’s life which dissipates like dust in the wind.32
A second strengthening element contributes to the message of life’s fragility by
beckoning intertextual resonance based in the biblical account of creation.
Reverberations of the creatio ex nihilo of the father of Cain and Abel make themselves
31
Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Ezekiel 16:6.
32
See: “U-netane toqef,” High Holiday Prayerbook, ed. Morris Silverman (New York: The Prayer Book
Press, 1967) 145-147, 355-357. The Hebrew phrasing matches that of the U-netane toqef prayer in the
Jewish High Holy Day liturgy. It is inserted into the chain of blessings comprising the musaf repetition
of the ‘amida. U-netane toqef is attributed in folk tradition to Rabbi Amnon of Mayence who died as a
martyr, with the words of this prayer on his lips.
192
heard in the wording: Adam, the first human being, was created from the dust of the
earth. ‘Dust’ yet again insinuates its existence here as ’afar. Its presence in the poem is
reminiscent of the mortality meted out to Adam in consequence for having succumbed
to the temptation to taste the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.
It too involves dust –’afar:
33
:‫אַתּה וְ ֶאל ָע ָפר ָתּשׁוּב‬
ָ ‫ִכּי ָע ָפר‬
For dust you are
and to dust shall you return.34
With intertextual reverberations of blood and dust the poem underscores the fragile
mortality of the wounded man. There are additional intertextual duets within classical
Jewish sources yet to examine. I shall return to a consideration of these following a look
at the poem’s intersection with a classic of the early modern Hebrew canon of poetry.
6.5
Intertextual Nexus in the Canon of Modern Hebrew
Poetry: Between Bialik and Ravikovitch
Further to the consideration of blood and dust, this segment considers the interplay of
Ravikovitch’s poem and a poem by Bialik. The poetry of H. N. Bialik, respectfully known
as the poet laureate of Israel, is regarded as a keystone of the canon of early modern
Hebrew poetry. ‘Al ha-shehita is set in the aftermath of the Kishinev pogroms which
were perpetrated in the capital of Bessarabia at the conclusion of Passover, the
nineteenth and twentieth of April, 1903. Avner Holtzman, who recently published an
historical anthology of Bialik’s poetry, comments as follows:
The bold emblematic character of the exclamations which permeate the
poem have caused a phenomenon whereby many of its lines (such
as; […] or ‘Revenge like that, revenge for the blood of a little boy /
has not yet been created by Satan’) have been etched into the
collective psyche of readers of Hebrew and its speakers, and
33
Genesis 3:19.
34
Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Genesis 3:19.
193
are repeatedly quoted to this day in an assortment of actual contexts
by the mouths of many who are not even aware of their source.35
Ravikovitch is mindful of the poetry of her predecessors and colleagues and applies
artistic finesse to conscious gleanings from their magna opera. The question of
‘revenge’ raised in one of Bialik’s lines, notably one singled out by Holtzman as
frequently quoted, echoes in ‘Egla ‘arufa in the speaker’s report of the reactions of the
onlookers:
God-tumult; people shouting; why are you murdering us?
And others scampering
hurrying to take revenge.
In ‘Egla ‘arufa echoes of revenge come through directly in the wording. Left
unarticulated are echoes of reproach in that no such revenge could possibly suffice for
the extinguished life of a civilian. In his poem, Bialik introduces the wretchedness of that
impossibility directly with:
36
!‫ נְ קֹם‬:‫אוֹמר‬
ֵ ‫וְ אָרוּר ָה‬
Cursed is the one who says: Revenge!
A phenomenon of both articulated presence and evoked presence adheres to Bialik’s
bold lines which dare the Heavens to intercede and Justice to appear at once in the
face of his estrangement from God:
!‫ ַבּ ְקּשׁוּ ַר ֲח ִמים ָע ָלי‬,‫ָשׁ ַמיִ ם‬
-‫ָתיב‬
ִ ‫יֵשׁ ָבּ ֶכם ֵאל וְ ָל ֵאל ָבּ ֶכם נ‬-‫ִאם‬
-‫אתיו‬
ִ ‫ַאנִ י לֹא ְמ ָצ‬
ֲ‫ו‬
!‫אַתּם ָע ָלי‬
ֶ ‫ִה ְת ַפּ ְלּלוּ‬
!‫התפללו אתם עלי‬
[...]
37
!‫יוֹפע ִמיָּד‬
ַ -‫ ֶצ ֶדק‬-‫וְ ִאם יֵשׁ‬
35
A translation of a comment by Avner Holtzman in: Hayyim Nahman Bialik: Ha-shirim, ed. Avner
Holtzman (Tel Aviv: Devir, 2004) 248.
36
H.N. Bialik, “‘Al ha-shehita,” Kol Shirei Hayyim Nahman Bialik (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1973) 152-153, l. 22.
Henceforth: Bialik, Kol Shirei Bialik.
194
Heavens, beg mercy on my behalf!
If God be in your midst, and a path to God –
Yet I have not found it –
Pray Ye for me!
[…]
And if there is Justice – let it appear at once!
Ravikovitch, who seldom makes direct mention of God in her poetry, does so in ‘Egla
‘arufa. Bialik is not sure whether God is ‘home’ and dares the Heavens and Justice to
intervene in God’s stead; when push comes to shove, Ravikovitch does acknowledges
God’s presence, albeit with a focus on God’s uneasy response to the violence. Like the
sound of someone shifting uncomfortably in a chair, the God-tumult is inefficacious.
There is no point in the poet daring the human beings on the ground to intervene: they
just add to the commotion. In the confusion of the victim’s living or dead status,
Ravikovitch also writes of the confusion between those who adopt victim status asking,
“Why are you murdering us?” and those who rush to take revenge.
With her virtuoso’s ear for linguistic detail, Ravikovitch incorporates additional elements
that interface with Bialik’s poem ‘Al ha-shehita. Her title, ‘Egla ‘arufa, builds upon the
rhetorical dare of Bialik’s speaker to the executioner to break his neck like a dog: ‘orpeni
ka-kelev. Ravikovitch magnifies his imperative which utilizes ‘.r.f., the same verb root for
‘arufa
‫ ַק ְרדֹּם‬-‫ ְל ָך ְזר ַֹע ִעם‬,‫ָע ְר ֵפנִ י ַכּ ֶכּ ֶלב‬
38
-‫ַרדֹּם‬
ְ ‫אָרץ ִלי ג‬
ֶ ‫ ָה‬-‫וְ ָכל‬
Break my neck like a dog, your arm wields an axe,
The entire earth is my gallows –
An additional intertextual connection of the poems by Bialik and Ravikovitch is related to
the hopeless insufficiency of revenge for the shedding of innocent blood. This instance
is expressed starkly as the blood of both victims, like that of biblical Abel, seeps into the
37
Bialik, Kol Shirei Bialik, 152-153, ll. 1-4; 15.
38
Bialik, Kol Shirei Bialik, 152-153, ll. 9-10.
195
earth. Bialik is austere and devastatingly direct about the blood and its powerful effects
upon the earth:
!‫ ַה ְתּהוֹם‬-‫וְ יִ קֹּב ַה ָדּם ֶאת‬
,‫יִ קֹּב ַה ָדּם ַעד ְתּהֹמוֹת ַמ ֲח ַשׁ ִכּים‬
‫אָכל ַבּח ֶֹש ְך וְ ָח ַתר ָשׁם‬
ַ ְ‫ו‬
39
.‫אָרץ ַהנְּ ַמ ִקּים‬
ֶ ‫מוֹסדוֹת ָה‬
ְ -‫ָכּל‬
May the blood rot the abyss!
Let the blood penetrate to the darkest depths,
And consume in darkness and undermine there
All the rotting foundations of the earth.
Intertextually speaking, Ravikovitch engineers a subterranean conduit. The bloodshed
and injustices of Middle Eastern conflicts of attrition and ‘othering’ encounter the
bloodshed and injustices of eastern European pogroms in the depths of the earth.
Concealed there, they consume the world’s core in darkness, silently rotting the
foundations of the earth.
6.6
Empathy for an Unwitting Victim: Additional Intertexts in
Classical Jewish Sources
Among the reactions of the onlookers to the dying man and his situation are wordings
and phrases that evoke additional biblical and rabbinic intertexts. One is a muttering of
yissurim memareqim ‘avon, connoting a notion that tribulations purge sin. This notion
exists as a concept in biblical commentary40 and the literature of the sages. An example
of the latter appears in a context related to God’s sovereignty over the land of Israel.41 A
case may be built to connect the poem’s setting of bloodshed on the land to that
39
Bialik, Kol Shirei Bialik, 152-153, ll. 25-29.
40
For an example of a biblical connection see the commentary of Radaq on Isaiah 4 2. Radaq interprets
the lemma “ba-yom ha-hu” as referring to a time after which God will have purged Israel’s
wrongdoings through trials and tribulations. He identifies that time as the time of a future redemption
by a messiah of the Davidic lineage, referred to as Tzemah – tribute to this individual’s heralding of an
era of flourishing growth through redemption.
41
For example, see bSanhedrin 39a regarding Ezekiel who suffered tribulations on Israel’s behalf in
order to purge Israel’s wrongdoings. Ultimately the situation is portrayed in the expression of God’s
goal to ensure that the people of Israel recognize that the land belongs to God in perpetuity. See: Vayiqra 25:23.
196
context. Alternately, a case may be made to leave the maxim to stand at face value,
corresponding to the surface level at which it is spoken: it is uttered here as an
anonymous platitude. It is spoken in a gratuitous manner, as platitudes are, and is
altogether ambiguous in terms of attribution: the source of the sin is left indistinct as is
the object of the tribulations. The maxim functions as one of those adages which ‘they
say’: the ubiquitous, unidentified ‘they’. ‘They’ are the ones who are never susceptible to
being pinned down in order to be held accountable and responsible for anything that
‘they’ do or ‘they’ say. It is spoken and heard anonymously by unnamed onlookers and
as ‘replay’ in the speaker’s head.
The ambiguous platitude of unidentified onlookers parallels the anonymous identity of
the by-now-deceased individual whom the poem has declared a corpse:
He died here or there
there is a lack of clarity in this instance.
What do we know?
A corpse was found in the field.
The recognizable hallmarks of the unattributed slaying of this ‘unidentified civilian’
‘found in the field’ constitute motivation for the initiation of the rite of the ‘neckbroken
heifer’. News of the occurrence spreads to the people shouting and dashing about, and
the identity of the deceased passes into the realm of conjecture:
but who is the man
who in such loneliness
lay swallowing his blood?
This natural fascination, phrased as mi ha-’ish – “who is the man […]?” calls to mind a
biblical intertext. The question evokes a segment of Torah text composed of a series of
situations, each introduced by that question. It has the force of the question “Is there
anyone who …?” The situations are recorded in Deuteronomy 20, the chapter which
precedes the commandments concerning ‘egla ‘arufa. Each instance of mi ha-’ish
corresponds to an easement for certain men in event of war. If called to arms, these
men are permitted to return home lest they die before fulfilling particular
197
commandments and experiencing specific ‘firsts’ in life. These men are: the man who
has built a new home but not yet dedicated it;42 the man who has planted a vineyard but
not yet tasted its fruit;43 and the man who has betrothed a woman but not yet celebrated
with her a consummation of the union.44 The same question applies to any man who is
fearful and disheartened; he too is to return home in order not to affect the morale of
those who must do battle:
45
:‫ֵל ְך וְ ָישֹׁב ְל ֵביתוֹ וְ לֹא יִ ַמּס ֶאת ְל ַבב ֶא ָחיו ִכּ ְל ָבבוֹ‬
ֵ ‫ָרא וְ ַר ְך ַה ֵלּ ָבב י‬
ֵ ‫[ ִמי ָה ִאישׁ ַהיּ‬...]
Is there anyone fearful and disheartened? Let him return to his home
lest his brethren’s courage melt like his heart.46
The instance of “who is the man” in Ravikovitch’s poem points to an individual about
whom, sadly, nobody really knows anything or cares. For readers who hear the poem
singing back and forth with Deuteronomy 20, it is heartbreaking to think that the man
might have died without having had the opportunity to attend to certain obligations, nor
enjoy any number of ‘firsts’. It is even more painful to think that this civilian was doubly
ambushed, not consciously prepared to do battle over anything, nor expecting to have
war waged against himself, no matter the disposition of his courage and demeanour of
his heart.
The question “who is the man?” also sparks an allusion to Psalms 34:
‫ִמי ָה ִאישׁ ֶה ָח ֵפץ ַחיִּ ים‬
:‫ָמים ִל ְראוֹת טוֹב‬
ִ ‫א ֵֹהב י‬
[...]
47
:‫ַבּ ֵקּשׁ ָשׁלוֹם וְ ָר ְד ֵפהוּ‬
42
Deuteronomy 20:5.
43
Deuteronomy 20:6.
44
Deuteronomy 20:7.
45
Deuteronomy 20:8.
46
Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Deuteronomy 20:8.
47
Psalms 34:3-15.
198
Who is the man who is eager for life,
who desires years of good fortune?
[…]
seek peace and pursue it.48
It is distressing to think that the civilian of the poem, perhaps an individual devoted to
long life in pursuit of peace, was felled by someone bearing implements of war. From
such intertextual engagements, readers get a deep sense of what grieves the persona.
The poem boasts a purview of vertical optics which direct glances upward and
downward, above and below. Within that visual range the persona positions the readers
in an empathetic posture on the ground, looking upward and listening in order to try to
relate to the experience of the dying man:
but who is the man
who in such loneliness
lay swallowing his blood?
What did he see
what did he hear
in the commotion
above him?
In a manoeuvre to simulate onomatopoetic identification with the wounded man, the
speaker manipulates reader pronunciation. The words me‘ale‘a – ‘swallowing’, and me‘alav – ‘above him’ require alternating closure of the lips and opening of the back of the
throat in order to pronounce the phonemes dictated by the repeated consonant mem
and guttural ‘ayin. The result is an approximation of choking back a thick liquid. That the
man died alone aspirating his own blood, in addition to the rest of the circumstances, is
unbearable.
The speaker, deeply distressed on behalf of the man dying “in such loneliness”,
manages to turn back the clock by a few moments to get the readers to lie down next to
him on the ground, to stay by his side, to attempt to see what he sees, hear what he
48
Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Psalms 34:13-15.
199
hears and choke back the blood on his behalf. People commanded to assist even their
enemy’s beast of burden should, at the very least, manage this empathetic gesture.
6.7
Defamiliarization in the Dénouement
Amid the transience and fragility of life, the poem reaches its final stanza and restores
attention to the ceremony of the ‘neckbroken heifer’:
In the event that a corpse be found in the field,
in the event that a corpse be found on the ground
your elders shall go out and slaughter a heifer
The repetition in the stanza’s opening two lines and the closeness of their wording to
that of the originating ‘neckbroken heifer’ text in Deuteronomy lull us into a sense of
dénouement. We see that we are one line away from the ‘finish line’, and prepare for
the sensation of closure. We feel certain that it will be delivered in the voice of the
elders, intoning the formulaic recitation in appeal for atonement. With resignation, we
await the anticipated release from responsibility. And then we read:
your elders shall go out and slaughter a heifer
and scatter its ashes in the wadi.
Then and there the speaker pulls a poetic punch. Almost imperceptibly she destabilizes
the text. Suddenly the ‘contextual determinacy’ is gone. We notice that something has
happened when they reach the last line but do not quite grasp what has happened, or
even when or where it happened in the poem. Eventually we realize we are dealing with
a ‘heifer of a different colour’.
The clues that there has been a transition reveal themselves in a pair of slight shifts.
One shift is evident in a blurring that takes place in the closing of the poem: there the
neck-breaking has been blurred to slaughtering. They are not one and the same. A
second shift is present in the reference to fine airborne particles. Previously the poem
mentioned ’avaq – dust and our active literary memory dredged up ‘afar – ‘dust’ as well,
as in: “from dust to dust” in association with Adam of Genesis. Now the poem makes
200
mention of ’eifer – ashes in the form of a bound construct: ’efrah.49 The question is: what
ashes? And these are not just any ashes, rather ’efrah, meaning its ashes, her ashes –
the heifer’s ashes; but there are no ashes in the ‘egla ‘arufa ceremony. The hapless
heifer’s neck is broken and it is then buried in the unsown riverbed.
This second shift is ensconced in the dimensions of the language that the poet chooses
and uses. This is the shift that undermines the ‘dust’ initially embedded in the poem,
and turns it to ‘ashes’. This is an instance of Ravikovitch’s use of language to
undermine Language, much like the poet Paul Célan uses music to undermine Music in
poems such as Deathfugue.50 By implanting this undermining component of postmodern
poetics in the dimensions of her poetry Ravikovitch seals and unseals the secrets that
her poems whisper. By ensuring that elements of her poems are resistant to ‘fixity’ of
meaning, Ravikovitch’s poetry retains inexhaustible reservoirs of secrets.51
Upon considering the shifts it eventually dawns on us as readers: this is no longer the
neckbroken heifer of Deuteronomy; this is the red heifer of the book of Numbers.52 This
alternate rite, namely the rite of the red heifer, pertains to discharging responsibility for
ritual impurity. This alternate ancient Israelite ceremony involved the use of the specially
prepared ashes of the red heifer. The preparation involved burning the red heifer
together with cedar wood, hyssop and wool dyed scarlet. The ashes, and any other
remains of the preparation, were reduced to a fine powder, and combined with running
water from a natural source. The mixture was used, mainly, for the ritual purification of
49
Despite the difference in the initial letter and vowel, the word ’efrah meaning ‘her ashes’, sounds close
to ‘afar with a suffix. The word ‘afar – meaning dust has been heard in the poem and still reverberates
in the ears of listeners. The effect is a subtle, barely discernible transition.
50
Paul Célan, “Deathfugue,” transl. John Felstiner, Paul Célan: Poet, Survivor, Jew (New Haven and
London: Yale University Press, 1995), 31-32. Célan destabilizes the high culture of the musical fugue
with the music Jews were ordered by the Nazis to play as their peers were digging their own graves.
He uses the macabre discord of death-music to undermine the presumed gentility of classical music.
51
Jacques Derrida observes in the context of the ‘sealing and unsealing’ of poems that “The possibility
of a secret always remains open, and this reserve inexhaustible.” See: Jacques Derrida, “Poetics and
Politics of Witnessing,” 67.
52
Numbers 19:1-9.
201
individuals who had become impure through contact with a corpse, or by being in the
same enclosed space as death.53
In deftly shifting heifers Ravikovitch’s speaker lithely traverses a boundary. She floats
through an almost imperceptible membrane from the divestment of responsibility to an
assumption of liability. She glides from casting off second-hand ownership of the
shedding of innocent blood by an unknown assailant, to the assumption of first-hand
responsibility for ritual impurity incurred by consorting with death.
The defamiliarization actually occurs in the space between the poem’s last two lines. It
takes place in that instant when we notice we are lost in the reading, then reorient
ourselves on new terms but do not yet fully understand the route we have navigated. In
that instant the carpet has been pulled out from beneath our feet. We are suspended
over the proverbial abyss54 until we can seize upon another ‘under-standing’ of the
poetic voice singing
6.8
Another Understanding: Hermeneutic Lag
Another understanding requires readers to exert an exegetical effort. We need to locate
significance and need to interpret, but there’s a lag while we get our bearings. Marjorie
Perloff coins a term for this dynamic or poetic in language. She calls it “hermeneutic
lag”.55 In poetry’s linguistic context Marjorie Perloff uses the term ‘hermeneutic lag’ to
53
A portion of the mixture was to be kept as a remembrance in the wall of the women’s court of the
temple in Jerusalem. See: Chaim Richman, The Mystery of the Red Heifer: Divine Promise of Purity
(Jerusalem: Chaim Richman 1997, 1998, 2005).
54
The philosopher Martin Heidegger develops an extended metaphoric concept that the purpose of
poets is to sing songs of the world’s darkest hours. He writes of these ‘songs of the abyss’ in: Martin
Heidegger, “What Are Poets For?” Poetry, Language, Thought, (New York: Perennial Classics, 2001;
originally published New York: Harper and Row, 1971) 87-140.
55
Marjorie Perloff, “Signs are Taken for Wonders: On Steve McCaffery’s ‘Lag’.” Contemporary Poetry
Meets Modern Theory, eds. Antony Easthope and John O. Thompson (Toronto: University of Toronto
Press, 1991) 114. Henceforth: “Lag.”
202
refer to abrupt dislocations of meaning that occur when the language of a poem
suddenly shifts gears.56
The dislocation of meaning and the accompanying shift in referentiality occur
somewhere between the last two lines of Ravikovitch’s poem. There is a moment of
‘hermeneutic lag’: a moment in which the readers grope for understanding, and not just
of meaning. We scramble to make sense of the “narrative of undermine”.57 There is a
need to fathom that which took place during the lag. It is in this space that Ravikovitch
both seals and unseals her poem. It is in this space that whispered essence can be
discerned.
Ravikovitch makes use of the lag as the space within which to topple encrypted
meaning. It is the space within which she protests threats to personal rights and
existence. Those threats include the apparent and unfortunate ‘limitation’ of love in the
matter of humane treatment of human beings and their lives. Such threats escalate
when people disagree over boundaries, whether physical, metaphysical, existential,
cultural or otherwise.
In the lag manufactured in ‘Egla ‘arufa, the speaker situates her voice of remonstration.
She is practically shouting at the top of her lungs that there is no such thing as
atonement for an unattributed slaying. Nobody is exempt. Every human being is
decidedly ‘on the hook’. What begins as a ceremony of divestment of accountability for
an anonymous manslaughter, concludes as the shouldering of responsibility for
attitudes that lead to loss of human life. In the lag manufactured in ‘Egla ‘arufa, the
speaker paints the portrait of her voice of responsibility.
56
Marjorie Perloff refers specifically to the poet Steve McCaffery who laces his renowned poem, Lag,
with unsettling prepositions. He employs these linguistic shifters to project meaning cataphorically and
anaphorically, continually destabilizing the text: Perloff, “Lag,” 108-115.
57
This pithy encapsulation was coined by Peter Quartermain to describe the shifts of referentiality that
abound in the works of Gertrude Stein in: Peter Quartermain, “A Narrative of Undermine: Gertrude
Stein’s Multiplicity,” Disjunctive poetics: from Gertrude Stein and Louis Zukofsky to Susan How
(Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1992) 21-43.
203
6.9
Summary: Voice of Responsibility
Ravikovitch employs the technique of ‘hermeneutic lag’ as a literary enterprise to voice
challenge to the boundaries and systems of her cultural milieu. She works her
subversion from within.58 She operates within the system of classical Jewish texts and
law, employing Scriptures and legal midrash to undermine the same. Ultimately the
speaker makes use of one ancient Israelite ceremony to dislodge the authoritative clout
of another. The voice calls for the assumption of responsibility, not its divestment.
Assumption of responsibility at the collective level entails the manifestation of humane
love at the collective level. While the previous self-portraits were connected to the
lovelorn persona’s personal experience of love in dissatisfying proportions, this portrait
is linked to her observations regarding a demonstrated and marked lack of love in
social, socio-political and cross-cultural arenas.
The persona paints her portrait in this poem as the voice of responsibility. It is from
within the non-life-threatening space of ‘hermeneutic lag’ that she enunciates and poses
challenge. She undermines the notion that expiation can be made for civilian lives lost in
daily struggles for existence and instances of ‘othering’. She makes it known that all
human beings on each side of a conflict or boundary are responsible for human rights
and the sanctity of human life. ‘All’ includes national elders, religious elders, military
elders and states people. ‘All’ includes everyday mothers and fathers, sisters and
brothers, lovers and partners and mentors: in short, anyone who contributes to shaping
mentality and therefore to shaping future. Ravikovitch’s shaping medium is poetry with
its capacity to breathe life in every language and potential to traverse cultural
boundaries without incurring fatalities.
58
Linda Hutcheon notes that postmodernism is a cultural enterprise that “works within the very systems
it attempts to subvert […]” See: Linda Hutcheon, A Poetics of Postmodernism (New York and London:
Routledge, 1988) 4. Emphasis added.
204
Chapter Seven
Summoning Memory and Deliberate Forgetting
7.1
Preamble
The previous chapter showed a portrait of a voice of responsibility speaking with regard
to the sanctity of human life. In sounding her vocal cords of poetry the persona lithely
traverses cultural boundaries without incurring fatalities. In drifting effortlessly through
the translucent membranes that divide mindsets, the persona seeks to shape a global
mentality of responsibility and reverence for human life. This chapter shows a portrait of
the poet engaged in the writing process on both the individual and collective levels, with
a focus on memory. On the collective level she seeks a memory whose attributes have
bearing on humanitarian issues. On the personal level she seeks a memory whose
scope permits her both access to the details of a particular memory and the luxury to let
them fade away.
This self-portrait will be examined through the lens of the poem Zikkaron tamim [A Pure
Memory; Pure Memory; A Whole Memory; An Intact Memory; A Perfect Memory]:1
‫זכרון תמים‬
‫ַרק ְכּ ֶשׁ ַה ָפּנִ ים נִ ְמ ָחקוֹת‬
,‫ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ִל ְזכֹּר פֹּה ָד ָבר ִבּ ְשׁ ֵלמוּתוֹ‬
.‫ַרק ְכּ ֶשׁ ַה ָפּנִ ים נִ ְמ ָחקוֹת‬
‫תּוֹל ִלים‬
ְ ‫וְ ָהאוֹרוֹת ִמ ְשׁ‬
.‫חוֹר ִגים ִמ ִמּ ְסגָּרוֹת‬
ְ ‫וְ ַה ְצּ ָב ִעים‬
.‫חוֹלים נִ ְכ ִפּים‬
ָ
ִ ‫קוֹמם ְכּמוֹ‬
ָ ‫כּוֹכ ִבים צוֹנְ ִחים ִמ ְמּ‬
‫ָקים‬
ִ ‫ֶאנ‬
ֱ ‫אָרץ נ‬
ֶ ‫ִדּ ָשׁ ִאים ִמן ָה‬
.(‫ישׁה‬
ָ ‫יח ָתם גָּדוֹל ֵמ ֶח ְב ֵלי ַה ְכּ ִמ‬
ָ ‫) ְכּ ֵאב ְצ ִמ‬
1
Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch translate the title as “Pure Memory” in: Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and
Bloch, The Window, 52. Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld translate the title as “A Pure Whole
Memory” in: Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 137.
205
‫ָכּל ַה ְדּ ָב ִרים ֶשׁ ָטּ ִחים ֶאת ֵעינֵינוּ‬
,‫סוֹגים ֶאל ַה ְצּ ָל ִלים‬
ִ ְ‫נ‬
.‫וְ גַם ַה ָפּנִ ים‬
.‫ֲמ ִקּים‬
ַ ‫ַמ ֶשּׁהוּ זָע ַבּ ַמּע‬
‫ָמים‬
ִ ‫ַכּ ָמּה י‬
‫וּר ָע ִמים‬
ְ ‫ סוּפוֹת‬,‫ַכּ ָמּה ָשׁנִ ים‬
‫ִח ִכּינוּ ָלזֶה ֶשׁיִּ ְפרֹץ‬
,‫ֵמע ֶֹמק ָה ֲא ָד ָמה‬
‫ִז ָכּרוֹן ֶא ָחד ָתּ ִמים‬
‫שׁוֹשׁן‬
ָ ‫ְכּ ֶפ ַרח‬
2
.‫אָדֹם ָבּ ִהיר‬
Pure Memory
Only when the faces are blotted out
is it possible to remember anything here in its entirety
only when the faces are blotted out.
And then the lights go wild
and the colours burst their frames.
Stars plummet from their places like epileptics.
From the earth grasses groan
(the ache of their growth greater than pain of withering).
Everything that obscures our vision
retreats into the shadows,
the faces too.
Something stirs in the depths.
How many days,
how many years, storms and thunderbolts
have we waited for
a single pure memory
to burst forth
from the depths of the earth,
like a lily
bright red.3
2
Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim 161.
3
The choices of “blotted out”, “Then the lights go wild”, “Something stirs in the depths” correspond to
the turns of phrase in the translation of Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch in: Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and
Bloch, The Window, 52. The remainder is the translation that I favour. For example, I prefer the
translation of “lily” to Bloch and Bloch’s “poppy” for the Hebrew shoshan. The term shoshan or “lily”
sparks a desirable allusion to the lilies of the Song of Songs, where lilies abound: the female lover of
the Song of Songs is likened by her beloved to a lily (2:2); the female lover likens the lips of her
206
A key expression, zikkaron tamim - memory described as tamim, functions as the key to
this self-portrait. At first glance zikkaron tamim connotes a ‘pure or ‘perfect’ memory,
one that is wholly intact. This chapter investigates the contextual sense of this
expression. Its occurrence at the apex of the poem begs the following questions. Just
what is a ‘pure’ or ‘perfect’ memory? Does such a memory exist?
This chapter will outline and bring to bear findings of a Hebrew and Aramaic semantic
range study that I conducted in order to explore the scope and implications of the word
tamim. Two in particular strain against one another: ‘entirely completed’ and ‘entirely
depleted’. I will investigate their function in the context of the poem and reflect on their
implications for memory.
On the collective level it will be argued that through linguistic encryption of multiple
nuances, the persona of Ravikovitch’s oeuvre conveys a strong message in Zikkaron
tamim: only when collectively held profiling of Israel’s ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’ yields to
the precedence of human rights, do disparate groups claiming Israel as their own hold
any hope of generating future memories: memories that may spring forth from the earth
like lilies: exquisitely formed, vividly colourful, and perfectly whole.
On the individual level it will be similarly argued that by investing the term zikkaron
tamim with multiple nuances, the persona writes her angst over personal memories of
childhood trauma. Their tension can only be eased to the point of ‘bearable’ when she is
either charged with eros or occupied with her writing process. She paints herself
engaged in the latter pursuit in Zikkaron tamim. Through her writing process, she seeks
a tolerable daily construct of consciousness: one that will allow her to function
somewhere along the continuum that stretches between fully remembering and
completely forgetting.
beloved to lilies dripping with myrrh (5:13); the beloved she seeks has gone down to browse among
the lilies (6:2), an so forth. The Song of Songs, as shown previously in this study, is an intertext of
choice for the speaker of the poems who indentifies, in a number of self-portraits, with the female lover
of the Song of Songs, especially in affairs of the heart. I prefer the translation of “bright red” for the
flower colour noted as ’adom bahir, rather than Bloch and Kronfeld’s choice of “pale red”; “bright”
colour accords with the speaker’s need for sudden bursts of beauty and colour to distract her from the
aches of daily life. See Chapter 3, particularly regarding Shir shel hesberim.
207
7.2
Descent into the Writing Process: Vertical Descent and
Sensory Acuity; Factoring in Features and Blotting Out
Faces
In Zikkkaron tamim the speaker begins by elaborating her familiar descent into the
writing process. It is the one that characterizes her preferred mode for the writing of
bios. For her, writing through ‘conscious consciousness’ involves crystal clear
awareness as shown in Chapter Four: “Then it will all pass, and you’ll be pure crystal.”4
Just as she yearns for an astonishing flowering of bright colour, as in Shir shel
hesberim,5 and craves concentrated essence as in Portret,6 in Zikkaron tamim the
speaker thirsts for a ‘pure’ memory. She paints her portrait as summoning this kind of
memory on both the personal and collective levels.
As noted in Chapter Four there are two integral phenomena which presage the
persona’s fruitful bouts of writing. One involves a heightening of sensory perception; a
second entails vertical descent. Chapter Four shows, for example, that the persona
conveys heightened sensory perception in brushstrokes depicting walls growing taller
and colours gaining in intensity.7 The same chapter also shows that the speaker paints
a vertical sweep from the uppermost edges of those walls downward toward the
subterranean blue depth-of-a-well. I note both phenomena in Zikkaron tamim as well.
In her heightened sensory state the speaker perceives that the “lights go wild.” She also
detects nascent energy in the adjacent paintings of her metaphoric gallery of selfportraits: she remarks their strokes of colour audaciously overrunning the strongholds of
their frames and spreading beyond their bounds: “and the colours burst their frames.”8
4
Ravikovitch, “Surely You Remember,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 111.
5
Ravikovitch, “Shir shel hesberim,” Kol ha-shirim, 193-194.
6
Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.
7
Ravikovitch, “’’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116.
8
This wording is similar to that of Psalms 18:46, translated in JPS Tanakh as: “foreign peoples lose
courage, and come trembling out of their strongholds.”
:‫יהם‬
ֶ ‫רוֹת‬
ֵ ‫ַח ְרגוּ ִמ ִמּ ְס ְגּ‬
ְ ‫ֵכר יִ בֹּלוּ וְ י‬
ָ ‫ְבּנֵי נ‬
208
The speaker uses a similar turn of phrase in a poem called Simanim [Signs] that
bespeaks acute sensory awareness on the part of the persona as she tries to settle into
her writing:
,‫נוֹפ ֶלת‬
ֶ ‫ְכּ ֶשׁ ַהכּוֹס‬
,‫ְר ִסיס נִ ָתּז‬
‫וּפ ַסּת נְ יָר נִ ְשׁ ֶמ ֶטת‬
ִ
‫וּמ ֶשּׁהוּ זָח אוֹ זָז‬
ַ
‫ֶרת ַהנְּ כוֹנָה‬
ֶ ‫חוֹרג ִמן ַה ִמּ ְסגּ‬
ֵ ‫וּמ ֶשּׁהוּ‬
ַ
9
[...]
When a glass drops,
a sherd is scattered,
a scrap of paper slips
and something stirs or starts
and something bursts its proper bounds
[…]10
In addition to sensing the ‘bold outbreak’ in Simanim, the persona conveys the by-now
familiar vertical course of movement: a glass drops and one of its sherds is sent flying.
With her intensified sensory acuity, the persona of Zikkaron tamim perceives that the
stars are seized with episodes of trembling and falling. She builds both into descending
vertical brushstrokes embellished with the spasmodic arcs and ripples of the stars as
they “plummet from their places like epileptics”. Her senses are very finely attuned given
9
Ravikovitch, “Simanim,” Kol ha-shirim, 274.
10
This translation is based on: Ravikovitch, “Signs and Portents,” Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and
Kronfeld, Hovering, 207. This recurring bursting of bounds which sends colours and sherds flying, is
reminiscent of the Lurianic qabbalistic notion of shevirat ha-kelim – the idea that the primordial light of
Creation was so bright and so powerful that the figurative vessels of the world could not contain it: they
burst apart. Further, according to this trend in thinking, our mandate is to go about our lives and mend
Creation with our deeds; that is we are to figuratively gather those scattered sherds and reunite them
in symbolic repair of the wholeness of Creation. This endeavour is known as tiqqun ‘olam. By
extension, the poet conveys that when she is truly inspired to write poetry, and commences her
familiar ‘descent into writing’, the poetry brewing is so powerful that it is as explosive as the primordial
light of Creation. With heightened perception, she perceives the poetry in its raw or nascent state as
colours bursting the strongholds of their frames, as the force that motivates some fragment or scrap or
sherd to ‘stir or start’, to fly exquisitely through the air, ‘to burst its proper bounds’. As shown in
Segment 2.5 the poet would like to be the pure crystal through which the poetry passes en route to
paper.
209
that all detractors withdraw from her field of perception: “Everything that obscures our
vision / retreats into the shadows […]”
In visually tracking the stars’ unconventional arabesques downward, the persona
notices that “Something stirs in the depths.” A similar stirring occurs in the excerpt of
Simanim shown above. For the poet-persona, this ‘stirring in the depths’ is an extremely
positive sign. It heralds the onset of a bout of fruitful writing. It marks the “transcendent
reality […] committed to a vertical thrust from consciousness down into the unconscious
[…]”
11
essential to writing bios. It signals the imperative descent to the nether realms
deep within which “the treasure of writing lies, where it is formed, where it has stayed
since the beginning of creation: down below.”12
Zikkaron tamim adds a novel element to the persona’s pre-writing experience. While
she takes into account some minute details through sensory perception, other features
are deliberately obliterated: “the faces are blotted out.” In initial readings of the poem
this phenomenon persists as counterintuitive to that of heightened sensory perception.
One would expect that sensory acuity would sharpen the speaker’s perception of facial
detail, not blot it out. Crystal clear consciousness would presumably yield a detailed
view of visible features, not stipulate their retreat “into the shadows” along with
“Everything that obscures our vision […]” The phenomenon is nevertheless emphasized
through varied repetitions in the first, third and eleventh lines:
Only when the faces are blotted out
is it possible to remember anything here in its entirety
only when the faces are blotted out.
[…]
Everything that obscures our vision
retreats into the shadows,
the faces too.
11
Olney, Memory/Bios, 239.
12
Cixous, Ladder of Writing, 118.
210
The gist of the repetitions is that the deliberate repression of faces is somehow
necessary for the retrieval of a ‘pure’ memory. The counterintuitive character of this
element, underscored thrice through repetition, demands further attention. The
examination of the poem will revisit the function and import of this phenomenon after
introducing the results of the mentioned semantic range study of tamim as they apply to
memory.
7.3
Semantic Range Study: “tamim”
The persona exhibits a strong desire to gain access to zikkaron tamim – an intact or
pure or perfect memory. I find the Hebrew term intriguing because of the plethora of
nuances that adhere to the descriptor tamim in the layers of the Hebrew language. Its
echoes of personal integrity abound beginning with the earliest scriptural narrative
layers. Noah is depicted as ’ish tzaddiq tamim,13 meaning a righteous and perfect
individual.14 Abraham is commanded to walk before God and be tamim – “be perfect” in
absolute terms in preparation for the establishment of a covenant with God.15
The scriptural echoes of tamim grow to include connotations of unmarred physical
wholeness in the context of ritual purity in the priestly code, as Leviticus enumerates
sacrifices. For sacrifices to God the contributors were to select animals of the herd and
flock that were tamim: “without blemish.”16
There are, of course, connotations beyond these as well. To find the full scope of
biblical nuances of the word tamim from which contemporary echoes grow, I conducted
a semantic range study. The study encompasses the word tamim along with a Hebrew
counterpart shalem17 in the bible. The study also encompasses shelim and shelam,
13
Genesis 6:9.
14
Ibn Ezra interprets the gist of the epithet (loc. cit.), deemed bipartite by virtue of the masoretic symbols,
as righteous in deed and perfect at heart.
15
Koren Bible, Genesis 17:1.
16
Koren Bible, Leviticus 1:3, 1:10.
17
In Genesis 33:18 Jacob is described with this synonym, as having returned to Canaan wholly intact
physically, materially and in terms of emotional wellbeing, with Rachel and Leah, Bilha and Zilpa and
211
counterparts to tamim in Aramaic targumic texts. The results of the study, whose length
and complexity preclude its detailed inclusion in this thesis, are represented in the form
of a chart below. Each nuance appears in relation to the context of the scriptural milieux
in which it occurs.18
NUANCE
CONTEXT
time frames
1. entire, full
payment – ‫שלם‬/‫ שלים‬only in this second
aspect
2. unblemished
sacrifice
physical, material, intellectual and
3. intact
emotional well being –Hebrew ‫; ָשׁ ֵלם‬
Aramaic forms of ‫שלם‬
4. perfect
God; God’s expectations of certain
individuals
deed, thought and speech: alignment
5.
principled, acting with
of hand, heart and voice in human
integrity
conduct, including worship of God
1. acting with sincerity, without wile or
guile
2. acting blamelessly, in innocence, in
good faith
human intention that motivates speech
and deed
human intention that motivates speech
and deed
their children, their livestock and possessions. The reference is to Jacob’s return from a risky reunion
with his brother Esau of previously-declared homicidal inclination. The reunion followed a lengthy and
trying sojourn with his less-than-scrupulous uncle, Lavan. The phrase used in Genesis 33:18 is: vayavo Ya‘aqov shalem.
Koren Tanakh translates shalem, usually construed as ‘complete’ or ‘whole’, as “safe” in Genesis
33:18: “Jacob arrived safe […]”
18
See Appendix B.
212
6. spiritually at one with God
spiritual reverence for God
7. unanimous, unanimously
responses: in word and deed
8.
sharing singularity of purpose,
in league with
initiatives, collaborative plans –
Hebrew forms of ‫ שלם‬and ‫ ; ְבּ ֵל ָבב ָשׁ ֵלם‬Aramaic
forms of ‫ שלם‬and ‫בלב שלים‬
9. wholly completed, fully concluded
construction - ‫ ְשׁ ִלם‬only
10. wholly depleted, entirely finished
commodities
Should readers relish an academic exercise, they can apply each nuance to the single
‘pure’ memory that the persona seeks. The application yields relevant readings of a
‘pure’ memory on both the individual and collective levels. Several are listed here, with
latitude in articulation. They are numbered to correspond with the numbering shown in
the chart of nuances.
1) one entire memory
2) one unflawed memory
3) a single memory, wholly intact in its recollection
4) a single perfect memory
5) a memory characterized by integrity:
a) integrity of that remembered
i) one innocent memory characterized by blamelessness;
b) integrity on the part of the person or group remembering
i) one sincere, guileless memory lacking in deception
Of course this list could go on to parallel all ten nuances identified in the study, but an
extended academic exercise is rather rigid for the fluidity of poetry. Capacity to invest a
poem with multiple nuances, however, is not. That capacity is the stock and trade of
creative modes of writing, particularly the poetry. Poets like Dahlia Ravikovitch
practically inhale multiple nuances through their knowledge of the language and
literature of classical and contemporary sources. They allow them to circulate through
213
their respiratory systems and to influence one another in the bloodstream; then the
poets exhale them through their ink into the contexts of their concentration.
In reviewing the nuances uncovered in the accompanying semantic range study, I
immediately notice an interesting feature of the word-network of tamim. The nuance
cluster carries connotations of ‘whole’ or ’finished’ both in the sense of ‘wholly
completed’ and ‘wholly depleted’. For better or worse there are some inextricable
crossovers between these seemingly opposed nuances stemming from their biblical
uses. We can appreciate the cross-fertilization that such circumstances precipitate.
Language and ideas benefit from such open possibilities and enrichment.
That such circumstances challenge ‘fixity’ of meaning is the facilitator of a prominent
device of postmodernism as it applies to poetics. As we saw in Chapter Six, this device
may be referred to as a set of techniques for the ‘sealing and unsealing’ of meaning, a
cultural means for the challenging of boundaries and systems from within. Postmodern
poetics have been at play as long as there has been language; in other words, for as
long as there have been borders of meaning to prod.
7.4
A ‘Pure’ Personal Memory: Wholly Completed and
Wholly Depleted
The persona speaks in the first person plural, an indication that we may read her desire
as a quest for collective memory. She also speaks impersonally, saying “Only when […]
is it possible […]”.19 Accordingly we can also read the desire on the level of the
individual seeking the wholeness of a personal recollection, one that her naivety or
capacity to remember had previously withheld from access. The next segments of this
chapter investigate the ways in which the tension between ‘wholly completed’ and
‘wholly depleted’ are relevant to the poem on both these levels.
19
Hebrew syntax encompasses some subject-ambiguous, number-neutral, gender neutral expressions
which figure in impersonal sentences. These begin with introductory phrases such as “it is
possible/impossible”, “it is worthwhile/not worthwhile”, “it is permitted/prohibited” and so forth, followed
by an infinitive. This syntax is referred to in Hebrew as stami. The subject is generally to be inferred
from context and can be a specific individual, a specific collective or a general collective.
214
As has become apparent through the poems and excerpts examined to this point,
themes of death factor into a significant number of the persona’s self-portraits. To speak
of memory on a personal level, some of these instances pertain to the death of the
speaker’s father in a car accident when she was a young child. Years of her life and
portions of her corpus are spent trying to cope in some way with the memory of this
trauma that has had enormous bearing on the shape of her psyche and its emotional
manifestations. It is in relation to this memory that two particular nuances take hold:
‘whole’ in the sense of ‘wholly completed’ or ‘fully concluded’; and ‘whole’ in the sense
of ‘wholly depleted’, ‘entirely finished’.
On the one hand, her father’s death is a memory that the speaker, like Dahlia
Ravikovitch herself, never fully possesses. In fact the circumstances of Dahlia
Ravikovitch’s father’s death were kept from her, in her naivety – temimut, by relatives for
close to two years after he died.20 This well-intentioned plan had dire consequences for
the girl who became the woman and poet. The poetry reveals the persona enmeshed in
a search of a fuller, more detailed account of her father’s death. In this respect the first
and ninth nuances listed in the semantic range apply to the quality of memory sought:
tamim as ‘whole’ in the sense of ‘entire’, and tamim as ‘whole’ in the sense of ‘fully
completed’. The persona wants a fully constructed version of the ‘implanted’ yet deeply
felt memory. The persona needs closure.
On the other hand, the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch delivers an unambiguous statement
that there are some recollections which the persona would like to have over and done
with. As outlined in Chapter Two in an untitled poem about her father, the persona
conveys that every night in her sleep she is condemned to attend the site of the car
accident that claimed his life, and to relive every terrifying detail.21 Understandably the
20
Dalia Karpel, “Ba’a ve-halekha,” Musaf Ha-’aretz, 18.8.06. In a retrospective article, Karpel reviews
that Dahlia’s mother, Mikhal, was persuaded to move the family from suburban Ramat Gan to
Kevutzat Geva following the car accident of her husband, Leo. Leo, also known as Levi Ravikovitch
was originally from Russia and had made his way to Israel from Harbin, China. Dahlia Ravikovitch was
six years old at the time of the accident. Her twin brothers, Ahiqam and Amiram, were about six
months old.
21
Ravikovitch, “[‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela],” Kol ha-shirim, 24.
215
speaker desires an end to this nightmare galaxy and a way for its details to be
diminished. In this respect, the tenth nuance listed applies: ‘whole’ in the sense of
‘wholly depleted’, ‘fully finished’.
In Zikkaron tamim as well as in her writing in general, the speaker grapples with both
desperation to consciously recall and impetus to deliberately forget. This opposition is
not simply a personal quirk. It is an insistently human tension. The dialectic relationship
between these inescapable impulses is well articulated in the writings of Herbert
Marcuse. This philosopher and sociologist reflected on remembrance, forgetting and
civilization as follows:
This ability to forget – itself the result of a long and terrible education
by experience – is an indispensible requirement of mental and physical
hygiene without which civilized life would be unbearable; but it is also the
mental faculty which sustains submissiveness and renunciation. To forget
is also to forgive what should not be forgiven if justice and freedom are to
prevail.22
In the process of seeking a specific personal recollection, the persona must
simultaneously summon perfect memory and struggle with at least a benign modicum of
forgetting. Without the latter, she would be neither able to rise each morning and clothe
herself in ‘non-choking apparel’, nor function in the world. As noted, the only time the
persona’s malaise is alleviated is when she is charged with the energy and sensations
of eros or deeply engaged in the vital creative process of her poetry writing. For her
writing, however, the tension between desperation to consciously recall and impetus to
deliberately forget becomes highly problematic in the context of a ‘pure’ collective
memory.
7.5
A ‘Perfect’ Collective Memory: Faces and Facets
Dahlia Ravikovitch was a proponent of grass-roots peace initiatives in Israel. Her
conscience was troubled by flawed collective historical, religious, geographical and
cultural memories on the parts of groups which consider one another Israel’s ‘insiders’
22
Herbert Marcuse, “Eros and Thanatos,” Sigmund Freud, ed. Harold Bloom (New York: Chelsea
House, 1985) 12. Henceforth: Marcuse, “Eros and Thanatos.”
216
and ‘outsiders’ regarding territorial matters, sovereignty issues, religious prerogatives,
living conditions and rights to live and let live. This is the collective backdrop against
which the context of Zikkaron tamim comes into play. With that in mind, a number of the
nuances of the word tamim come into play as descriptors of the word ‘memory’.
The persona installs the nuance of ‘whole’ in the sense of ‘complete memory’ through
the title of the poem, its varied repetition in the last stanza as “a single perfect memory”,
and through the firm support of the expression davar bi-shelemuto – “anything here in its
wholeness” in the second line of the poem. Our first impression is that the speaker
wishes to gain access to a full memory. The second stanza complicates the impression.
When we encounter the colloquial expression in the second stanza regarding
dispensing with “everything that obscures our vision” we realize that the blotting out of
faces, mentioned twice by this point in the poem, is more complex than the removal of
deceptive detractors; it has to do with obliterating perceptions of ‘insiders’ and
‘outsiders’. The word panim, collective in construction whether used as ‘face’ or ‘faces’,
also carries the meaning of ‘facets’. This concentration of multiple connotations boosts
the effects of the word, and its nuances spill over into the third mention of panim:
“Everything that obscures our vision / retreats into the shadows, / the faces too.”23
The revelation, concealment or denial of human faces or facets of any issue, has a
great deal to do with perception. It pertains to the way in which any group perceives its
collective memory and links that memory to its rights to exist with respect and security in
Israel. Collective memory is, like personal memory, fraught with tension borne of
summoning complete and accurate recollection of a past not fully known, nor
necessarily experienced first hand, and of filtering it through the partial recall of
contemporary eyelids. This predicament affects perception of the many faces of the
jewel which is Israel, as well as perception of the light refracted through its facets:
cultural, historical, religious, and territorial, to name just a few.
23
In light of the double entendre of the word panim, an alternate reading would be: “Everything that
obscures our vision / retreats into the shadows, / the facets too.”
217
Along related lines, albeit on a rather concrete level, Chapter Six analyzes a poem
based on an actual occurrence in which the onlookers could not get past the ‘face’ of
the victim. Each group considered his face that of an ‘outsider’. Neither group came to
the aid of this fatally wounded individual. The speaker of the poem ‘Egla ‘arufa offsets
that disturbing reality by portraying the victim as anonymous. After he loses the
accoutrements of his identity in stumbling to the ground, the speaker portrays him as a
blood soaked amorphous human being. As readers of the poem we come face to face
with our own perceptions of ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’ and discern our own perception of
the facets of the issues arising from related collective memory.
To restore attention to Zikkaron tamim, there is a question that begs asking: is there any
such thing as a ‘pure’ memory, a ‘perfect’ memory, an ‘unflawed’, ‘blameless’, ‘innocent’
memory, one which is ‘sincere’ and devoid of self-serving wiles? A related question is
whether there is any group in Israel and her surroundings that can claim that its
collective memory is wholly ‘intact’ and entirely ‘unblemished’. The poet persona sounds
all of these notes of the term tamim at once in the achingly rhetorical question that
concludes the poem:
How many days,
how many years, storms and thunderbolts
have we waited for
a single pure memory
to burst forth
from the depths of the earth,
like a lily
bright red.
Does the persona invoke her much-loved bright red lily24 for its adored organic burst of
perfection, one that can only take place when perceptions about ‘faces’ of ‘insiders’ and
‘outsiders’ are put aside, so that all lives may be fully lived? Alternately is its sudden,
whole and powerful presence a sign of something more sinister? The answers, of
24
The speaker extols the lily’s aptitude for choosing its own colours and for its blinding power in:
Ravikovitch, “Shir shel hesberim,” Kol ha-shirim, 193-194. She sorely misses its astonishing
colourburst in: Ravikovitch, “Yereq ‘alim,” Kol ha-shirim, 301-302.
218
course, depend on the nuances which we bring to bear on the word tamim. A memory
that is perfectly pure and ‘lily white’ in the eyes of one group might be stained scarlet
with bloodshed in the eyes of another. This is the conundrum of the ‘perfect’ and ‘pure’
collective memory for which the persona aches.
7.6
Summary
Zikkaron tamim, simply translated, means a ‘pure’ or ‘perfect’ or ‘intact’ memory. A
semantic range study of the descriptor tamim reveals a wider range of connotations. It
carries at least ten nuances, two of which strain one against the other: ‘complete’ in the
senses of ‘wholly completed’ and ‘wholly depleted’.
With the title Zikkaron tamim, the poet installs the nuance of ‘complete’ for the memory
she seeks. She seals in that nuance temporarily with the words “anything here in its
entirety” in the second line. Subsequently this becomes the very concept that she seeks
to challenge. She unseals that connotation by skilfully and artistically allowing the word
tamim to resonate with multiple nuances. In doing so the speaker ensures that her
poem resists static denotation. In this manner she challenges her readers to ask pointed
questions and wrestle with their answers. True to postmodern poetics, in defying ‘fixity’
of meaning through the activation of a word’s multiple nuances, among other means,
poets open worlds of connotations in their works. With this technique they multiply the
facets of each poem, multiply the paths that readers can take to and from the poem,
and multiply the frames of reference with which they can construct its readings thereby
inviting multiple ‘readings’ of meaning.
Zikkaron tamim is the self-portrait of the persona who is grappling with the concept of a
‘pure’ memory. On the personal level she struggles with a traumatic memory which she
wishes were ‘perfect’. For her, ‘perfect’ would require that the memory be ‘intact’ or
‘finished’, both in the sense of ‘wholly completed’ and ‘wholly depleted’. On the
collective level the persona wrestles with the subjectivity of vision that ultimately
precludes a single ‘pure’ collective memory and affects perception of the faces and
facets of the peoples and issues of contemporary Israel. This prismatic self-portrait
219
reveals the persona simultaneously summoning ‘perfect’ memories and struggling with
a healthful iota of deliberate forgetting.
On the personal level a benign degree of forgetting would spell relief for the speaker
and permit her to function in the world on a daily basis. Her throat would relax25 and her
‘white ink’ of eros and écriture féminine would flow.26 She could dress unselfconsciously
in the garb of royalty, take up her scribe’s quill, and chant belles chansons for the king.27
On the level of collective memory a quotient of deliberate forgetting is more problematic.
If only there were a way to determine the perfect ratio of collective remembrance to
forgetting. The first is vital to civilization; the second is “an indispensible requirement of
mental and physical hygiene”.28 That ratio could be used to determine a significant point
along the continuum between remembering and forgetting. That point would constitute
the time and place when and where something that “stirs in the depths” of creativity
would “burst forth / from the depths of the earth”.
Metaphorically speaking, that ‘something’ would be endless fields of stunning red lilies.
Just as the female lover in the Song of Songs really knows she could find the beloved
she seeks among the lilies29 for a reunion of rapture, so Israel and her prospective
partners, each with constructive fine-tuning of collective memory, could opt for a future
meeting among the ‘bright red lilies’.
In a similarly poetic metaphor of flora, Yehuda Amichai also subtly suggests that parties
staking exclusive claim to Israel must fine-tune their attitude toward collective memory:
no matter how ‘right’ any party’s claim may be, there can be no blossoming of new life
where the debris of battle or the trampling of intransigence mars the landscape. He
writes:
25
See Chapter 4, especially Segment 4.7.
26
See Chapter 4, especially Segment 4.5, Subsections (i) and (ii).
27
See Chapter 4, especially Segment 4.3.
28
Marcuse, “Eros and Thanatos,” 12.
29
Song of Songs 6:1-2.
220
From the place where we are right,
flowers will never grow
in the spring.30
Ultimately, Zikkaron tamim is the self-portrait of the persona using her writing process to
contend both with personal remembrance and with the same tincture of collective hubris
that we detect in Amichai’s poem. The poet conveys that the problematic facets of ‘pure’
‘perfect’ or ‘intact’ personal and collective memory must be broached. Only that way can
individuals and groups claiming Israel as their own, hold any hope of generating
‘perfect’ future memories to be perceived of as springing forth from the earth like lilies:
exquisitely formed, vividly colourful, perfect in their entirety.
30
Yehuda Amichai, “Ha-maqom she-bo ’anu tzodeqim,” Amichai, Shirei Yehuda Amichai, Vol. 1, 258.
221
Summary
8.1
Lamenting Poet
This study begins with an analysis of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poetry that accounts for her
renown as ‘the lamenting poet’. Her work reflects intimate knowledge of the hallmarks of
biblical and medieval Hebrew lament as well as conversance with those in the poetry of
the early modern Hebrew writers. She incorporates their literary themes, metric
traditions and language conventions. She builds innovatively upon them in her
contemporary Hebrew poems. Her capacity for the genre of lament resounds across the
personal lyrical and collective expressive scope of her oeuvre.
8.2
Lamenting Lovelorn Soul
Through further textual analysis it becomes clear that the persona perpetually suffers
from conditions of love. She experiences love in unsuitable proportions. She feels that
she receives too little. She is conscious that she gives too much. She experiences love,
even when accessible, as an affliction. She actually laments love. This study contributes
to the body of research on the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch by expanding and
developing the poet’s original epithet, through literary analysis, to ‘the lamenting
lovelorn soul’.
8.3
Kindred Spirit of the Lover of the Song of Songs: “For I
am sick with love.”
I view the speaker as akin to the woman at the heart of one of the best-known love
poems in the Song of Songs who sings:
Sustain me with ‘sweet delicacies’,
Bolster me with apples,
For I am sick with love.1
1
Song of Songs 2:5.
222
The female lover of the Song of Songs experiences a wide range of emotions and
sensations that accompany the experience of awakening love. She and her beloved
find, release and continue to seek one another in playful bouts and fevered pursuit, in
dream scene and conscious quest and every register of love in between.
Ravikovitch’s speaker is not familiar with the mid-range registers of love, only its
extreme heights and depths. She perceives these so keenly that she experiences them
not only emotionally, but physically as well. The physical intensity of her emotions
reminds me of a powerful line in a novel by Anne Enright, The Gathering.2 There,
Enright speaks of “this grief that is almost genital.”3 Ravikovitch’s persona experiences
love similarly, in that inestimably embedded organic mode: for her the ‘conditions’ of
love are so palpable and so urgent that they are ‘almost genital’. They manifest
themselves in contrasting physical sensations and intense cravings. She forever feels
too hot or too cold. Her throat constricts and occasionally releases. She thirsts for pure
essence and hungers for pure memory.
8.4
Rare Equilibrium: Eros
On rare occasions the speaker attains a sense of equilibrium in matters of love and
desire. Her experience of eros is a full-body experience. She sinks into a cloud of
pleasant sensation; she settles into marvelous natural matter; she radiates with the
lucidity of gold and flows with the fluidity of oil of frankincense into a lush and silent
envelopment; she rests on the surface of the earth and merges organically with the
herbs and grasses of creation.
8.5
Existential Malaise: A Gaping Void
At most other times the persona is aware of the void in her soul. She is left bereft and in
want. Even oceans of the ‘vanilla’ for which she so desperately yearns would not suffice
2
Anne Enright, The Gathering (New York: Grove Press, 2007). Henceforth: Enright, The Gathering.
3
Enright, The Gathering, 7.
223
to alleviate the malaise of her love-affliction nor fill the gaping chasm. Other than eros,
the only thing that comes close to offering relief is total immersion in poetry. Particularly
relieving is her self-writing process. It entails fully-absorbing crystal-clear consciousness
that facilitates the written- performativity of bios.
8.6
Convergence of Eros and Creative Vitality
The convergence of eros and creative vitality associated with her writing is an essential
key to the self constructed in the poems. This convergence informs the speaker’s
personal version of ‘sweet delicacies and apples’.4 The nexus of eros and creativity
presents as the substance of existential sustenance which the persona profoundly
craves in order to go on living, loving and writing. This is so on a personal level. It also
holds true when she exerts the voice of responsibility on the collective level.
8.7
Estranged Soul: Fiery Shipwreck in Endless Waters
The persona’s Ariadne’s thread, metaphorically wound about with ‘sweet delicacies and
apples’, is steeped in ‘vanilla’. On the one hand it is the memory-shaping filament that
could lead her out of her labyrinthine nettle of love. On the other hand the persona’s
Ariadne’s thread is a fuse leading to fire. Owing to her sometimes ‘mistaken’ or ‘out of
bounds’ love which we can read on one level as apostasy, and her conviction of
estrangement from divine love, the speaker is already in flames. She resigns herself to
an ultimate purification of her soul through flame and water. She resolves to become a
shipwreck on fire; only ‘endless waters’ can serve to extinguish her personal
conflagration.
8.8
4
Prismatic Self-portraiture: Means and Motifs
Based on Song of Songs 2:5. As noted in earlier chapters these substances of sustenance,
summoned by the female lover at the heart of one of the love poem of the Song of Songs, are
interpreted and translated variously as flagons of wine and apples (Ibn Ezra on Song of Songs 2:5),
and as raisin cakes and apples (JPS Tanakh, Song of Songs 2:5) and apples. Linguistically, ’ashishot
can be related to ’ashisha, the singular used in II Samuel 6:9 and in I Chronicles 16:3. There is a
suggestion that in those sources, the word might refer to a cluster of figs or a fruit cake. See:
“’Ashisha,” Qonqordantzya hadasha, ed. Avraham Even-Shoshan (Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer, 1990) 126.
224
This study contributes to the growing body of research on the poetry of Dahlia
Ravikovitch by identifying and analyzing seminal poems as prismatic self-portraits of a
lovelorn soul. They are painted in the life-conferring, productive ‘white ink’ of écriture
féminine. This study contributes as well by discerning and analyzing Ravikovitch’s
means and motifs for self-portraiture.
(i)
Means
Ravikovitch’s means consist primarily of skilful combining and contouring of elements
arising from the previous layers of Hebrew language and literature, particularly the
orchestration of their intertextual engagement with her poems. Her active memory is
rich with the wordings, structures, motifs, themes and cadences of the Hebrew bible.
Her imagination bursts with familiarity with the treasures of literature which sprang from
scriptures: Mishna, Talmud, halakhic and aggadic midrash, and Aramaic targumic texts.
To these she adds the gems of medieval5 and early modern Hebrew poetry.6
Ravikovitch’s means involve recourse to imagery and figures in additional literary
traditions. Among them are elements of ancient Greek,7 ancient Egyptian8 and Chinese9
mythology and philosophy.10
5
See, for example, the ‘apple poems’ by two of the Hebrew poets of Golden Age Spain, Moses Ibn Ezra
and Solomon Ibn Gabirol shown in Chapter 3. Ravikovitch endows the golden apple attributes similar
to those of its medieval ‘ancestors’. To these she adds her own innovative touches.
6
See, for example, Chapter 6 for Ravikovitch’s intertextual engagement of a poem written by Bialik in
reaction to the Kishinev pogroms of 1903: H.N. Bialik, “’Al ha-shehita,” Hayyim Nahman Bialik: hashirim, ed. Avner Holtzman, (Tel Aviv: Devir, 2004) 249.
7
Michal Ben-Naftali, for example, identifies some of the figures of Greek mythology in her article “Keri‘a:
’al yehasei ’em-bat be- ‘iqqevot ‘Ha-beged’ me-’et Dahlia Ravikovitch, Resling 7 (2000): 65-83. As well,
Ravikovitch’s work shows her familiarity with principles of Platonic philosophy regarding the disposition
of the soul after the body physically expires: see Chapter 5.
8
See Chapter 5 regarding ancient Egyptian mythological beliefs regarding the soul and its passage on
the solar boat of the sun deity, Ra.
9
Juliette Hassine outlines elements of Chinese alchemy at work in Ravikovitch’s poetry in: Shira umitos be-shiratah shel Dahlia Ravikovitch (Tel Aviv: Akad, 1989) 47.
10
In addition to her use of Hebrew sources, Ravikovitch draws on all of the literary traditions mentioned
above for symbolic motifs and concepts concerning the soul in this world, as well as for funerary
customs and rituals for the purification of the soul and transfer to an afterlife.
225
Ravikovitch’s means also include the deployment of postmodern poetics in the
dimensions of language. At times she employs her command of the classical Hebrew
sources to install voices of authority in her poetry, at others to undermine that authority.
In the space that results between such ‘sealing and unsealing’ of the poems,
Ravikovitch situates her voice of remonstration. In the ‘hermeneutic lag’ that elapses
between the moment readers notice that a change of course has occurred and the split
second when we reorient ourselves, we bring interpretation to bear and can construct
multiple readings of the poems.
(ii)
Motifs
Scholars in the field have noted some of the biblical images that play a role in the work
of Dahlia Ravikovitch. They have also given cursory attention to a handful of images
arising from rabbinic literature, noticeable at surface level. This thesis uncovers several
previously undetected biblical images in the poetry, through textual analysis, application
of a semantic range study and the complex reach of intertextuality. This study also
reveals the influence of a number of specific images rooted in rabbinic sources –
mishnaic, talmudic and midrashic, not previously identified. To these the study adds the
disclosure of images rooted in iconic medieval Hebrew hermeneutic commentaries on
classical Jewish sources and in the Hebrew belles lettres of that era as well. This study
uncovers the connection of the images to Ravikovitch’s corpus and suggests the
significance they present for generating and enriching a plurality of readings.
The following are among the major motifs discussed, which the speaker incorporates in
her gallery of self-portraits as brushstrokes of self: a love apple,11 a golden apple of
figurative language visible through silver filigree casings,12 a golden apple of belles
lettres,13 courtly love14 and eros,15 a poet,16 a prophet,17 wisdom,18 an individual suffering
11
Song of Songs 2:5.
12
Proverbs 25:11.
13
David, “Ha-mahberet ha-teshi‘i: ’Ahavat Sahar ve-Khima,” Sippurei ’ahava, 87-106.
14
Loc. cit.
226
a ‘condition’ of love,19 a figure of royalty clad in the fine raiment of royalty,20 a skilled
scribe,21 a chanteuse longing to sing for the king,22 the same chanteuse transformed as
a housebound ‘scribe’ suffering writer’s block and craving pure essence,23 a soul
yearning for eros,24 a soul charged with eros, a constricted throat,25 a throat released,26 a
throat open wide to exert the voice of responsibility27 and the voice of protest at full
capacity28 a soul with an impulse to depart from its earthly trappings and wing its way
back to the creator of heaven and earth,29 a shipwreck,30 an estranged soul,31 a
smouldering soul,32 a soul in flames,33 and a writer aching for a ‘pure’ memory.34 The
sheer number of engagements of Ravikovitch’s poetry with biblical, rabbinic and
medieval Hebrew sources indicates the degree to which the previous layers of Hebrew
language and literature are primary influences for her writing. Their sophisticated use at
15
Ibn Saqbel, Ne’um ’Asher ben Yehuda.
16
Abraham Ibn Ezra on Song of Songs 2:5.
17
18
Loc. cit.
Loc. cit.
19
Song of Songs 2:5.
20
Psalms 45:14-15.
21
Psalms 45:2.
22
Psalms 45:2, 16-17.
23
Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.
24
Loc. cit.
25
Loc. cit.; Shir hatzot 1970, Kol ha-shirim, 170; Simanim, Kol ha-shirim, 274; “Cinderella ba-mitbah,”
Kol ha-shirim, 227-228.
26
Ravikovitch, “’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116.
27
Ravikovitch, “‘Egla ‘arufa,” Kol ha-shirim, 253-254.
28
Ravikovitch, “’Eikh Hong Kong nehersa,” Kol ha-shirim, 119-121.
29
Psalms 124; Plato, Phaedo, 67a-e, in Plato: The Collected Dialogues, Including the Letters, eds. Edith
Hamilton and Huntington Cairns (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1061), 49-50.; Ravikovitch,
“Kemo rahel,” Kol ha-shirim, 190-191.
30
bYevamot 121a.
31
bHagiga 14b; yHagiga 2:1, 77b.
32
Sifrei Deut. Parashat Ha’azinu, pisqa 307 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 346.
33
34
Sifrei Deut. loc. cit.
Regarding the semantic range of the word “pure” – tamim, see Nos. Nine and Ten in the Table in
Chapter 7 and corresponding biblical and targumic sources in Appendix B.
227
the hand of this gifted poet is tribute to her finesse with the writer’s pen and love for the
languages and literatures of her heritage.
8.9
Afterword
Through years of love, life, bouts of depression, and renewed promise Dahlia
Ravikovitch continued to write poetry. Much of it is expressed as self-writing. Through
the prisms of poetry the speaker examines, from varying angles and in multiple
refractions of light, the figures of alterity – those ‘others’ who are herself. She makes full
use of the properties of poetry and the facets of verbal self-portraiture to construct and
probe the retrospect, contemporary bios and prospect of her lovelorn soul.
As has been observed about self-writing, often for individuals suffering in some way,
“Writing as a verbal […] form may offer a kind of neutral space for self-presentation and
the renegotiation of status.”35 For Dahlia Ravikovitch writing was more than an ‘offer of’;
poetry was indeed the neutral space, the only emotionally comfortable space for her
lovelorn soul to exist, whether she were its reader, its writer, or the ‘pure crystal’
medium through which it passed en route to paper.
*
*
8.10
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
For Further Study
This thesis on the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch concentrates on the elements initially
outlined. It is therefore by no means a comprehensive or exhaustive analysis of her
corpus. A future inquiry into the work of this talented poet might take the form of a
comparative study of the ‘voice of responsibility’ in her oeuvre and that in the poetry of a
contemporary female Palestinian poet regarding concepts of humanity, insiders,
outsiders and ‘othering’.
35
G. Thomas Couser Recovering Bodies: Illness, Disability and Life Writing (Madison: University of
Wisconsin Press, 1997) 182.
228
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‫‪234‬‬
‫בבליוגרפיה‪ :‬מקורות בעברית‬
‫ספרות‪ ,‬מחקרים‪ ,‬כתבי עט ועיתונאות ספרות‪ ,‬מחקרים‪ ,‬כתבי עט ועיתונאות‬
‫אבגר‪ ,‬תנחום‪.‬‬
‫דברים שיש להם שיעור – על דליה רביקוביץ‪ ,‬תהום קורא‪.‬‬
‫על המשמר‪.21.1.77 .‬‬
‫אבן גבירול‪.‬‬
‫לכבוד יקותיאל אבן חסאן‪.‬‬
‫חיים שירמן‪ ,‬עורך‪ .‬השירה העברית בספרד ובפרובאנס‪.‬‬
‫כרך א‪.195 .‬‬
‫אבן גבירול‪.‬‬
‫על מות יקותיאל‪.‬‬
‫חיים שירמן‪ ,‬עורך‪ .‬השירה העברית בספרד ובפרובאנס‪.‬‬
‫כרך א‪.202 .‬‬
‫אבן גבירול‪.‬‬
‫שירי אהבה‪.‬‬
‫חיים שירמן‪ ,‬עורך‪ .‬השירה העברית בספרד ובפרובאנס‪.‬‬
‫כרך א‪.213-216 .‬‬
‫אבן גבירול‪.‬‬
‫]שני שירים שידועים בשם‪ [:‬ההתפוח‪.‬‬
‫חיים שירמן‪ ,‬עורך‪ .‬השירה העברית בספרד ובפרובאנס‪.‬‬
‫כרך א‪.219 .‬‬
‫אבן סקבל‪ ,‬שלמה‪.‬‬
‫מחברת נאם אשר בן יהודה‪.‬‬
‫חיים שירמן‪ ,‬עורך‪ .‬השירה העברית בספרד ובפרובאנס‪.‬‬
‫אבן עזרא‪ ,‬משה‪.‬‬
‫ההתפוח‪.‬‬
‫ירושלים‪ :‬מוסד ביאליק‪ ;1954 ,‬הדפסה רביעית ‪.2006‬‬
‫כרך ב‪.556-565 .‬‬
‫חיים שירמן‪ ,‬עורך‪ .‬השירה העברית בספרד ובפרובאנס‪.‬‬
‫כרך ב‪.374 .‬‬
‫אבנרי‪ ,‬שמואל‪.‬‬
‫קורצווייל ורביקוביץ‪ :‬תהום אל תהום‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.30.9.05 .‬‬
‫אבשלום‪ ,‬תמר‪.‬‬
‫שירת דליה רביקוביץ בראי המיתוס‪.‬‬
‫אפיריון‪ .‬גליון מס' ‪ .23-22‬אביב‪-‬קיץ ‪.25-24 .1992‬‬
‫אולמרט‪ ,‬דנה‬
‫ועוזי שביט‪.‬‬
‫דליה רביקוביץ‪ :‬תרגילי שחייה‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.8.18.06 .‬‬
‫אופנהיימר‪ ,‬יוחאי‪.‬‬
‫כשירות פוליטית‪ :‬על ליריקה ופוליטיקה בשירת דליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫סימן קריאה‪ .‬גליון מס' ‪ .22‬יולי ‪.440-415 .1991‬‬
‫אלמוג‪ ,‬רות‪.‬‬
‫הפניקה על היעלמותה‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.26.8.05 .‬‬
‫אפק‪ ,‬עדנה‪.‬‬
‫הקדמה‪ .‬לקט משירי דליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫ירושלים‪ :‬ההסתדרות הציונית העולמית‪.5-7 .1981 ,‬‬
‫‪235‬‬
‫ארגוב‪ ,‬טלי‪.‬‬
‫שירתה המוקדמת של דליה רביקוביץ‪ :‬התקבלות ופואטיקה‪.‬‬
‫עבודת גמר לתואר ‪M.A.‬‬
‫ירושלים‪ :‬האוניברסיטה העברית‪.1995 ,‬‬
‫ביאליק‪ ,‬חיים נחמן‪.‬‬
‫גלוי וכסוי בלשון‪.1915 .‬‬
‫כנסת‪ :‬דברי‪-‬ספרות‪ .‬חיים נחמן ביאליק‪ ,‬עורך‪.‬‬
‫הקרן לתמיכת סופרים מיסודו של הלל זלטופולסקי‪.‬‬
‫דפוסי מוריה‪ :‬באזארנא‪.251-258 .23 .‬‬
‫ביאליק‪ ,‬חיים נחמן‪.‬‬
‫על ‘גילוי וכסוי בלשון’‪ :‬עיונים במסתו של ביאליק‪.‬‬
‫ביאליק‪ ,‬חיים נחמן‪.‬‬
‫על השחיטה‪ .‬חיים נחמן ביאליק‪ :‬מהדורה מיוחדת במלאות מאה שנה‬
‫להולדת המשורר‪.‬‬
‫עורכים‪ ,‬צבי לוז וזיוה שמיר‪.‬‬
‫רמת גן‪ :‬אוניברסיטת בר אילן‪.2001 ,‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬דביר‪ ,‬תשל''ג‪.152-153 .‬‬
‫ביאליק‪ ,‬ח‪.‬נ‪.‬‬
‫וי‪.‬ח‪ .‬רבניצקי‪.‬‬
‫בן אלעזר‪ ,‬יעקב‪.‬‬
‫בן‪-‬נפתלי מיכל‪.‬‬
‫ספר האגדה‪ :‬מבחר האגדות שבתלמוד ובמדרשים‪ .‬תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬דביר‪,‬‬
‫‪.1948‬‬
‫המחברת התשיעית‪ :‬אהבת סהר וכימה‪ .‬ב‪:‬סיפורי אהבה של יעקב בן‬
‫אלעזר )‪ .(?1170-1233‬עורך יונה דוד‪ .‬רמת‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הוצאת רמות‪,‬‬
‫אוניברסיטת תל‪-‬אביב‪.87-106 .1992-1993 ,‬‬
‫קריעה‪ :‬על יחסי אם‪-‬בת בעקבות 'הבגד' מאת דליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫רסלינג‪.65-68 :(2000) .‬‬
‫בן‪-‬נפתלי מיכל‪.‬‬
‫עורי עורי דברי שיר‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.1.8.08 :‬‬
‫בן יצחק‪ ,‬איה‪.‬‬
‫על שני שירים של דליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫מקרא ועיון‪ .‬גליון מס' ‪ .64‬כסלו תשנ''ד‪ .‬דצמבר ‪.32-28 .1993‬‬
‫בראדי חיים‬
‫וחיים שירמן‪.‬‬
‫שלמה אבן גבירול‪ :‬שירי החול‪.‬‬
‫ירושלים‪ :‬שוקן‪ ,‬תשל''ה‪.‬‬
‫ברוך‪ ,‬מירי‪.‬‬
‫עיונים בשירת דליה רביקוביץ'‪.‬‬
‫ברזל‪ ,‬הלל‪.‬‬
‫שירה ומורשה‪.‬‬
‫הירשפלד‪ ,‬אריאל‪.‬‬
‫אחרית דבר‪ :‬השירה היא ציור‪.‬‬
‫דליה רביקוביץ‪ .‬מרוב אהבה‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬ידיעות אחרונות‪ ,‬ספרי חמד והקיבוץ המאוחד‪.2005 ,‬‬
‫‪.164-165‬‬
‫הולנדר‪ ,‬אורי‪.‬‬
‫אולימפיאדה של קריאות חדשות בשירים‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.30.12.05 .‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬עקד‪.1973 ,‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬עקד‪ ,‬תשל''א‪.‬‬
‫‪236‬‬
‫הולנדר‪ ,‬אורי‪.‬‬
‫להיות אדם משתתף בעולם‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.18.8.06 .‬‬
‫הולצמן‪ ,‬אבנר‪ .‬עורך‪.‬‬
‫על השחיטה‪ .‬חיים נחמן ביאליק‪ :‬השירים‪.‬‬
‫הלוי‪ ,‬יהודה‪.‬‬
‫אל הצבי‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬דביר‪.248 .2004 ,‬‬
‫חיים שירמן‪ ,‬עורך‪ .‬השירה העברית בספרד ובפרובאנס‪.‬‬
‫כרך ב‪.440-443 .‬‬
‫הנגיד‪ ,‬שמואל‪.‬‬
‫אל הצבייה‪.‬‬
‫חיים שירמן‪ ,‬עורך‪ .‬השירה העברית בספרד ובפרובאנס‪.‬‬
‫כרך א‪.151-153 .‬‬
‫הנגיד‪ ,‬שמואל‪.‬‬
‫סמכוני באשישות מלאות פז‪.‬‬
‫דב ירדן‪ ,‬עורך‪ .‬דיואן שמואל הנגיד‪ .‬כרך ב‪ :‬בן משלי‪.‬‬
‫ירושלים‪ :‬הברו יוניון קולג'‪.188 .1983 ,‬‬
‫המאירי‪ ,‬ישראל‪.‬‬
‫שתי השתדלויות‪ :‬על שני שירי אהבה מאת נתן זך ודליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫דבר‪.27.10.72 .‬‬
‫הס‪ ,‬תמר‪.‬‬
‫פואטיקה של עץ תאנים‪ :‬פנים פמיניסטיות בשירתה המוקדמת של‬
‫דליה רביקוביץ‪ .‬כתמי אור‪ .‬עורכות‪ ,‬תמר הס וחמוטל צמיר‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.2010 ,‬‬
‫ויזלטיר‪ ,‬מאיר‪.‬‬
‫האהבה האמיתית אינה כפי שהיא נראית‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪.6.9.95 .‬‬
‫חבר ‪ ,‬חנן‬
‫ומשה רון‪ ,‬עורכים‪.‬‬
‫ואין תכלה לקרבות ולהרג‪ :‬שירה פוליטית במלחמת לבנון‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1983 ,‬‬
‫חיימוביץ‪ ,‬גילי‪.‬‬
‫דליה רביקוביץ' – ‪.1936 – 2005‬‬
‫המגאזין היהודי‪ .‬גליון מס' ‪ .125‬אוקטובר ‪.2005‬‬
‫חסין‪ ,‬ז'ולייט‪.‬‬
‫שירה ומיתוס ביצירתה של דליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫יגלין‪ ,‬עופרה‪.‬‬
‫על שלושה שירים של דליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫רחוב ‪ .1995 ,2‬עמ' ‪.71-81‬‬
‫ירדן‪ ,‬דב‪ ,‬עורך‪.‬‬
‫‪ .‬דיואן שמואל הנגיד‪ .‬כרך א‪ :‬בן תהלים; כרך ב‪ :‬בן משלי‪.‬‬
‫כהן‪ ,‬אליעז‬
‫שמע אדׁ‪-‬ני‪ .‬שמע אדׁ‪-‬ני‪ :‬משירי מאורעות תשס''א‪-‬תשס''ד‪.‬‬
‫לאור‪ ,‬יצחק‪.‬‬
‫תזכור שהבטחת לבוא אלי בחג‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.26.8.95. .‬‬
‫לאור‪ ,‬יצחק‪.‬‬
‫מה יש בדליה רביקוביץ ששובה את הלב?‬
‫מעריב‪.28.7.95 .‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬עקד‪1989 ,‬‬
‫ירושלים‪ :‬הברו יוניון קולג'‪ ,‬כרך א ‪ ;1966‬כרך ב ‪.1983‬‬
‫רעננה‪ :‬אבן חושן‪.7 .2004 ,‬‬
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‫ליפסקר‪ ,‬א‪.‬‬
‫זהב ואלכמיה במחקר דליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫מאזנים‪.32-21 .(1991) 7-8 .‬‬
‫לסלי‪ ,‬איילת‪.‬‬
‫משוררות עבריות נוגעות בארוס‪ :‬עיון בשירתן של אסתר ראב ודליה‬
‫רביקוביץ‪ .‬עבודת גמר לתואר ‪M.A.‬‬
‫רמת‪-‬גן‪ :‬אוניברסיטת בר‪-‬אילן‪ ,‬תשנ''ט‪.‬‬
‫מדיני‪ ,‬יעל‪.‬‬
‫באה ונשארה‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.18.8.2006 .‬‬
‫מזור‪ ,‬יאיר‪.‬‬
‫עשה שירה וגם פוליטיקה‪.‬‬
‫עתון ‪ .77‬גליון ‪ .83-82‬נובמבר‪-‬דצמבר ‪.36-18 .1986‬‬
‫מזור‪ ,‬יאיר‪.‬‬
‫דיוקן הכלימה כעיר מקלט‪.‬‬
‫עתון ‪ .77‬גליון ‪ .206‬ניסן תשנ''ז‪ .‬אפריל ‪.19-16 ,42 .1977‬‬
‫מיקוליצקי‪ ,‬מירב‪.‬‬
‫התשתית המקראית בשיריהם של נתן זך ודליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫עבודת גמר לתואר ‪M.A.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬אוניברסיטת תל אביב‪.2004 ,‬‬
‫מירון‪ ,‬דן‪.‬‬
‫שוכבת על המים‪ :‬על דליה רביקוביץ ושיריה החדשים‪.‬‬
‫ידיעות אחרונות‪. 26.3.93 .‬‬
‫משעול‪ ,‬אגי‪.‬‬
‫ב'צוותא‪ :‬שיר לזכר דליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.30.9.05 .‬‬
‫משעול‪ ,‬אגי‪.‬‬
‫השי"ן השורקת לאהבה‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.30.9.05 .‬‬
‫סובל‪ ,‬אילנה‪.‬‬
‫'כיוון שביקשה להימלט נתערבבה דעתה' – על הדמות הנשית ועל‬
‫כרוניקת הדיכוי ביצירה הסיפורית של דליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫עבודת גמר לתואר ‪M.A.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬אוניברסיטת תל אביב‪.2000 ,‬‬
‫עמיחי‪ ,‬יהודה‪.‬‬
‫רועה ערבי מחפש גדי בהר ציון; תיירים‪.‬‬
‫שירי ירושלים‪ :‬מהדורה דו‪-‬לשונית‪.‬‬
‫ירושלים ותל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬שוקן‪.176 ;142 .1987 ,‬‬
‫עמיחי‪ ,‬יהודה‪.‬‬
‫המקום שבו אנו צודקים‪.‬‬
‫שירי יהודה עמיחי‪.‬‬
‫ירושלים ותל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬שוקן‪ .2002 ,‬כרך ‪.258 ,1‬‬
‫עמיחי‪ ,‬יהודה‪.‬‬
‫אהבה אידיאלית;‬
‫שירי יהודה עמיחי‬
‫ירושלים ותל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬שוקן‪ .2003 ,‬כרך ‪.172 ,3‬‬
‫עשת ‪ ,‬גדעון‪.‬‬
‫ציפצוף האנקור‪.‬‬
‫ידיעות אחרונות‪.11.10.94 .‬‬
‫צלקה‪ ,‬דן‪.‬‬
‫דליה רביקוביץ‪ :‬מבחר שירים ודברים על יצירתה‪.‬‬
‫מחברות לשירה‪ .‬תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬עתיד‪.1962 ,‬‬
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‫קורצווייל‪ ,‬ברוך‪.‬‬
‫שיריה של דליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.25.12.59 .‬‬
‫‪.‬קלדרון‪ ,‬נסים‪.‬‬
‫מחאה‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.24.10.86 .‬‬
‫קלדרון‪ ,‬נסים‪.‬‬
‫הרגשה של מקום‪.‬‬
‫קסטל‪-‬בלום‪ ,‬אורלי‪.‬‬
‫יום אחד אביב ויום אחד סתיו‪.‬‬
‫מעריב‪ :‬מוסף שבת‪.18.8.2006.‬‬
‫קרפל‪ ,‬דליה‪.‬‬
‫עוד ספר‪ :‬אהבה אמיתית‪.‬‬
‫העיר‪) .‬חשון( תשמ"ז‪.28.11.86 .‬‬
‫קרפל‪ ,‬דליה‪.‬‬
‫באה והלכה‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬מוסף הארץ‪18.8.06 .‬‬
‫קשת‪ ,‬ישורון‪.‬‬
‫'הספר השלישי' של דליה רביקוביץ‪.‬‬
‫מעריב‪.25.7.69 .‬‬
‫ראובני‪ ,‬יותם‪.‬‬
‫דליה רביקוביץ‪ ,‬או הפיוס הגדול עם העולם‪.‬‬
‫מעריב‪.30.6.95 .‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1988 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ' – שירה‬
‫]‪[’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav.‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬אהבת תפוח הזהב‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬מחברות לספרות‪.1959 ,‬‬
‫]‪[Horef qashe.‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬חורף קשה‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬דביר‪1964 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬הספר השלישי‪[Ha-sefer ha-shelishi.] .‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1969 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬החליל והחץ‪[He-halil ve-ha-hetz.] .‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬לדורי‪.1970 ,‬‬
‫]‪[Kol mishbereikh ve-galeikh.‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬כל משבריך וגליך‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1972 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬תהום קורא‪[Tehom qore.] .‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1976 ,‬‬
‫]‪[’Ahava ’amitit.‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬אהבה אמיתית‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1987 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬אמא עם ילד‪[’Ima ‘im yeled.] .‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1992 ,‬‬
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‫]‪[Kol ha-shirim ‘ad ko.‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1995 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬חצי שעה לפני המומסון‪.‬‬
‫]‪[Hatzi sha‘a lifnei ha-monsoon.‬‬
‫חיתוכי עץ‪ :‬פמלה לוי‪.‬‬
‫רעננה‪ :‬אבן חושן‪.1998 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬מרוב אהבה‪[Me-rov ’ahava.] .‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬ידיעות אחרונות‪ ,‬ספרי חמד‪ ,‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1998 ,‬‬
‫]‪[Mayim Rabbim.‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬מים רבים‪.‬‬
‫דנה אולמרט ועוזי שביט‪ ,‬עורכים‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.2006 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ' – שירים‬
‫אהבת תפוח הזהב‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪ .‬תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.15-16 .1995 ,‬‬
‫איך הונג‪-‬קונג נהרסה‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.119-121 .‬‬
‫ארץ מבוא השמש‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.25-26 .‬‬
‫]אשה קטנה[ ‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.45 .‬‬
‫אתה בודאי זוכר‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.115-116 .‬‬
‫בובה ממוכנת‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.36 .‬‬
‫בשבחי השלוה‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.38 .‬‬
‫דברים שיש להם שעור‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.178 .‬‬
‫האהבה האמיתית אינה כפי שהיא נראית‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.242-243 .‬‬
‫הבגד‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.122-123 .‬‬
‫המערב הכחול‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.75-76 .‬‬
‫השתדלות נוספת‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.83-84 .‬‬
‫התרוששות‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.174 .‬‬
‫זכרון תמים‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.161 .‬‬
‫‪240‬‬
‫חיפשתי ולא מצאתי את חולצתי השחורה‪ .‬חצי שעה לפני המונסון רעננה‪ :‬אבן חושן‪.42-45 .1998 ,‬‬
‫חמדה‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.47 .‬‬
‫ירק עלים‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.301-302 .‬‬
‫כישופים‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.96 .‬‬
‫כתמי אור‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.44 .‬‬
‫מחלון וכליון‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.80 .‬‬
‫מים רבים‪ .‬מים רבים‪ .‬תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.7-8 .2006 ,‬‬
‫מיקי היקר‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.142-143 .‬‬
‫סימנים‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.274 .‬‬
‫סינדרלה במטבח‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.227-228 .‬‬
‫עגלה ערופה‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.253-254 .‬‬
‫]עומד על הכביש בלילה[‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.24 .‬‬
‫פורטרט‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.135-137 .‬‬
‫פרנסה‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.204 .‬‬
‫רחיפה בגובה נמוך‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.219-221 .‬‬
‫שאון המים‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.89 .‬‬
‫שברון לב בגן‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.91-92 .‬‬
‫שונרה‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.111 .‬‬
‫שיר חצות ‪ .1970‬כל השירים עד כה‪.170 .‬‬
‫שיר של הסברים‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.193-194 .‬‬
‫שכרה‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.51-52 .‬‬
‫‪241‬‬
‫שני איים לניו‪-‬זילנד‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.257-258 .‬‬
‫תפילת אשכבה לאחר שבע‪-‬עשרה שנה‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.77 .‬‬
‫תרי"ג מצוות ואחת‪ .‬כל השירים עד כה‪.21-22 .‬‬
‫רביקוביץ' – פרוזה‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬מוות במשפחה‪ :‬ספורים‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬עם עובד‪.1976 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬קבוצת הכדורגל של ויני מנדלה‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1997 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬באה והלכה‪ :‬סיפורים‪ .‬אורלי קסטל‪-‬בלום‪ ,‬עורכת‪.‬‬
‫מושב בן שמן‪ :‬מודן הוצאה לאורת ‪.2005‬‬
‫רביקוביץ' – ספרי ילדים‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬מכונית הפלאים‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1959 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬מספורי חבורת לב האמיץ‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1961 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬קלמן של רמי‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬ספרית פועלים‪.1961 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬מיכה ומכבי האש‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1962 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬מסיבה משפחתית‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬עם עובד‪.1968 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬עלילות דדי המופלא‪.‬‬
‫תל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬הקיבוץ המאוחד‪.1978 ,‬‬
‫רביקוביץ'‪ ,‬דליה‪ .‬אמא מבולבלת‪.‬‬
‫כתר‪ :‬ירושלים‪.1978 ,‬‬
‫רווה‪ ,‬ענבר‪.‬‬
‫מים שאין להם סוף‪.‬‬
‫מחקרי ירושלים בספרות עברית‪ .‬גליון יח‪ .‬תשס"א‪.389-379 .‬‬
‫רתוק‪ ,‬לילי‪.‬‬
‫שירת נשים ישראלית‪.‬‬
‫מעריב‪.14.10.88 .‬‬
‫‪242‬‬
‫שירמן‪ ,‬חיים‪.‬‬
‫השירה העברית בספרד ובפרובאנס‪ 4 .‬כרכים‪.‬‬
‫ירושלים‪ :‬מוסד ביאליק‪ ;1954 ,‬הדפסה רביעית ‪ 4 .2006‬כרכים‪.‬‬
‫]‪[Ha-shira ha-ivrit bi-sefarad u-ve-provence; HPSP. 4 vols.‬‬
‫שלו‪ ,‬מרדכי‪.‬‬
‫דליה רביקוביץ – משוררת מקוננת‪.‬‬
‫הארץ‪ :‬תרבות וספרות‪.2.4.69 & 13.6.69 .‬‬
‫מקורות יהודיים קלאסיים‪ ,‬קונקורדנציות ומילונים‬
‫בראשית רבה‪.‬‬
‫מדרש בראשית רבא‪ :‬עם מראה מקומות וחילופי נוסחאות ופירוש מנחת יהודה‬
‫מאת חנוך אלבק‪ .‬כתבי האקדמיה למדעי היהדות; הוצאת טהעאדאר ואלבעק‪.‬‬
‫דברים רבה‪.‬‬
‫ספר מדרש רבה‪ ,‬חלק שני‪ :‬דברים רבה‪ .‬מהדורת דוד צבי האפפמאנן ווילנה‪,‬‬
‫‪ .1909‬מהדורה חדשה‪ :‬ירושלים ותל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬א‪.‬י‪.‬ל‪ .‬בע''ם‪ ,‬תשכ''א‪.‬‬
‫]‪[Deuteronomy Rabba.‬‬
‫מדרש רבה‪.‬‬
‫מדרש רבה עם כל המפרשים‪ ,‬מהדורת וילנא ומהדורת עץ יוסף‪.‬‬
‫ירושלים‪ :‬וגשל‪ ,‬תשס''א‪ 6 .‬כרכים‬
‫]‪[Shir Ha-Shirim Rabba in Vol. 4.‬‬
‫מדרש תנאים‪.‬‬
‫מדרש תנאים על ספר דברים‪ .‬ברלין‪ :‬בית עקד ספרים‪.1908/1909 ,‬‬
‫מודפס מחדש‪:‬ירושלים ותל‪-‬אביב‪ :‬אופסט ישראל‪-‬אמריקה‪.1984 ,‬‬
‫]‪[Midrash Tanna’im.‬‬
‫הדפסה שנייה עם תיקונים מאת חנוך אלבק‪ :‬ירושלים‪ :‬דפוס חמד בע''ם‪,‬‬
‫‪ 3 .1996‬כרכים‪.‬‬
‫]‪[Albeck, Genesis Rabba.‬‬
‫מדרש תנחומא‪.‬‬
‫מדרש תנחומא‪ :‬מהדורת ורשא‪ .‬ירושלים‪ .‬תשי"ח; ד"צ ורשא תרל"ה‪.‬‬
‫]‪[Midrash Tanhuma.‬‬
‫מדרש תנחומא המפואר‪ :‬מהדורה חדשה‪ ,‬מתוקנת‪ ,‬עם פרושי עץ יוסף וענף‬
‫יוסף מנקדים‪ .‬בני ברק‪ :‬הוצאת אור החיים‪ .‬תשנ''ח‪ 2 .‬כרכים‪.‬‬
‫]‪[Midrash Tanhuma.‬‬
‫משנה‪.‬‬
‫‪See: Ḳehati, Pinḥas. 1987. The Mishnah: A New‬‬
‫‪Translation with Commentary. 21 vols.‬‬
‫סידור‪.‬‬
‫‪See: Sacks, Jonathan. 2009. Siddur Koren.‬‬
‫ספרי דברים‪.‬‬
‫ספרי על ספר דברים עם חילופי גרסאות והערות מאת א''א פינקלשטיין‪.‬‬
‫)נדפס לראשונה בברלין‪ :‬הוצאת האגודה התרבויית היהודית בגרמניה‪,‬‬
‫ת''ש לפ''ק‪ (.‬ישראל‪ :‬בית המדרש לרבנים שבאמריקה‪.2001 ,‬‬
‫]‪[Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut.‬‬
‫‪243‬‬
‫פסיקתא זוטרתא‪.‬‬
‫מדרש לקח טוב המכונה פסיקתא זוטרתא על חמישה חומשי תורה‪ .‬שלמה‬
‫בובר עורך‪ .‬לבוב‪ .(n.d.) ,‬מודפס מחדש בישראל‪ :‬מפעלי ספרים יצוא בע''ם‪.‬‬
‫]‪[Pesiqta Zutreta.‬‬
‫תלמוד בבלי‪.‬‬
‫תלמוד בבלי השלם והמפואר )על פי כתב‪-‬יד ווילנה(‪ .‬ישראל‪ :‬עוז‬
‫והדר‪ 24 .2002 ,‬כרכים‪.‬‬
‫תלמוד ירושלמי‪.‬‬
‫תלמוד ירושלמי‪ :‬דפוס וונציה‪ .‬וונציה‪ .1521 ,‬מודפס מחדש בישראל‪:‬‬
‫הוצאת מעשה רוקח‪.(n.d.) .‬‬
‫תלמוד ירושלמי עם פירוש ידיד נפש‪ .‬ישראל‪ :‬יחיאל ברלב‪ ,‬תש''ס‪.‬‬
‫‪ 15‬כרכים‪.‬‬
‫תנ''ך‪.‬‬
‫‪ -‬תורה‪.‬‬
‫תורת חיים‪ .‬ירושלים‪ :‬מוסד הרב קוק‪ 7 .‬כרכים‪.‬‬
‫‪ -‬נ''ך‪.‬‬
‫מקראות גדולות‪ :‬נביאים וכתובים‪.‬ירושלים‪ :‬הוצאת מקור הספרים‪' ,‬פאר והדר'‪,‬‬
‫תשנ"ח – תשנ''ט‪ 13 .‬כרכים‪.‬‬
‫קונקוארדנציה‬
‫לתנ''ך‪.‬‬
‫קונקורדנציה חדשה לתורה נביאים וכתובים‪ .‬אברהם אבן‪-‬שושן‪ ,‬עורך‬
‫ירושלים‪ :‬קרית ספר‪.1997 ,‬‬
‫מילון ]היסטורי[‪.‬‬
‫המלון החדש‪ :‬המהדורה המשלבת‪ .‬אברהם אבן‪-‬שושן‪ ,‬עורך‪,‬‬
‫בהשתתפות חבר אנשי‪-‬מדע‪ .‬ישראל‪ :‬המילון החדש בע''מ‪ 9 .2000 ,‬כרכים‪.‬‬
‫תוכנות אלקטרוניות של מקורות יהודיים‬
‫קלאסיים‪.‬‬
‫תקליטור פרוייקט השו"ת‪ :‬גירסה ‪ .13+‬רמת גן‪ :‬אוניברסיטת בר‪-‬אילן‪,‬‬
‫‪.1972-2005‬‬
‫תקליטור חברותא ללומד‪ .‬גרסה ‪.+2‬רמת גן‪ :‬אוניברסיטת בר‪-‬אילן‪.2001 ,‬‬
‫תרגומי המקרא‬
‫וקונקורדנציות לתרגומי המקרא‬
‫אבן‪-‬שושן‪ ,‬אברהם‪ .‬עורך‪.‬‬
‫המלון החדש‪ :‬אוצר שלם של הלשון העברית הספרותית המדעית‪,‬‬
‫המדברת‪ ,‬ניבים ואמרות עבריים וארמיים‪ ,‬מונחים בינלאומיים בתשעה‬
‫כרכים‪ .‬ישראל‪ :‬המלון החדש בע''מ‪ ,‬תש''ס‪.‬‬
‫גינזבורגר‪ ,‬משה‪.‬‬
‫תוספות וחילופין‪ :‬תרגום ירושלמי לתורה הנעתק מכתב יד שהיה טמון‬
‫חסיד‪ ,‬אהרן‬
‫ובנימין סיאני‪ .‬עורכים‪.‬‬
‫חסיד ומר‬
‫ספר כתר התורה ה"תאג" הגדול‪ 5 .‬כרכים‪ .‬ירושלים‪ :‬יוסף בכה''ר אהרן‬
‫שלמה בן בנימין סיאני‪ ,‬תש"כ‪.‬‬
‫וצפון בעיר פאריס‪ ,‬עם תוספות‪ ,‬הגהות ותקונים‪ .‬ברלין‪ :‬בית מסחר הספרים‬
‫של ס‪ .‬קאלוארי ושותפיו‪ ,‬תרנ''ה‪ .‬מודפס מחדש בירושלים‪ :‬תשכ"ט‪.‬‬
244
.‫ שמות‬,‫ בראשית‬:‫ כרך א‬.‫ מהדורה ביקורתית‬:‫התרגום השומרוני לתורה‬
.‫ עורך‬.‫ אברהם‬,‫טל‬
,‫ במדבר‬,‫ ויקרא‬:‫ כרך ב‬.‫ מהדורה ביקורתית‬:‫התרגום השומרוני לתורה‬
.‫ עורך‬.‫ אברהם‬,‫טל‬
.‫ מבוא‬:‫ כרך ג‬.‫ מהדורה ביקורתית‬:‫התרגום השומרוני לתורה‬
.‫ עורך‬.‫ אברהם‬,‫טל‬
‫ אושר לפירסום על ידי‬:‫ירושלים‬.‫תרגום הפשיטתא לספר ויקרא עם ביאור‬
.‫הוצאת סימור' תשס''ב‬
.‫ עורך‬.‫ משה‬,‫צפור‬
.‫ תרגום הפשיטתא לספר בראשית‬:‫ספרא דבריתא‬
‫ תרגום הפשיטתא לספר שמות‬:‫ספרא דמפקנא‬
.‫ עורך‬,‫ משה‬,‫צפור‬
‫ קונקורדנציה מיוסדת על התרגום שנדפס‬:‫אוצר לשון תרגום אונקלוס‬
.‫ חיים יהושע‬,‫קאסאווסקי‬
.‫ תש"ם‬,‫ספר למדעי היהדות‬-‫ בית‬,‫אביב‬-‫ אוניברסיטת תל‬:‫אביב‬-‫תל‬
.‫ תשמ"ב‬,‫ספר למדעי היהדות‬-‫ בית‬,‫אביב‬-‫ אוניברסיטת תל‬:‫אביב‬-‫ תל‬.‫דברים‬
.‫ תשמ"ג‬,‫ספר למדעי היהדות‬-‫ בית‬,‫אביב‬-‫ אוניברסיטת תל‬:‫אביב‬-‫תל‬
.‫ תשס''ב‬,‫ הוצאת סימור‬:‫ירושלים‬
.‫ כרכים‬2 .‫ שי''ז‬,‫בברלין תרגמ''א )תרמ''ד( על פי נוסחא בחומש סויוניטה‬
‫ האוניברסיטה העברית; בית המדרש לרבנים‬,‫ הוצאת מאגנס‬:‫ירושלים‬
.‫ תשמ''ו‬,‫באמריקה‬
Basser, Herbert W., ed. 1994. Pseudo-Rabad: Edited and Annotated According to
Manuscripts and Citations. Atlanta: Scholars Press.
Brown, Francis, ed. 2005. The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon: With
an Appendix Containing the Biblical Aramaic. Peabody: Hendrickson. Reprint of 1906
published by Houghton, Mifflin and Co., Boston.
Clarke, E.G., W.E. Aufrecht, J.C. Hurd, and F. Spitzer. 1984. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan
of the Pentateuch: Text and Concordance. New Jersey: Ktav Publishing House.
Jastrow, Marcus. 2005. A Dictionary of the Targumim, The Talmud Babli and
Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature. Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers.
Kaufman, Stephen A. and Michael Sokoloff, with the assistance of Edward M. Cook.
1993. A Key-Word-In-Context Concordance to Targum Neofiti: A Guide to the
Complete Palestinian Aramaic Text of the Torah. Baltimore and London: The John
Hopkins University Press.
Klein, Michael L. 1980. The Fragment Targums of the Pentateuch: According to their
Extant Sources. Volume I: Texts, Indices and Introductory Essays; Volume II:
Translation. Rome: Biblical Institute Press.
Macho, Alejandro Díez, ed. 1977-1988. Neophyti 1: Targum Palestinense MS de la
Biblioteca Vaticana. Tomos I – V: Génesis – Deuteronomio. Barcelona: Consejo
Superior de Investigaciones Cíentificas. 5 volumes. (Genesis 1988; Exodus1980;
Leviticus 1980; Numbers 1977; Deuteronomy 1980.)
245
Mandelkern, Solomon. 1955. Concordance on the Bible: New Edition. Revised,
corrected and completed by Rabbi Chaim Mordecai Brecher. New York: Shulsinger
Brothers.
Rosenthal, Franz. 1995. A Grammar of Biblical Aramaic. Sixth Revised Edition.
Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag.
Sperber, Alexander, ed. 1959. The Bible in Aramaic, Based on Old Manuscripts and
Printed Texts. Volume II: The Former Prophets According to Targum Jonathan.
Leiden: E.J. Brill.
Sperber, Alexander, ed. 1962. The Bible in Aramaic, The Bible in Aramaic, Based on
Old Manuscripts and Printed Texts. Volume III: The Latter Prophets According to
Targum Jonathan. Leiden: E.J. Brill.
Sokoloff, Michael. 1974. The Targum to Job From Qumran Cave XI. Ramat Gan: Bar
Ilan University and Jerusalem: Ahva Press.
Sokoloff, Michael. 2002. A Dictionary of Jewish Palestinian Aramaic of the Byzantine
Period. Second Edition. Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University Press and Baltimore: The
Johns Hopkins University Press. (First Edition 1990 published by Bar Ilan University
Press.)
‫‪246‬‬
‫‪Appendices‬‬
‫‪Babylonian Talmud Yevamot 121a:‬‬
‫‪Boundless Waters‬‬
‫‪Appendix A‬‬
‫גמרא‪ .‬תנו רבנן‪ :‬נפל למים‪ ,‬בין שיש להם סוף בין שאין להם סוף ‪ -‬אשתו אסורה‪ ,‬דברי רבי‬
‫מאיר; וחכמים אומרים‪ :‬מים שיש להם סוף ‪ -‬אשתו מותרת‪ ,‬ושאין להם סוף ‪ -‬אשתו‬
‫אסורה‪[…] .‬‬
‫תניא‪ ,‬אמר רבן גמליאל‪ :‬פעם אחת הייתי מהלך בספינה וראיתי ספינה אחת שנשברה‪,‬‬
‫והייתי מצטער על תלמיד חכם שבה‪ ,‬ומנו? רבי עקיבא; וכשעליתי ביבשה‪ ,‬בא וישב ודן‬
‫לפני בהלכה‪ .‬אמרתי לו‪ :‬בני‪ ,‬מי העלך? אמר לי‪ :‬דף של ספינה נזדמן לי‪ ,‬וכל גל וגל שבא‬
‫עלי נענעתי לו ראשי; מכאן אמרו חכמים‪ :‬אם יבואו רשעים על אדם‪ ,‬ינענע לו ראשו‪.‬‬
‫אמרתי באותה שעה‪ :‬כמה גדולים דברי חכמים‪ ,‬שאמרו‪ :‬מים שיש להם סוף ‪ -‬מותרת‪,‬‬
‫מים שאין להם סוף ‪ -‬אסורה‪.‬‬
‫תניא‪ ,‬אמר רבי עקיבא‪ :‬פעם אחת הייתי מהלך בספינה וראיתי ספינה אחת שמטרפת‬
‫בים‪ ,‬והייתי מצטער על תלמיד חכם שבה‪ ,‬ומנו? רבי מאיר; כשעליתי למדינת קפוטקיא‪,‬‬
‫בא וישב ודן לפני בהלכה‪ .‬אמרתי לו‪ :‬בני‪ ,‬מי העלך? אמר לי‪ :‬גל טרדני לחברו וחברו‬
‫לחברו‪ ,‬עד שהקיאני ליבשה‪ .‬אמרתי באותה שעה‪ :‬כמה גדולים דברי חכמים‪ ,‬שאמרו‪:‬‬
‫מים שיש להם סוף ‪ -‬אשתו מותרת‪ ,‬מים שאין להם סוף ‪ -‬אשתו אסורה‪.‬‬
‫‪1‬‬
‫‪Gemara: Our rabbis taught [as follows regarding a situation in which] a man fell into‬‬
‫‪a body of water. Whether or not the body of water is boundless, it is prohibited for‬‬
‫‪his wife to marry, in the opinion of Rabbi Meir. And the Sages said: If it is a visibly‬‬
‫‪delineated body of water – the woman may marry; if it is a body of boundless‬‬
‫‪waters – the woman is prohibited from marrying.‬‬
‫‪[Baraita:] It was taught that Rabban Gamliel said: Once I was travelling along on a‬‬
‫‪boat, and saw another boat which was wrecked, and I felt sorry for the sage who‬‬
‫‪was in it, and who was he? Rabbi Akiva. And when I got to dry land, he came and‬‬
‫‪bYevamot 121a.‬‬
‫‪1‬‬
247
sat and deliberated before me over matters of law. I said to him: My son, who
rescued you? He said to me: a plank from a boat happened to come along and to
each and to every wave that came along, I bobbed my head. As a result of this
instance, the Sages said: In the event that evil people approach a person, he should
bob his head before them. At that point I said: How great are the Sages who said: If
it is a visibly delineated body of water – the woman may marry; if it is a body of
boundless waters – the woman is prohibited from marrying.
[Baraita:] It was taught that Rabbi Akiva said: Once I was travelling along on a boat,
and saw another boat which being wrecked in the sea, and I felt sorry for the sage
who was in it, and who was he? Rabbi Meir. And when I got to the land of
Qapotqiya, he came and sat and deliberated before me over matters of law. I said
to him: My son, who rescued you? He said to me: one wave conveyed me to
another and another and another, until I was expelled onto dry land. At that point I
said: How great are the Sages who said: If it is a visibly delineated body of water –
the woman may marry; if it is a body of boundless waters – the woman is prohibited
from marrying.
248
Appendix B
Overview of a Semantic Range Study of tamim
[‫ ] ָתּ ִמים‬in Masoretic Text With Reference to its
Counterpart shelim [‫ ] ְשׁ ִלים‬and Parallels in
Palestinian Aramaic Targumic Texts
CONTEXT OF
‫ ָתּ ִמים‬and ITS
NUANCE
HEBREW
PARALLELS IN
MASORETIC
TEXT
time frames –
‫ָתּ ִמים‬
SAMPLE
REFERENCES
FOR ‫ ָתּ ִמים‬and
HEBREW
PARALLELS IN
MASORETIC
TEXT
PARALLEL
REFERENCES IN
ARAMAIC
TARGUMIC
TEXTS:
ARAMAIC
PARALLELS
SUCH AS ‫ְשׁ ִלים‬
a) Joshua 10:13
a) T- Nakh; TJ-
payment –
1. entire, full
‫שלם‬/‫ שלים‬only in
this second aspect
b) Leviticus 23:15 Nevi’im: ‫שלים‬
Leviticus 25:30
Numbers 32:13
a) Genesis 23:9
b) TO, SJ, SA,, N, Y,
Syr: forms of ‫שלם‬
3. TO, SJ, SA. N, Y,
Syr: forms of ‫שלם‬
249
a) TO, SJ, SA. N, Y
‫צורות של שלם‬
Syr: ‫דלא מום‬
a) Leviticus 4:28
b) TO, SJ, SA. N, Y:
b) Leviticus 22:21 ‫צורות של שלם‬
2. unblemished
Sacrifice – ‫ָתּ ִמים‬
c) Numbers 19:2
c) TO, SJ, SA. N, Y:
d) Ezekiel 15:5
forms of ‫שלם‬. TO, SJ,
e) Ezekiel 43:22
SA. N, show the term
alongside
‫מומא‬/‫דלית בה מום‬
d) and e) T- Nakh; TJNevi’im - ‫שלים‬
3. intact
physical,
material,
intellectual and
emotional well
being – Hebrew
‫ָשׁ ֵלם‬
a) Genesis 33:18
a) TO, SJ, SA. N, Y,
Syr: forms of ‫שלם‬
250
a) TO, FragT-MsP,
FragT-MsVNL, TYerushalmi and Y:
forms of ‫שלם‬
4. perfect
God; God’s
expectations of
certain
individuals; and
human
descriptions of
certain
individuals –
, -‫ ְתּ ִמים‬,‫תּ ִמים‬
ָ
‫ ַת ָמּ ִתי‬,‫ימה‬
ָ ‫ְתּ ִמ‬
a) Deuteronomy
b) T-Nakh: ‫שלמתא‬
32:4
c) T-Jb:
b) Psalms 19:8
‫מנדעא‬
c) Job 37:16
‫דשלים‬
d) Genesis 17:1
d) ) TO, SJ, SA. N, Y:
forms of ‫שלם‬. Syr:
e) Song of Songs
‫דלא מום‬
6:9
e) T-Nakh (an
indirectly parallel
aggadic text; terms do
not match up on a one
to one basis; the text
includes ‫)שלים‬
5. principled, acting
with integrity
1. acting with
sincerity,
without wile
or guile
2. acting
blamelessly,
in
innocence,
in good faith
deed, thought
and speech:
alignment of
hand, heart and
voice in human
conduct,
including worship
of God – ‫ָתּ ִמים‬
human intention
that motivates
speech and deed
– ‫ָתּ ִמים‬
human intention
that motivates
speech and deed
– ‫ָתּ ִמים‬
a) T-Nakh:
a) Proverbs
‫בתמימותא‬
28:18
b) T-Nakh and TJ-
b) Joshua 24:14
Nevi’im: ‫בשלמותא‬
c) Psalms 84:12
c) T-Nakh:
d) Judges 9: 16,
‫בשלימותא‬
19
d) T-Nakh and TJNevi’im: forms of ‫שלם‬
251
a) T-Nakh and TJ-
a) I Kings 8:61
6. spiritually at one
with God
spiritual
reverence for
God – ‫ָשׁ ֵלם‬
b) I Kings 15:3
c) II Chronicles
19:9
Nevi’im: ‫שלים‬
b) T-Nakh and TJNevi’im: ‫שלים‬
c) T-Nakh: ‫שלים‬
a) TO, SA, Y and Syr:
forms of ‫ ;]קל[ חד‬SJ:
‫ ;אחד‬N: forms of ‫חד‬
7. unanimous,
unanimously
responses: in
word and deed –
‫ אחד‬and ‫יחדו‬
a) Exodus 24:3
b) Exodus 19:8
plus ‫לבא שלמא‬
b) TO, FragT-MsP,
FragT-MsVNL, FragTMsJTS, T-Yerushalmi,
SJ, SA,, N, Y, Syr:
forms of
‫]עמא כ[חדא‬
a) TO, SJ, SA,, N, Y
a) Genesis 34:21
and Syr: forms of ‫שלם‬
of purpose, in league
initiatives,
collaborative
plans –
b) I Chronicles
b) T-Nakh:
with
Forms of ‫שׁ ֵלם‬
ָ and
12:39
‫ שלים‬plus the
8. sharing singularity
‫ְבּ ֵל ָבב ָשׁ ֵלם‬
[‫]בלב‬
expression ‫לבא חד‬
252
construction – MT
is in Biblical Aramaic
and shows ‫ ְשׁ ִלם‬in
Ezra
a) Ezra 5:16
a) N.B. The Masoretic
text is in Biblical
Aramaic: ‫ְשׁ ִלם‬
duration/term [of
9. wholly completed,
fully concluded
pregnancy; of
b) TO, SA , N, Y, Syr:
grieving] MT shows
parallels from the
Hebrew roots ‫מלא‬
and ‫ תמם‬in
Genesis and
forms of ‫שלם‬
b) Genesis 25:24
c) Deuteronomy
c) TO, SJ, N, Y and
Syr: forms of ‫שלם‬
34:8
Deuteronomy,
respectively
a) TO, SJ, N, Y: forms
of ‫ ;שלם‬SA: ‫ ;תם‬Syr:
a) Genesis 47:15
‫גמר‬
MT employs forms of
re: money
b) TO, FragT-MsVNL,
the root ‫ תמם‬,‫תם‬
b) Genesis 21:15
N and Y: forms of
inter alia.
re: water. MY
employs: ‫ויכלו‬
‫ ;שלם‬SJ: form of ‫;סכם‬
Commodities –
10. wholly depleted,
entirely finished
Syr: form of ‫גמר‬
‫‪253‬‬
‫‪Full Hebrew Poems by Dahlia Ravikovitch‬‬
‫‪Corresponding to Excerpts Quoted in Hebrew:‬‬
‫‪alphabetically by title or by first line of‬‬
‫‪untitled works‬‬
‫דליה רביקוביץ'‬
‫אהבת תפוח הזהב‬
‫ָהב‬
‫פּוּח ז ָ‬
‫ַתּ ַ‬
‫אוֹכ ֵלהוּ‪,‬‬
‫אָהב ֶאת ְ‬
‫ַ‬
‫טֹבוּ ַמ ְראָיו‬
‫ְל ַמ ֲא ָכ ֵלהוּ‪,‬‬
‫ָשׂם ֶאל ִלבּוֹ‬
‫רוֹאהוּ‪.‬‬
‫ִכּי הוּא ָה ֵ‬
‫ֶא ְתרוֹג בּוֹ יִ ְר ַהב‪:‬‬
‫ָח ַכ ְמ ִתּי ִמ ֶמּנּוּ‪,‬‬
‫ילן ִה ְת ַע ַצּב‪:‬‬
‫ִא ָ‬
‫ָימֹת וְ ֵאינֶנּוּ‪.‬‬
‫ֶח ַשׁב‪,‬‬
‫ַפּ ַחז נ ְ‬
‫יבנּוּ?‬
‫ִמי יְ ִש ֶ‬
‫ֶא ְתרוֹג בּוֹ ִס ְר ֵהב‪:‬‬
‫ִהבּוֹנָה ַה ֶפּ ִתי!‬
‫ילן ִה ְת ַק ֵצּף‪:‬‬
‫ִא ָ‬
‫ָח ְטא ִהיא‪,‬‬
‫ָס ָרה ִהיא ו ֵ‬
‫יטב‬
‫ֲחזֹר ָבּך ֵה ֵ‬
‫ֵאתי‪.‬‬
‫ִכּי ֶכ ֶסל ָשׂנ ִ‬
‫ָהב‬
‫פּוּח ז ָ‬
‫ַתּ ַ‬
‫אוֹכ ֵלהוּ‪,‬‬
‫אָהב ֶאת ְ‬
‫ַ‬
‫אָהב ֶאת ַמ ֵכּהוּ‬
‫ַ‬
‫ְבּ ָכל ֲא ָב ָריו‪.‬‬
‫ָהב‬
‫פּוּח ז ָ‬
‫ַתּ ַ‬
‫אוֹכ ֵלהוּ‪,‬‬
‫אָהב ֶאת ְ‬
‫ַ‬
‫ָה ַל ְך ֶאל ַמ ֵכּהוּ‬
‫ָבּרוֹת ְל ִשׁנָּיו‬
‫פּוּח ָז ָהב‬
‫ַתּ ַ‬
‫אוֹכ ֵלהוּ‪,‬‬
‫נִ ְב ַלע ְבּ ְ‬
‫עוֹרהוּ‪,‬‬
‫ָבּא ְבּ ֵ‬
‫אַף ִבּ ְב ָשׂ ָריו‪.‬‬
‫‪Appendix C‬‬
‫‪254‬‬
‫איך הונג‪-‬קונג נהרסה‬
‫ֲאנִ י ְבּהוֹנְ ג‪-‬קוֹנְ ג‪.‬‬
‫שׁוֹר ֶצת נְ ָח ִשׁים‪.‬‬
‫ָהר ֶ‬
‫יֵשׁ ָשׁם ְלשׁוֹן נ ָ‬
‫כּוּשׁים‪.‬‬
‫יֵשׁ יְ וָנִ ים‪ִ ,‬סינִ ים וְ ִ‬
‫יהם‬
‫ֲרים ֶאת ִפּ ֶ‬
‫ָסי ַהנְּ יָר פּוֹע ִ‬
‫ַעל יַד ַפּנּ ֵ‬
‫ָבל‪.‬‬
‫ַתּנִּ ינִ ים ֶשׁל ַק ְרנ ָ‬
‫טּוֹר ִפים פֹּה?‬
‫אָמר ְל ָך ֶשׁ ְ‬
‫ִמי ַ‬
‫ָהר‪.‬‬
‫ָרדוּ ֶאל ַהנּ ָ‬
‫ָשׁים י ְ‬
‫ֲהמוֹן ֲאנ ִ‬
‫יך‪,‬‬
‫ָמ ָ‬
‫ית ִמיּ ֶ‬
‫ֶמ ִשׁי ָכּזֶה לֹא ָר ִא ָ‬
‫יוֹתר ִמ ִפּ ְר ֵחי ַה ָפּ ָרג‪.‬‬
‫אָדֹם ֵ‬
‫ְבּהוֹנְ ג‪-‬קוֹנְ ג‬
‫זוֹר ַחת ַבּ ִמּ ְז ָרח‬
‫ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ ַ‬
‫יחנִ י‬
‫וְ ֶאת ַה ְפּ ָר ִחים ַמ ְשׁ ִקים ְבּנוֹזֵל ֵר ָ‬
‫יחם‪.‬‬
‫ִבּ ְכ ֵדי ְל ַה ְכ ִפּיל ֶאת ֵר ָ‬
‫רוּח‬
‫ָפים ָבּ ַ‬
‫ָסי ַהנְּ יָר נִ גּ ִ‬
‫ֲא ָבל ָבּ ֶע ֶרב ַפּנּ ֵ‬
‫שׁוֹא ִלים‪:‬‬
‫ישׁהוּ נִ ְר ָצח ֲ‬
‫וְ ִאם ִמ ֶ‬
‫כּוּשׁי?‬
‫זֶה ָהיָה ִסינִ י אוֹ ִ‬
‫סּוּרים?‬
‫ַה ִאם ֵמת ְבּיִ ִ‬
‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ַמ ִטּ ִ‬
‫וְ ַ‬
‫ָהר‬
‫ילים ֶאת גּוּפוֹ ֶאל ַהנּ ָ‬
‫אוֹכ ִלים‪.‬‬
‫וְ ָכל ַה ְשּׁ ָר ִצים ְ‬
‫ְאנִ י ְבּהוֹנְ ג‪-‬קוֹנְ ג‪,‬‬
‫וּב ֶע ֶרב ָח ַשׁ ְך ָהאוֹר ְבּ ֵבית ַה ָקּ ֶפה‪.‬‬
‫ָ‬
‫ָסי נְ יָר נִ ְק ְרעוּ‪.‬‬
‫וּבחוּץ ֲהמוֹן ַפּנּ ֵ‬
‫ַ‬
‫רוֹת ַחת‪,‬‬
‫פּוֹצ ֶצת וְ ַ‬
‫אָרץ ָהיְ ָתה ִמ ְת ֶ‬
‫וְ ָה ֶ‬
‫רוֹת ַחת‪,‬‬
‫ִמ ְת ֶ‬
‫פּוֹצ ֶצת וְ ַ‬
‫ָד ְע ִתּי‪,‬‬
‫וְ ַרק ֲאנִ י י ַ‬
‫ֲרב ֵאין ְכּלוּם‬
‫ֶשׁ ַבּ ַמּע ָ‬
‫וּב ִמּ ְז ָרח ֵאין ְכּלוּם‪.‬‬
‫ַ‬
‫וְ ַה ְדּ ָרקוֹן ִמנְּ יָר ִפּ ֵהק‬
‫פּוֹצ ָצה‪.‬‬
‫אָרץ ִה ְת ְ‬
‫ֲא ָבל ָה ֶ‬
‫ֲהמוֹן אוֹיְ ִבים יָבוֹאוּ ֵהנָּה‪,‬‬
‫יהם‪.‬‬
‫ימ ֶ‬
‫ֶשׁלֹּא ָראוּ ֶמ ִשׁי ִמ ֵ‬
‫‪255‬‬
‫יהן‬
‫אוֹר ֵח ֶ‬
‫ַרק ַהזּוֹנוֹת ַה ְקּ ַטנּוֹת עוֹד ְמ ַק ְבּלוֹת ֶאת ְ‬
‫ְבּ ִב ְג ֵדי ֶמ ִשׁי ֻמ ְכ ָתּ ִמים‪,‬‬
‫ָסים‪.‬‬
‫ְבּ ֻקבּוֹת ְק ַטנּוֹת ְמ ֵלאוֹת ַפּנּ ִ‬
‫ַפּחוֹת ַבּבּ ֶֹקר‬
‫ֲא ָחדוֹת ֵמ ֶהן ִמ ְתי ְ‬
‫ַעל ְבּ ָשׂ ָרן ַה ַמּ ְר ִקיב‪.‬‬
‫שׁוֹאלוֹת‪:‬‬
‫וְ ִאם נ ֱ‬
‫ישׁהוּ ֵהן ֲ‬
‫ֶה ַרג ִמ ֶ‬
‫כּוּשׁי?‬
‫הוֹ‪-‬הוֹ ִסינִ י אוֹ ִ‬
‫סּוּרים‪.‬‬
‫ַה ִמּ ְס ֵכּן‪ַ ,‬ה ְלוַאי ֶשׁלֹּא ֵמת ְבּיִ ִ‬
‫אוֹר ִחים‬
‫יעים ִראשׁוֹנֵי ָה ְ‬
‫דּוּמים ַמ ִגּ ִ‬
‫וּכ ָבר ִבּ ְשׁ ַעת ִדּ ְמ ִ‬
‫ְ‬
‫ְכּמוֹ קוֹץ ַבּ ָבּ ָשׂר ַה ַחי‪.‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י ְבּהוֹנְ ג‪-‬קוֹנְ ג‬
‫אוֹקיָנוֹס‪,‬‬
‫וְ הוֹנְ ג‪-‬קוֹנְ ג ַעל ָה ְ‬
‫עוֹלם‪.‬‬
‫ְתּלוּיָה ְכּ ַפנָּס ִצ ְבעוֹנִ י ַעל וָו ִבּ ְק ֵצה ָה ָ‬
‫אוּלי ַה ְדּ ָרקוֹן‬
‫ַ‬
‫ַע ְט ֶפנָּה ְבּ ֶמ ִשׁי אָדֹם‬
‫יַ‬
‫וְ יִ ְשׁ ְמ ֶטנָּה‬
‫כּוֹכ ִבים‪.‬‬
‫ֶאל ְתּהוֹם ַה ָ‬
‫תוֹך ַה ֶמּ ִשׁי‬
‫ַפּ ְחנָה ְבּ ְ‬
‫וְ ַרק ַהזּוֹנוֹת ַה ְקּ ַטנּוֹת ִתּ ְתי ַ‬
‫ֲדיִ ן‬
‫ֶשׁ ַה ְגּ ָב ִרים ע ַ‬
‫ֲדיִ ן‬
‫עַ‬
‫אוֹתן ְבּ ִב ְטנָן‪.‬‬
‫צוֹב ִטים ָ‬
‫ְ‬
‫ֲאנִ י לֹא ְבּהוֹנְ ג‪-‬קוֹנְ ג‬
‫עוֹלם‪.‬‬
‫וְ הוֹנְ ג‪-‬קוֹנְ ג לֹא ָבּ ָ‬
‫ְבּ ָמקוֹם ֶשׁ ָהיְ ָתה הוֹנְ ג‪-‬קוֹנְ ג‬
‫ֶשׁנוֹ ֶכּ ֶתם ֶא ָחד ָורֹד‪,‬‬
‫יְ‬
‫ֶח ְציוֹ ַבּ ָשּׁ ַמיִ ם וְ ֶח ְציוֹ ַבּיָּם‪.‬‬
‫ארץ מבוא השמש‬
‫ֻהגַּד ִלי ִכּי יֵשׁ ֶדּ ֶר ְך ֶאל ֶא ֶרץ ְמבוֹא ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ‬
‫וְ ֶאל נָכוֹן לֹא ֻהגַּד ִלי‬
‫אוּכל ָלבוֹא‪.‬‬
‫ִאם ָשׁ ָמּה ַ‬
‫יתי ָשׁ ָמּה ָל ֶל ֶכת‬
‫לֹא נִ ְמ ָצא ִלי ָח ֵבר ַל ֶדּ ֶר ְך‪ ,‬אָז ָפּנִ ִ‬
‫ֶאל ֶא ֶרץ ְמבוֹא ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ‪,‬‬
‫ָהב ִר ְכבּוֹ‪.‬‬
‫ָעשׂוּ לוֹ ז ָ‬
‫וְ עוֹד ֻהגַּד ִלי‪ִ :‬מ ֶקּ ֶדם‪ְ ,‬בּ ֶא ֶרץ ְמבוֹא ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ‬
‫ָהיוּ ַמ ְל ֵכי ֶא ֶרץ‬
‫ֲא ֶשׁר ֵאין שֹׁוֶה ִבּ ְגאוֹנָם‪.‬‬
‫אַגּ ַ‬
‫ָוא ַֹמר ְבּ ִל ִבּי‪ִ :‬אם ִ‬
‫יע ֶאל ֶא ֶרץ ְמבוֹא ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ‬
‫ֻתּן ִלי ִכּ ֵסּא ֶמ ֶל ְך‬
‫יַ‬
‫ָמן‪.‬‬
‫אַרגּ ָ‬
‫וְ גַם ַשׂ ְל ַמת ְ‬
‫‪256‬‬
‫יתי‬
‫אָכן ִמ ִלּ ִבּי ָבּ ִד ִ‬
‫וְ ֶאל נָכוֹן לֹא ֻהגַּד ִלי‪ֵ ,‬‬
‫ִכּי ְבּ ֶא ֶרץ ְמבוֹא ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ‬
‫עוֹלם‪.‬‬
‫יִ ְהיֶה ִלי ָשׁלוֹם ַעד ָ‬
‫]אשה קטנה[‬
‫ִא ָשׁה ְק ַטנָּה ָע ְשׂ ָתה ָלהּ ְל ֶע ֶרשׂ‬
‫אָרץ‬
‫ֶאת ַכּדוּר ָה ֶ‬
‫ַה ַכּדּוּר ַהגָדוֹל‪.‬‬
‫אָרץ‬
‫ֶע ַלם ִמ ַכּדּוּר ָה ֶ‬
‫וְ לֹא נ ְ‬
‫ִכּי ִא ָשׁה ְק ַטנָּה‬
‫ָחה ַעל גָּבּוֹ‪.‬‬
‫נָ‬
‫יקהּ‬
‫ֲשׂ ִבים ֶאל ֵח ָ‬
‫וְ הוּא ִצ ִמּח ע ָ‬
‫גּוּפהּ‬
‫וְ ָכ ַר ְך ֶאת ָ‬
‫עוֹלים‪.‬‬
‫ַבּ ִגּ ְב ִ‬
‫אוֹתהּ ְכּ ֵשׂאתוֹ‬
‫ָשׂא ָ‬
‫וְ הוּא נ ָ‬
‫וּב ָקעוֹת‬
‫ָה ִרים ְ‬
‫ַמּים‪.‬‬
‫ֲא ָרצוֹת וְ י ִ‬
‫וְ זוֹ ָה ִא ָשּׁה ָהיְ ָתה ְמ ַל ֶח ֶשׁת‪:‬‬
‫אָרץ‪ֶ -‬ע ֶרשׂ ֶשׁ ִלּי‪,‬‬
‫ַכּדּוּר ָה ֶ‬
‫אָרץ‪ְ -‬פּ ָל ִגים וּנְ ָח ִלים‬
‫ַכּדּוּר ָה ֶ‬
‫ֲשׁים וְ אַף גַּם ֲאנִ י;‬
‫ַמּים גּוֹע ִ‬
‫וְ י ִ‬
‫ִהנֵּה ֲאנִ י ָשׁ ָטה ְכּ ַבת ַס ָפּנִ ים‬
‫ירה‪,‬‬
‫אָרץ ָהיָה ִלי ִס ָ‬
‫וְ ַכדּוּר ָה ֶ‬
‫בוֹרים‬
‫כּוֹכ ִבים ִכּנְ ִחיל ְדּ ִ‬
‫נְ ִחיל ָ‬
‫אָרץ‪.‬‬
‫הוֹמים ָס ִביב ְל ַכדּוּר ָה ֶ‬
‫ִ‬
‫אָרץ ָדּ ֵבק ֶאל ִבּ ְטנִ י‬
‫ַכּדּוּר ָה ֶ‬
‫אָרץ‪,‬‬
‫ָדי ְ‬
‫יַ‬
‫צוֹמחוֹת ִכּ ְפ ָר ִחים ִמן ָה ֶ‬
‫וְ ַעל ְפּנֵי ַה ַכּדּוּר ֶה ָעצוּם ַהזֶּה‬
‫ָבּאָה ֶח ְדוָה ְבּ ָכל ֲא ָב ָרי‪.‬‬
‫ִא ָשׁה ְק ַטנָּה ָע ְשׂ ָתה ָלהּ ְל ֶע ֶרשׂ‬
‫אָרץ‬
‫ֶאת ַכּדּוּר ָה ֶ‬
‫ַה ַכּדּוּר ַהגָּדוֹל‬
‫וְ לֹא נ ְ‬
‫אָרץ‬
‫ֶע ַלם ִמ ַכּדּוּר ָה ֶ‬
‫ִכּי ִא ָשׁה ְק ַטנָּה‬
‫ָחה ַעל גַּבּוֹ‪.‬‬
‫נָ‬
‫‪257‬‬
‫אתה בודאי זוכר‬
‫הוֹל ִכים‬
‫ֻלּם ְ‬
‫אַח ֵרי ֶשׁכּ ָ‬
‫ֲ‬
‫ירים‪,‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת ְל ַבד ִעם ַה ִשּׁ ִ‬
‫ירים ֶשׁ ִלּי‬
‫ֶח ְל ָקם ִשׁ ִ‬
‫וְ ֶח ְל ָקם ֶשׁל ֲא ֵח ִרים‪.‬‬
‫יוֹתר‪.‬‬
‫אוֹה ֶבת ֵ‬
‫ירים ֶשׁ ָכּ ְתבוּ ֲא ֵח ִרים ֲאנִ י ֶ‬
‫ִשׁ ִ‬
‫ֲאנִ י נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת ְבּ ֶשׁ ֶקט‬
‫וּמ ֲחנַק ַהגָּרוֹן ִמ ְשׁ ַתּ ְח ֵרר‪.‬‬
‫ַ‬
‫ֲאנִ י נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת‪.‬‬
‫ֵלכוּ‪.‬‬
‫ֻלּם י ְ‬
‫רוֹצה ֶשׁכּ ָ‬
‫ִל ְפ ָע ִמים ֲאנִ י ָ‬
‫ָעים‪.‬‬
‫אוּלי ָדּ ָבר נ ִ‬
‫ירים זֶה ַ‬
‫ִל ְכתֹּב ִשׁ ִ‬
‫ַבּ ִהים‪.‬‬
‫יוֹשׁב ַבּ ֶח ֶדר וְ ָכל ַה ִקּירוֹת ִמ ְתגּ ְ‬
‫אַתּה ֵ‬
‫ָ‬
‫יוֹתר‪.‬‬
‫ַה ְצּ ָב ִעים ַנע ִ‬
‫ֲשׂים ַע ִזּים ֵ‬
‫הוֹפ ֶכת ְלע ֶֹמק ְבּ ֵאר‪.‬‬
‫ִמ ְט ַפּ ַחת ְכּ ֻח ָלּה ֶ‬
‫ֵלכוּ‪.‬‬
‫ֻלּם י ְ‬
‫רוֹצה ֶשׁכּ ָ‬
‫אַתּה ֶ‬
‫ָ‬
‫יוֹד ַע ָמה ִא ְתּ ָך‪.‬‬
‫אָתּה לֹא ֵ‬
‫ָ‬
‫יוֹתר‪.‬‬
‫אוּלי ַתּ ְחשֹׁב ַעל ְשׁנֵי ְד ָב ִרים אוֹ ֵ‬
‫ַ‬
‫ָבישׁ ָטהוֹר‪.‬‬
‫ַ‬
‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ַהכֹּל ַי ֲעבֹר וְ ִת ְהיֶה ג ִ‬
‫אַה ָבה‪.‬‬
‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ֲ‬
‫ַ‬
‫אָהב ָכּל ָכּ ְך ֶאת ַע ְצמוֹ‪.‬‬
‫ַר ִקיס ַ‬
‫נְ‬
‫ַחל‪.‬‬
‫אָהב גַּם ֶאת ַהנּ ַ‬
‫ִט ֵפּשׁ ִמי ֶשׁלֹּא ֵמ ִבין ֶשׁהוּא ַ‬
‫יוֹשׁב ְל ַב ְדּ ָך‪.‬‬
‫אַתּה ֵ‬
‫ָ‬
‫ִל ְבּ ָך ַמ ְכ ִאיב ְל ָך ֲא ָבל הוּא לֹא יִ ָשּׁ ֵבר‪.‬‬
‫ְלאַט ְלאַט נִ ְמ ָחקוֹת ַה ְדּ ֻמיּוֹת ַה ֵדּהוֹת‪,‬‬
‫ָמים‪.‬‬
‫אַחר ָכּ ְך נִ ְמ ָחקיִ ם ַה ְפּג ִ‬
‫ַ‬
‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ָבּאָה ֶשׁ ֶמשׁ ַבּ ֲחצוֹת ַה ַלּיְ ָלה‬
‫ַ‬
‫זוֹכר‪.‬‬
‫אַתּה ֵ‬
‫גַּם ֶאת ַה ְפּ ָר ִחים ַה ֵכּ ִהים ָ‬
‫אַחר‪.‬‬
‫ישׁהוּ ֵ‬
‫רוֹצה ִל ְהיוֹת ֵמת אוֹ ַחי אוֹ ִמ ֶ‬
‫ית ֶ‬
‫ָהיִ ָ‬
‫אוֹהב‪.‬‬
‫אַתּה ֵ‬
‫אַחת ֶשׁ ָ‬
‫אוּלי יֵשׁ ֶא ֶרץ ַ‬
‫ַ‬
‫אַחת‪.‬‬
‫אוּלי יֵשׁ ִמ ָלּה ַ‬
‫ַ‬
‫זוֹכר‪.‬‬
‫ַדּאי ֵ‬
‫אַתּה ְבּו ַ‬
‫ָ‬
‫יח ַל ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ ִל ְשׁק ַֹע ִכּ ְרצוֹנָהּ‪.‬‬
‫ִט ֵפּשׁ ִמי ֶשׁ ַמּנִּ ַ‬
‫ֲר ָבה ֶאל ָה ִאיִּ ים‪.‬‬
‫ימה ִלנְ דֹּד ַמע ָ‬
‫ִהיא ָת ִמיד ַמ ְק ִדּ ָ‬
‫וּל ָבנָה‪ַ ,‬קיִ ץ ָוח ֶֹרף‪.‬‬
‫יך יָבוֹאוּ ַח ָמּה ְ‬
‫ֵא ֶל ָ‬
‫סוֹפיִּ ים‪.‬‬
‫אוֹצרוֹת ֵאין‪ִ -‬‬
‫ָ‬
‫בובה ממוכנת‬
‫ֻבּה ְמ ֻמ ֶכּנֶת‬
‫יתי בּ ָ‬
‫ַבּ ַלּיְ ָלה ַהזֶּה ָהיִ ִ‬
‫ֲב ִרים‪,‬‬
‫ֹאלה‪ְ ,‬ל ָכל ָהע ָ‬
‫וּשׂמ ָ‬
‫ָמינָה ְ‬
‫יתי י ִ‬
‫וּפנִ ִ‬
‫ָ‬
‫אַר ָצה וְ נִ ְשׁ ַבּ ְר ִתּי ִל ְשׁ ָב ִרים‬
‫אַפּיִ ם ְ‬
‫ָפ ְל ִתּי ַ‬
‫וְ נ ַ‬
‫וְ נִ סּוּ ְלאַחוֹת ֶאת ְשׁ ָב ַרי ְבּיָד ְמ ֻא ֶמּנֶת‪.‬‬
‫‪258‬‬
‫ֻבּה ְמ ֻת ֶקּנֶת‬
‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ַשׁ ְב ִתּי ִל ְהיוֹת בּ ָ‬
‫וְ ַ‬
‫וְ ָכל ִמנְ ָה ִגי ָהיָה ָשׁקוּל וְ ַציְּ ָתנִ י‪,‬‬
‫ֻבּה ִמסּוּג ֵשׁנִ י‬
‫יתי בּ ָ‬
‫אוּלם אָז ְכּ ָבר ָהיִ ִ‬
‫ָ‬
‫נוֹק ֶנת‪.‬‬
‫בוּלה ֶשׁ ִהיא עוֹד ֲאחוּזָה ִבּ ְק ֶ‬
‫מוֹרה ֲח ָ‬
‫ְכּמוֹ ְז ָ‬
‫וְ ַ‬
‫ֶשׁף ַה ְמּחוֹלוֹת‬
‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ָה ַל ְכ ִתּי ִל ְרקֹד ְבּנ ֶ‬
‫וּכ ָל ִבים‬
‫תוּלים ְ‬
‫אוֹתי ְבּ ֶח ְב ַרת ֲח ִ‬
‫אַך ִהנִּ יחוּ ִ‬
‫ְ‬
‫צוּבים‪.‬‬
‫וּק ִ‬
‫דוּדים ְ‬
‫וְ ִאלּוּ ָכל ְצ ָע ַדי ָהיוּ ְמ ִ‬
‫ָהב וְ ָהיוּ ִלי ֵעינַיִ ם ְכּ ֻחלּוֹת‬
‫וְ ָהיָה ִלי ֵשׂ ָער ֶשׁל ז ָ‬
‫וְ ָהיְ ָתה ִלי ִשׂ ְמ ָלה ִמ ֶצּ ַבע ְפּ ָר ִחים ֶשׁ ַבּגָּן‬
‫ֻב ְדּ ָבן‪.‬‬
‫כּוֹבע ֶשׁל ַקשׁ ִעם ִקשּׁוּט דּ ְ‬
‫וְ ָהיָה ִלי ַ‬
‫בשבחי השלוה‬
‫ָמים ְמאֹד ַר ִבּים‬
‫ְבּעוֹד י ִ‬
‫ַפ ִשׁי‪.‬‬
‫ֶא ְמ ָצא ֶאת ֶשׁ ִבּ ְק ָשׁה נ ְ‬
‫ַפ ִשׁי‬
‫ֶא ְמ ָצא ִלי ֶאת ַשׁ ְלוַת נ ְ‬
‫ֶא ְמשׁ ְֹך ַשׁ ְלוָה ִת ְשׁ ָעה ַק ִבּין‪.‬‬
‫ָמים ְמאֹד ַר ִבּים‬
‫וּבעוֹד י ִ‬
‫ְ‬
‫ַפ ִשׁי‪.‬‬
‫ֲבת נ ְ‬
‫ֶא ְר ַחק ִמתּוֹע ַ‬
‫ָשׁים‬
‫ֶא ְר ַחק ִמ ַכּ ַעשׂ ֲאנ ִ‬
‫ֲח ַמת ְפּ ָתנִ ים וְ ַע ְק ַר ִבּים‪.‬‬
‫וּבית ִמדּוֹת ִלי יִ ָבּנֶה‬
‫ֵ‬
‫ִאם כֹּה יִ ֵתּן ִלי ֱאל ִֹהים‬
‫ָתר בּוֹ וְ ָח ֵסר‪.‬‬
‫וְ ֵאין י ֵ‬
‫קוֹרא אַף ֵאין עוֹנֶה‬
‫בּוֹ ֵאין ֵ‬
‫ָהים‬
‫וְ עוֹף ָכּנָף ָע ָליו י ִ‬
‫וְ עוֹף ָכּנָף ְכּבוֹדוֹ ִשׁ ַער‪.‬‬
‫דברים שיש להם שעור‬
‫אוֹה ֶבת אוֹתוֹ ַע ְכ ָשׁו‬
‫ֲאנִ י ֶ‬
‫ְבּ ָכל כּ ִֹחי‪.‬‬
‫ָמים ֲא ָח ִדים וְ ֶא ְח ַדּל‪.‬‬
‫עוֹד י ִ‬
‫וְ ָכ ְך זֶה ָהיָה ַבּ ַה ְת ָח ָלה‪:‬‬
‫אוֹה ֶבת ֶאת ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ‬
‫אָה ְב ִתּי אוֹתוֹ ְכּמוֹ ֶשׁ ַח ָמּנִ ית ֶ‬
‫ַ‬
‫נוֹטה ֵא ָליו‪.‬‬
‫וּכמוֹ ֶשׁ ִהיא ָ‬
‫ְ‬
‫וְ לֹא ִמ ְפּנֵי ֶשׁהוּא ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ‬
‫וְ לֹא ֶשׁ ֲאנִ י ַח ָמּנִ ית‪.‬‬
‫אָה ְב ִתּי אוֹתוֹ ִבּ ְג ַלל ַמה ֶשּׁהוּא‬
‫ַ‬
‫וּמה ֶשּׁ ֲאנִ י‪.‬‬
‫ַ‬
‫‪259‬‬
‫גוֹבר ָע ַלי‬
‫ֲרי ֵ‬
‫ִל ְפ ָע ִמים ְכּ ֶשׁ ַצּע ִ‬
‫לוֹמר לוֹ‬
‫רוֹצה ַ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ָ‬
‫עוֹלם‪,‬‬
‫אַתּה ְבּ ָכל ָה ָ‬
‫ֲאדוֹנִ י‪ָ ,‬‬
‫עוֹלם‪ ,‬וְ ַרק לֹא פֹּה‪.‬‬
‫ְבּ ָכל ָה ָ‬
‫וּמ ְלּ ַבד זֶה‪ֲ ,‬אדוֹנִ י‪,‬‬
‫ִ‬
‫ַחיַּי נְ תוּנִ ים ְבּ ַכ ְפּ ָך‪.‬‬
‫ֲא ָבל ֵא ֶלּה ְד ָב ִרים ֶשׁיֵּשׁ ָל ֶהם ִשׁעוּר‬
‫וְ ֵא ֶלּה ְד ָב ִרים ֶשׁיֵּשׁ ָבּ ֶהם ָטעוּת‪.‬‬
‫ֵא ֶלּה ְד ָב ִרים‬
‫עוֹלם‪.‬‬
‫ֶשׁ ָהיוּ ֵמ ָ‬
‫האהבה האמיתית אינה כפי שהיא נראית‬
‫אָהבוּ ֶאת יוֹנָה‪,‬‬
‫ָשׁים ֲ‬
‫ָכּל ָה ֲאנ ִ‬
‫אָהבוּ ֶאת יוֹנָה‪,‬‬
‫ָשׁים ַבּ ֶח ֶדר ֲ‬
‫ָה ֲאנ ִ‬
‫ָס ָבּה ַעל ִס ְפרוּת‪,‬‬
‫יחה נ ַ‬
‫וְ ִעם ֶשׁ ַה ִשּׂ ָ‬
‫יוֹנה ִז ְכרוֹנָהּ ִל ְב ָר ָכה‪,‬‬
‫אָמרוּ‪ ,‬זֹאת ָ‬
‫ְ‬
‫וְ ִז ְכרוֹנָהּ ֶשׁל יוֹנָה ָה ַל ְך וְ ִה ְת ַמ ֵעט‬
‫אוֹתהּ ֶבּ ֱא ֶמת‪,‬‬
‫אָה ְבנוּ ָ‬
‫אוּלי לֹא ַ‬
‫ִכּי ַ‬
‫גַּם ִט ְב ִעי ַה ָדּ ָבר ֶשׁיִּ ְת ַכּ ְר ֵסם ַה ִזּ ָכּרוֹן‬
‫ְכּמוֹ ֶשׁ ֶה ָע ָפר ְמ ַכ ְר ֵסם ַבּ ְגּוִ יָּה‪.‬‬
‫אוֹה ִבים ֶאת ֲח ֵב ֵרינוּ?‬
‫ַחנוּ ֲ‬
‫ַה ִאם ֲאנ ְ‬
‫אוֹה ִבים ֶאת ֲח ֵב ֵרינוּ‪.‬‬
‫ֲאנ ְ‬
‫ַחנוּ לֹא ַמ ָמּשׁ ֲ‬
‫אוֹה ִבים ֶאת יְ ָל ֵדינוּ?‬
‫ַחנוּ ֲ‬
‫וְ ַה ִאם ֲאנ ְ‬
‫אוֹה ִבים ֶאת יְ ָל ֵדינוּ‪,‬‬
‫ַחנוּ ֲ‬
‫ִל ְפ ָע ִמים ֲאנ ְ‬
‫ֻמ ֶצ ֶמת‬
‫וְ ָלרֹב גַּם זֶה ְבּ ִמ ָדּה ְמצ ְ‬
‫ְכּמוֹ ֶשׁ ֵעץ ָה ָדר אוֹ ֵהב ֶאת ַה ַתּפּוּז‪,‬‬
‫שׁוּרת ִאי ֲה ָבנוֹת‬
‫וּמ ֵע ֶבר ָלזֶה ַ‬
‫ֵ‬
‫אַה ָבה ָה ֲא ִמ ִתּית‪.‬‬
‫אוֹכ ִלים ְבּ ָכל ֶפּה ָבּ ֲ‬
‫ָה ְ‬
‫אוֹה ִבים ֶאת ַע ְצ ֵמנוּ‪,‬‬
‫ַחנוּ ֲ‬
‫ַה ִאם ֲאנ ְ‬
‫ָתן ֶאת ָדּוִ ד?‬
‫אַה ַבת יְ הוֹנ ָ‬
‫ַמ ָמּשׁ ְכּ ֲ‬
‫ֹאמר ִדּבּוּר ֶשׁל ֱא ֶמת‬
‫מוּטב ֶשׁנּ ַ‬
‫ָ‬
‫ָתן‪.‬‬
‫וְ לֹא ְכּ ִפי ֶשׁקּוֹנֵן ָדּוִ ד ַעל יְ הוֹנ ָ‬
‫אוֹה ִבים ִבּ ְמ ִסירוּת‬
‫ַחנוּ ֲ‬
‫ֶאת ַע ְצ ֵמנוּ ֲאנ ְ‬
‫שּׁוּבים ְל ַע ְצ ֵמנוּ ֶק ֶשׁב ֻמ ְח ָלט‪.‬‬
‫ַק ִ‬
‫וְ אַף זֹאת ִבּ ְב ִחינַת ִשׁפּוּר ַמ ָמּ ִשׁי‬
‫אַך ִל ְפנֵי ֳח ָד ִשׁים ְמ ַע ִטּים‬
‫ֶשׁ ְ‬
‫ָקה‬
‫יהה ֲחז ָ‬
‫גּוּפנוּ ְכּ ִמ ָ‬
‫נִ ְת ַקף ֵ‬
‫יך ֶאת ַע ְצמוֹ ִבּ ְד ִחיפוּת ִמן ַהגָּג‪.‬‬
‫ְל ַה ְשׁ ִל ְ‬
‫‪260‬‬
‫הבגד‬
‫אָמ ָרה‪ָ ,‬תּ ְפרוּ ָל ְך ֶבּגֶד ֵמ ֵאשׁ‪,‬‬
‫יוֹד ַעת‪ִ ,‬היא ְ‬
‫אַתּ ַ‬
‫ְ‬
‫יה?‬
‫ָד ָ‬
‫יך נִ ְשׂ ְר ָפה ִא ְשׁתּוֹ ֶשׁל יָאזוֹן ִבּ ְבג ֶ‬
‫זוֹכ ֶרת ֵא ְ‬
‫אַתּ ֶ‬
‫ְ‬
‫אָמ ָרה‪ַ ,‬הכֹּל ָע ְשׂ ָתה ָלהּ ֵמ ֵדיאָה‪.‬‬
‫זֹאת ֵמ ֵדיאָה‪ִ ,‬היא ְ‬
‫אָמ ָרה‪.‬‬
‫ירה‪ִ ,‬היא ְ‬
‫אַתּ ְצ ִר ָ‬
‫ְ‬
‫יכה ִל ְהיוֹת ְז ִה ָ‬
‫ָתּ ְפרוּ ָל ְך ֶבּגֶד ַמ ְז ִהיר ְכּמוֹ ֶר ֶמץ‪,‬‬
‫ֶח ִלים‪.‬‬
‫בּוֹער ְכּמוֹ ג ָ‬
‫ֵ‬
‫אָמ ָרה‪ ,‬אַל ִתּ ְל ְבּ ִשׁי אוֹתוֹ‪.‬‬
‫אַתּ ִתּ ְל ְבּ ִשׁי אוֹתוֹ? ִהיא ְ‬
‫ְ‬
‫שׁוֹרק‪ ,‬זֶה ָה ַר ַעל ְמ ַפ ְע ֵפּ ַע‪.‬‬
‫רוּח ֵ‬
‫זֶה לֹא ָה ַ‬
‫ֲשׂי ְל ֵמ ֵדיאָה?‬
‫יכה‪ַ ,‬מה ַתּע ִ‬
‫ֵך נְ ִס ָ‬
‫ֲא ִפלּוּ ֵאינ ְ‬
‫אָמ ָרה‪,‬‬
‫יכה ְל ַה ְב ִחין ְבּקוֹלוֹת‪ִ ,‬היא ְ‬
‫אַתּ ְצ ִר ָ‬
‫ְ‬
‫שׁוֹרק‪.‬‬
‫רוּח ֵ‬
‫זֶה לֹא ָה ַ‬
‫יתי ַבּת ֵשׁשׁ?‬
‫אָמ ְר ִתּי ָלהּ‪ֶ ,‬את ַה ְזּ ַמן ֶשׁ ָהיִ ִ‬
‫זוֹכ ֶרת‪ַ ,‬‬
‫אַתּ ֶ‬
‫ְ‬
‫אתי ָל ְרחוֹב‪.‬‬
‫ָצ ִ‬
‫ֹאשׁי ְבּ ַשׁ ְמפּוֹ וְ ָכ ָכה י ָ‬
‫ָח ְפפוּ ֶאת ר ִ‬
‫אַח ַרי ְכּ ָענָן‪.‬‬
‫יפה נִ ְמ ַשׁ ְך ֲ‬
‫יח ַה ֲח ִפ ָ‬
‫ֵר ַ‬
‫ֶשׁם‪.‬‬
‫וּמן ַהגּ ֶ‬
‫רוּח ִ‬
‫חוֹלה ִמן ָה ַ‬
‫יתי ָ‬
‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ָהיִ ִ‬
‫ַ‬
‫ֶדּיוֹת יְ וָנִ יּוֹת‪,‬‬
‫עוֹד לֹא ֵה ַבנְ ִתּי ִל ְקרֹא אָז ְט ָרג ִ‬
‫חוֹלה ְמאֹד‪.‬‬
‫יתי ָ‬
‫ָדף וְ ָהיִ ִ‬
‫יח ַהבּ ֶֹשׂם נ ַ‬
‫ֲא ָבל ֵר ַ‬
‫ַהיּוֹם ֲאנִ י ְמ ִבינָה ֶשׁזֶּה בּ ֶֹשׂם ִבּ ְל ִתּי ִט ְב ִעי‪.‬‬
‫בּוֹער‪.‬‬
‫אָמ ָרה‪ָ ,‬תּ ְפרוּ ָל ְך ֶבּ ֶגד ֵ‬
‫ַמה יִּ ְהיֶה ִא ָתּ ְך‪ִ ,‬היא ְ‬
‫יוֹד ַעת‪.‬‬
‫אָמ ְר ִתּי‪ֲ ,‬אנִ י ַ‬
‫בּוֹער‪ַ ,‬‬
‫ָתּ ְפרוּ ִלי ֶבּגֶד ֵ‬
‫ָהר‪,‬‬
‫יכה ְל ִהזּ ֵ‬
‫אַתּ ְצ ִר ָ‬
‫אָמ ָרה‪ְ ,‬‬
‫עוֹמ ֶדת‪ְ ,‬‬
‫אַתּ ֶ‬
‫אָז ָמה ְ‬
‫בּוֹער?‬
‫יוֹד ַעת ַמה זֶּה ֶבּגֶד ֵ‬
‫אַתּ לֹא ַ‬
‫ַה ִאם ְ‬
‫ָהר‪.‬‬
‫אָמ ְר ִתּי‪ֲ ,‬א ָבל לֹא ְל ִהזּ ֵ‬
‫יוֹד ַעת‪ַ ,‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י ַ‬
‫יח ַהבּ ֶֹשׂם ַההוּא ְמ ַב ְל ֵבּל ֶאת ַדּ ְע ִתּי‪.‬‬
‫ֵר ַ‬
‫אָמ ְר ִתּי ָלהּ‪ :‬אַף ֶא ָחד לֹא ַחיָּב ְל ַה ְס ִכּים ִא ִתּי‬
‫ַ‬
‫ֶדּיוֹת יְ וָנִ יּוֹת‪.‬‬
‫נוֹתנֶת ֵאמוּן ִבּ ְט ָרג ִ‬
‫ֵאינֶנִּ י ֶ‬
‫בּוֹער ָבּ ֵאשׁ‪.‬‬
‫אָמ ָרה‪ַ ,‬ה ֶבּגֶד ֵ‬
‫ֲא ָבל ַה ֶבּגֶד‪ְ ,‬‬
‫אוֹמ ֶרת?‬
‫אַתּ ֶ‬
‫אוֹמ ֶרת‪ָ ,‬צ ַע ְק ִתּי‪ָ ,‬מה ְ‬
‫אַתּ ֶ‬
‫ָמה ְ‬
‫בּוֹע ֶרת‪.‬‬
‫ֵאין ָע ַלי ֶבּגֶד ִבּ ְכ ָלל‪ֲ ,‬ה ֵרי זֹאת ֲאנִ י ַה ֶ‬
‫‪261‬‬
‫המערב הכחול‬
‫ִאם ָהיָה ָשׁם ַרק ְכּ ִביש‬
‫אכה‬
‫וְ ֻח ְרבוֹת ָבּ ֵתּי‪ְ -‬מ ָל ָ‬
‫יח ֶא ָחד ָהרוּס‬
‫וְ ָצ ִר ַ‬
‫וְ ַכ ָמּה ִפּ ְג ֵרי ְמכוֹנוֹת‪,‬‬
‫דּוּע לֹא ָיכ ְֹל ִתּי‬
‫ַמ ַ‬
‫ָלבוֹא ַעד ִלבּוֹ ֶשׁל ַה ָשּׂ ֶדה?‬
‫ֵאין ְל ָך ָד ָבר ַמ ְכ ִאיב‬
‫ָחה ַעל ִלבּוֹ‬
‫ִמ ָשּׂ ֶדה ֶשׁ ֶא ֶבן נ ָ‬
‫יע ֶאל ֵמ ֵע ֶבר ַל ִגּ ְב ָעה‪,‬‬
‫רוֹצה ְל ַה ִגּ ַ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ָ‬
‫יע‬
‫רוֹצה ְל ַה ִגּ ַ‬
‫ָ‬
‫רוֹצה ָלבוֹא‪.‬‬
‫ָ‬
‫ֲבי ָה ֲא ָד ָמה‪,‬‬
‫רוֹצה ְל ֵה ָח ֵלץ ֵמע ִ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ָ‬
‫ִמ ַכּף ֶרגֶל וְ ַעד רֹאשׁ‬
‫ֲבי ָה ֲא ָד ָמה‪.‬‬
‫ֵמע ִ‬
‫יע ֶאל ְק ֵצה ַה ַמּ ְח ָשׁ ָבה‬
‫רוֹצה ְל ַה ִגּ ַ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ָ‬
‫יתהּ ְמ ַח ֶתּ ֶכת ְכּ ַס ִכּין‪.‬‬
‫אשׁ ָ‬
‫ֶשׁאַף ֵר ִ‬
‫שׁוּלי ַה ֶשׁ ֶמשׁ‬
‫רוֹצה ַלעֲלוֹת ֶאל ֵ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ָ‬
‫וְ ֶשׁלֹּא ֶא ְהיֶה ְל ַמ ֲאכ ֶֹלת ֵאשׁ‪.‬‬
‫ַה ְלוַאי ֶשׁ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ָהיָה ְל ַה ֵלּ ְך‬
‫ילים ַעל ְפּנֵי ַה ַמּיִ ם‪,‬‬
‫ְבּ ַר ְג ֵלי ֲח ִס ִ‬
‫ַה ְלוַאי ֶשׁ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ָהיָה ַלעֲלוֹת‬
‫בוֹהה ֶשׁל ַק ְרנֵי ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ‪,‬‬
‫ְבּ ֶק ֶשׁת ְגּ ָ‬
‫יע‬
‫ַה ְלוַאי ֶשׁ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ָהיָה ְל ַה ִגּ ַ‬
‫ֶאל ָכּל ֶה ָע ִרים ֶשׁ ֵמּ ֵע ֶבר ַליָּם‪,‬‬
‫ֲה ֵרי ְל ָך שׁוּב ָדּ ָבר ַמ ְכ ִאיב‪:‬‬
‫חוֹף ֶשׁל יָם ֶשׁ ֵאין בּוֹ ְס ִפינוֹת‪.‬‬
‫ָמים ַה ָבּ ִאים ַבּ ָשּׁנָה‪,‬‬
‫אַחד ַהיּ ִ‬
‫ְבּ ַ‬
‫ֶתּ ְח ַשׁ ְך ֵעין ַהיָּם ֵמרֹב ְס ִפינוֹת‪.‬‬
‫יעה‬
‫יר ָ‬
‫ֵר ַקע ִכּ ִ‬
‫אוֹתהּ ַה ָשּׁ ָעה י ָ‬
‫ְבּ ָ‬
‫ֲבה ָה ֲא ָד ָמה‪.‬‬
‫ָכּל ַמע ֵ‬
‫וְ ִת ְז ַרח ָלנוּ ֶשׁ ֶמשׁ ְכּ ֻח ָלּה ַכּיָּם‪,‬‬
‫ִתּ ְז ַרח ָלנוּ ֶשׁ ֶמשׁ ַח ָמּה ְכּמוֹ ַעיִ ן‪,‬‬
‫נּוּכל ַלעֲלוֹת‬
‫ֶשׁ ַתּ ְמ ִתּין ָלנוּ ַעד ֶשׁ ַ‬
‫ֲרב ַה ָכּחֹל‪.‬‬
‫ְבּ ֶל ְכ ָתּה ֶאל ַה ַמּע ָ‬
‫‪262‬‬
‫השתדלות נוספת‬
‫ֻל ָך‬
‫ִאלּוּ ָיכ ְֹל ִתּי ְל ַה ִשּׂיג אוֹ ְת ָך כּ ְ‬
‫ֻל ָך‪,‬‬
‫אוֹת ָך כּ ְ‬
‫יך ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ִלי ְל ַה ִשּׂיג ְ‬
‫ֵא ְ‬
‫הוּבים‬
‫ילים ָה ֲא ִ‬
‫יוֹתר ִמן ַה ְפּ ִס ִ‬
‫ֲא ִפלוּ ֵ‬
‫יוֹתר;‬
‫צוּבים ְבּ ֵ‬
‫יוֹתר ִמן ֶה ָה ִרים ַה ֲח ִ‬
‫ֵ‬
‫יוֹתר ִמ ִמּ ְכרוֹת‬
‫ֵ‬
‫בּוֹער‪,‬‬
‫ַה ֶפּ ָחם ַה ֵ‬
‫ֹאמר ִמ ְכרוֹת ַה ֶפּ ָחם ַה ָכּבוּי‬
‫נ ַ‬
‫וְ ֶה ֶבל ַהיּוֹם ַהבּוֹ ֵער ְכּ ַתנּוּר‪.‬‬
‫אוֹת ָך ְל ָכל ַה ָשּׁנִ ים‬
‫לוּ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִשּׂיג ְ‬
‫אוֹתך ִמ ָכּל ַה ָשּׁנִ ים‪,‬‬
‫ְ‬
‫יך ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִשּׂיג‬
‫ֵא ְ‬
‫יך ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ֲא ִר ְ‬
‫ֵא ְ‬
‫אַחת‬
‫רוֹע ָה ַ‬
‫יך ֶאת ַה ְזּ ַ‬
‫יקה‪,‬‬
‫אַפ ִר ָ‬
‫ָהר ְבּ ְ‬
‫ְכּ ֶפ ֶלג ֶא ָחד ֶשׁל נ ָ‬
‫ִכּ ְראוֹת ַבּ ֲחלוֹם ֶאת ִמ ְפ ַרץ ַה ְסּ ָערוֹת‬
‫ִכּ ְראוֹת ַבּ ֲחלוֹם ֳאנִ יָּה ֶשׁ ָטּ ְב ָעה‪,‬‬
‫יצוּע‬
‫ְכּ ֵשׁם ֶשׁ ְמּ ַד ִמּים ֲענָנִ ים ִכּ ַ‬
‫ָצוּע ַלגּוּף‪,‬‬
‫שׁוֹשׁנֵּי ֲענָנִ ים ְכּי ַ‬
‫ַ‬
‫אוּך‬
‫צוֹת ָך ֵהם לֹא יִ ָשּׂ ָ‬
‫אַך ִבּ ְר ְ‬
‫ְ‬
‫אוּך‪.‬‬
‫אַל ַתּ ֲא ֵמן ִכּי יִ ָשּׂ ָ‬
‫ֻלּ ָך‬
‫ֻל ָך‪ֶ -‬שׁ ְבּכ ְ‬
‫אוֹת ָך כּ ְ‬
‫לוּ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִשּׂיג ְ‬
‫אוֹת ָך ְכּמוֹ ַה ַמּ ֶתּ ֶכת‪,‬‬
‫לוּ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִשּׂיג ְ‬
‫חשׁת‪,‬‬
‫מּוּדים ֶשׁל נְ ֶ‬
‫ֹאמר ְכּמוֹ ַע ִ‬
‫נ ַ‬
‫ֻלּה‬
‫חשׁת ְסג ָ‬
‫ֹאמר ְכּמוֹ ַעמּוּד נְ ֶ‬
‫נ ַ‬
‫ָכ ְר ִתּי ַבּ ַקּיִ ץ ֶשׁ ָע ַבר(;‬
‫) ָה ַעמּוּד ֶשׁזּ ַ‬
‫יתי‬
‫וְ ַק ְר ַקע ַהיָּם ֶשׁלֹּא ָר ִא ִ‬
‫וְ ַק ְר ַקע ַהיָּם ֶשׁ ֲאנִ י רוֹאָה‬
‫ְבּע ֶֹמס ֶשׁל ֶא ֶלף ֻס ְבּ ֵכי‪ֲ -‬אוִ יר‬
‫וּמאָה נְ ִשׁימוֹת ְכּ ֵבדוֹת‪.‬‬
‫ֶא ֶלף ֵ‬
‫ֻלּ ָך‪ֶ -‬שׁ ְבּ ַע ְכ ָשׁו‬
‫אוֹת ָך כּ ְ‬
‫לוּ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִשּׂיג ְ‬
‫יך ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ֶשׁ ִתּ ְהיֶה ִלי ְכּמוֹ ֲאנִ י ַע ְצ ִמי‪.‬‬
‫ֵא ְ‬
‫‪263‬‬
‫התרוששות‬
‫רוֹשׁשׁ‬
‫ִאם ְל ִה ְת ֵ‬
‫רוֹצה ְכּמוֹ ֶא ֶרץ ֲח ֵר ָבה‬
‫ֲאנִ י ָ‬
‫רוֹשׁשׁ‬
‫ִאם ְל ִה ְת ֵ‬
‫ַאוָה‪.‬‬
‫רוֹצה ְבּג ֲ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ָ‬
‫תּוֹרה‬
‫ִס ְפ ֵרי ָ‬
‫ילים ִמן ָה ֵאשׁ‬
‫ַמ ִצּ ִ‬
‫אוֹתי לֹא‪.‬‬
‫ִ‬
‫רוֹצה ְל ַב ֵקּשׁ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ָ‬
‫ֶשׁ ִאם אָמוּת‬
‫רוּפה;‬
‫ֶא ְהיֶה ָכּ ֳאנִ יָּה ְט ָ‬
‫ַמיִ ם ֶשׁ ֵאין ָל ֶהם סוֹף‬
‫יְ ַכבּוּ ֶאת ַה ְשּׂ ֵר ָפה‪.‬‬
‫זכרון תמים‬
‫ַרק ְכּ ֶשׁ ַה ָפּנִ ים נִ ְמ ָחקוֹת‬
‫ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ִל ְזכֹּר פֹּה ָד ָבר ִבּ ְשׁ ֵלמוּתוֹ‪,‬‬
‫ַרק ְכּ ֶשׁ ַה ָפּנִ ים נִ ְמ ָחקוֹת‪.‬‬
‫תּוֹל ִלים‬
‫וְ ָהאוֹרוֹת ִמ ְשׁ ְ‬
‫חוֹר ִגים ִמ ִמּ ְסגָּרוֹת‪.‬‬
‫וְ ַה ְצּ ָב ִעים ְ‬
‫חוֹלים נִ ְכ ִפּים‪.‬‬
‫קוֹמם ְכּמוֹ ִ‬
‫כּוֹכ ִבים צוֹנְ ִחים ִמ ְמּ ָ‬
‫ָ‬
‫ִדּ ָשׁ ִאים ִמן ָה ֶ‬
‫ָקים‬
‫ֶאנ ִ‬
‫אָרץ נ ֱ‬
‫ישׁה(‪.‬‬
‫יח ָתם גָּדוֹל ֵמ ֶח ְב ֵלי ַה ְכּ ִמ ָ‬
‫) ְכּ ֵאב ְצ ִמ ָ‬
‫ָכּל ַה ְדּ ָב ִרים ֶשׁ ָטּ ִחים ֶאת ֵעינֵינוּ‬
‫סוֹגים ֶאל ַה ְצּ ָל ִלים‪,‬‬
‫נְ ִ‬
‫וְ גַם ַה ָפּנִ ים‪.‬‬
‫ֲמ ִקּים‪.‬‬
‫ַמ ֶשּׁהוּ זָע ַבּ ַמּע ַ‬
‫ָמים‬
‫ַכּ ָמּה י ִ‬
‫וּר ָע ִמים‬
‫ַכּ ָמּה ָשׁנִ ים‪ ,‬סוּפוֹת ְ‬
‫ִח ִכּינוּ ָלזֶה ֶשׁיִּ ְפרֹץ‬
‫ֵמע ֶֹמק ָה ֲא ָד ָמה‪,‬‬
‫ִז ָכּרוֹן ֶא ָחד ָתּ ִמים‬
‫שׁוֹשׁן‬
‫ְכּ ֶפ ַרח ָ‬
‫אָדֹם ָבּ ִהיר‪.‬‬
‫‪264‬‬
‫חיפשתי ולא מצאתי את חולצתי השחורה‬
‫ַבּ ַהת ַעל ִכּ ֵסּא‬
‫ָדים ִמ ְתגּ ַ‬
‫ֲר ַמת ַה ְבּג ִ‬
‫עֵ‬
‫חוֹרה‬
‫תוֹכהּ ֶאת ֻח ְל ָצ ִתי ַה ְשּׁ ָ‬
‫מוֹצאת ְבּ ָ‬
‫וְ ֵאינֶנִּ י ֵ‬
‫זאת החלצה שרציתי ללבש‬
‫ִבּ ְכ ֵדי ִל ְקנוֹת ֶאת ִל ְבּ ָך‪.‬‬
‫לוֹתי‬
‫ירה ֶאת ָכּל ִשׂ ְמ ַ‬
‫ֲאנִ י לֹא ַמ ִכּ ָ‬
‫אוֹת ָך‪.‬‬
‫זוֹכ ֶרת ְ‬
‫וְ גַם לֹא ַמ ָמּשׁ ֶ‬
‫ַליְ ָלה ֶא ָחד ָע ִשׂינוּ ַשׁמּוֹת‬
‫וּב ָך‪.‬‬
‫ִבּי ְ‬
‫עוֹב ֶרת‬
‫חוֹל ִפים ָשׁנָה ֶ‬
‫ָמים ְ‬
‫ַהיּ ִ‬
‫ְבּ ִלי ַמנְ ִגּינָה ֲאנִ י נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת‪.‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י ִא ָשּׁה ֶשׁאַף ַפּ ַעם ְבּשׁוּם ָמקוֹם‬
‫לֹא ָל ְמ ָדה ְל ַנגֵּן‪.‬‬
‫יטב ַהיְ כ ֶֹלת‬
‫ַחשׁ ְכּ ֵמ ַ‬
‫נּוּכל ְלנ ֵ‬
‫ִתּ ְשׁמֹר ָע ַלי ַה ַפּ ַעם ֶשׁ ַ‬
‫יוֹתר‪,‬‬
‫ַמה ָקּרוֹב ֵ‬
‫מוֹת ָך?‬
‫מוֹתי אוֹ ְ‬
‫ִ‬
‫אַח ֶרת‬
‫וּבין ֶא ְפ ָשׁרוּת ָכּזוֹ וְ ֶ‬
‫ֵ‬
‫ַה ַמּנְ ִגּינָה ֵאי ֶננָּה נִ ְשׁ ֶא ֶרת‪.‬‬
‫שׁוֹר ֵצי ַתּנִּ ינִ ים‪.‬‬
‫ָכּל ַליְ ָלה ֲאנִ י ַ‬
‫צוֹל ַחת נְ ָהרוֹת ַח ִמּים ְ‬
‫ַמה ֶשּׁ ָהיָה ָהיָה‪.‬‬
‫לֹא יְ ֻא ַמּן ְבּ ֵאיזוֹ ַקלּוּת ַדּ ַעת‬
‫אַחת ַבּ ַחיִּ ים‬
‫יך ַפּ ַעם ַ‬
‫ָשׁ ַכ ְח ָתּ ֵא ְ‬
‫יתי ִא ָשּׁה ַחיָּה‪.‬‬
‫ָהיִ ִ‬
‫אָב ִדין וְ לֹא ִמ ְשׁ ַתּ ְכּ ִחים‬
‫ֲח ָבל ַעל ְדּ ְ‬
‫ִבּ ְמי ָ‬
‫ֻחד ַבּ ַלּיְ ָלה ַהזֶּה‬
‫אוֹתי ִכּ ְכוִ יָּה‪.‬‬
‫צּוֹרב ִ‬
‫ֶשׁ ֵ‬
‫ַמה ֶשּׁ ָהיָה ָהיָה‪.‬‬
‫אַה ָבה‪.‬‬
‫ִתּ ְד ַבּק ְלשׁוֹנִ י ְל ִח ִכּי ִאם א ַֹמר עוֹד ַפּ ַעם ִמ ִלּים ֶשׁל ֲ‬
‫רוֹז ָמ ִרין‬
‫וּב ָשׂ ִמים וְ ֵריחוֹת ְ‬
‫ְדּ ַבשׁ ְ‬
‫נּוֹתר ִלי ִמ ְמּ ָך‪.‬‬
‫ֵהם ַמה ֶשּׁ ַ‬
‫וְ ַה ַלּיְ ָלה ַהזֶּה אָר ְֹך ָכּל ָכּ ְך‬
‫וְ אָיֹם ְכּנִ ְג ָדּלוֹת‬
‫ַמה נִּ ְשׁ ַתּנָּה ַה ַלּיְ ָלה ַהזֶּה‬
‫ִמ ָכּל ַה ֵלּילוֹת‪.‬‬
‫אַה ָבה ֲאנִ י ְמ ַב ֶקּ ֶשׁת‬
‫לֹא ֲ‬
‫ַרק ַמיִ ם ַר ִבּים‬
‫ֹאשׁי‬
‫ֵמ ַעל ְלר ִ‬
‫אַה ָבה‪.‬‬
‫ֶשׁיְּ ַכבּוּ ֶאת ָה ֲ‬
‫ימי ַהיָּם ַה ִתּיכוֹן‬
‫ָכּל ֵמ ֵ‬
‫וְ ַהיָּם ָהאָדֹם וְ ַהיָּם ַה ָשּׁחוֹר‬
‫ֵהם ַמיִ ם ֶשׁל ַשׁ ְלוָה‪.‬‬
‫‪265‬‬
‫אוֹתי ְל ָח ְפ ִשׁי‬
‫ַתּר ִלי ַה ַפּ ַעם ְשׁ ַלח ִ‬
‫וֵ‬
‫ֻח ֶמת וְ ָח ְפ ִשׁיָּה‪.‬‬
‫ַאנִ י ֶא ְהיֶה ְמנ ֶ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫סּוֹב ִבים ַבּחוּץ‬
‫שּׁוֹמ ִרים ַה ְ‬
‫לֹא יִ ְמ ְצאוּנִ י ַה ְ‬
‫לֹא יִ ְפ ְצעוּנִ י וְ לֹא יַכּוּנִ י‬
‫ישׁית אוֹ ְשׁנִ יָּה‪.‬‬
‫ַפּ ַעם ְשׁ ִל ִ‬
‫אַתּה י ֵ‬
‫ֲא ָבל ָ‬
‫ָשׁן ֵשׁנָה ֶשׁל ִשׁ ְכ ָחה‬
‫יך וְ ַעל ַע ְצ ְמ ָך‬
‫חוֹלם ָע ֶל ָ‬
‫וְ ֵ‬
‫וְ גַם ִלי יֵשׁ כּ ַֹח ִבּ ְל ִתּי ְמשׁ ָֹער‬
‫יך ִל ְשׁכּ ַֹח‬
‫ִל ְשׁכּ ַֹח ַמה ֶשּׁ ָצּ ִר ְ‬
‫אוֹת ָך‪.‬‬
‫ְבּ ִע ָקּר ִל ְשׁכּ ַֹח ְ‬
‫חמדה‬
‫מוֹה‪,‬‬
‫ָד ְע ִתּי ֶח ְמ ָדּה ֶשׁלֹּא ָהיְ ָתה ָכּ ָ‬
‫ָשׁם י ַ‬
‫יעי ְבּ ַשׁ ַבּת‬
‫וְ ַה ְזּ ַמן ַההוּא ָהיָה יוֹם ַה ְשׁ ִב ִ‬
‫ילנוֹת ָהיוּ ִמ ְת ַע ְצּ ִמים ִל ְגבּ ַֹהּ‪.‬‬
‫וְ ָכל ַבּ ֵדּי ִא ָ‬
‫ָהר ִלנְ בּ ַֹע‪,‬‬
‫שׁוֹטף ְכּנ ָ‬
‫וְ ָהאוֹר ָה ַל ְך ִמ ָסּ ִביב ֵ‬
‫ַלגַּל ַה ַח ָמּה ָח ַמד‪.‬‬
‫ַלגַּל ָה ַעיִ ן ֶאת גּ ְ‬
‫וְ ג ְ‬
‫מוֹה‪.‬‬
‫ָד ְע ִתי ֶח ְמ ָדּה ֶשׁלֹּא ָהיְ ָתה ָכּ ָ‬
‫אָז י ַ‬
‫ָדע ָשׂב ַֹע‪,‬‬
‫יחים וְ ָהאוֹר לֹא י ַ‬
‫אשׁי ַה ִשּׂ ִ‬
‫ִה ְז ִהירוּ ָר ֵ‬
‫ווֹתיו נִ ַצּת‪,‬‬
‫אַד ָ‬
‫וּב ָכל ְ‬
‫ָהר ְ‬
‫ַלּי ַהנּ ָ‬
‫נִ ַתּ ְך ְבּג ֵ‬
‫לבל ַֹע‪.‬‬
‫ָהב ְ‬
‫פּוּח ז ָ‬
‫ֹאשׁי ָהיָה ְבּ ֵעינָיו ְכּ ַת ַ‬
‫אַף ר ִ‬
‫יהן ִל ְבל ַֹע‬
‫ָהר ְצ ֻהבּוֹת ָפּעֲרוּ ֶאת ִפּ ֶ‬
‫שׁוֹשׁנֵּי נ ָ‬
‫ַ‬
‫ָהר ְבּ ָח ְפזָן וְ ִג ְבעוֹל ָה ֵע ֶשׂב ַה ָשׁט‪,‬‬
‫אַדווֹת ַהנ ָ‬
‫ֶאת ְ‬
‫יעי ְבּ ַשׁ ָבּת‬
‫וְ אוֹתוֹ ַהיּוֹם ָהיָה יוֹם ַה ְשּׁ ִב ִ‬
‫שׁוּקה ִל ְגבּ ַֹהּ‬
‫ילנוֹת ִמ ְת ַע ְצּ ִמים ִבּ ְת ָ‬
‫וְ ָכל ַבּ ֵדּי ִא ָ‬
‫ָד ְע ִתּי ֶח ְמ ָדּה ֶשׁלֹא ָהיְ ָתה ָכּמוֹ ָה‪.‬‬
‫וְ אַז י ַ‬
‫ירק עלים‬
‫ְשׁנַת ֶא ֶלף ְתּ ַשׁע ֵמאוֹת וְ ִת ְשׁ ִעים‬
‫ֲר ִבי‪.‬‬
‫עוֹלם ַה ַמּע ָ‬
‫ְל ִמנְ יַן ָה ָ‬
‫רוּע ַע ִתּיר ַר ֲח ִמים ְמ ַמ ֵלּא ֶאת ַה ַחלּוֹן‬
‫ֶרק ָפּ ַ‬
‫יֶ‬
‫ֻדּים ְצ ַה ְב ָה ִבים‬
‫בּוֹד ִדים‪ ,‬וְ ר ִ‬
‫ַמּר ִבּ ְפ ָר ִחים ְ‬
‫ְמנ ֵ‬
‫יתה ֶשׁ ִה ְת ַפּ ְזּ ָרה‪.‬‬
‫ְכּמוֹ ְפּ ֵ‬
‫תוֹתי ֲח ִב ָ‬
‫ַרקוּת‪.‬‬
‫תּוֹך ַהיּ ְ‬
‫פּוֹרץ ִמ ְ‬
‫ֶפּ ַרח אָדֹם ָגּדוֹל לֹא ֵ‬
‫ֶפּ ַרח גָּדוֹל ַבּל יִ ָמּ ֵצא‪.‬‬
‫ְשׁנַת ֶא ֶלף ְתּ ַשׁע ֵמאוֹת וְ ִת ְשׁ ִעים‬
‫דוֹלים‪.‬‬
‫ֵאינָהּ ְשׁנַת ַה ְפּ ָר ִחים ַה ְגּ ִ‬
‫וְ ַעל ַהיּ ֶ‬
‫ֵחים‬
‫ֶרק ְמ ַכ ֶסּה ְת ִריס ֶשׁ ְשּׁ ַל ָבּיו ְרו ִ‬
‫חוֹרי‬
‫ֲשׂה ֵ‬
‫וְ ַעל ַה ְתּ ִריס וִ ילוֹן אָרוּג ַמע ֵ‬
‫יצים‪.‬‬
‫טוֹרים וְ ִצ ִ‬
‫ְפּ ִ‬
‫‪266‬‬
‫לֹא ָהיְ ָתה ִלי ָשׁנָה ָר ָעה ִמזֹּאת ְבּ ָכל יְ ֵמי ַחיַּי‬
‫ירה ַר ֲח ִמים‬
‫ַרקוּת ָה ֵע ִצים ַמ ִגּ ָ‬
‫וְ י ְ‬
‫ְכּמוֹ ְת ִמ ַסּת ַמ ֶט ְרנָה‬
‫ֶר ִלים‪.‬‬
‫וּמינ ָ‬
‫אכוּתי‪ַ ,‬ק ְל ְציוּם ִ‬
‫ִ‬
‫ֶשׁיֵּשׁ ָבּהּ ֲח ַלב ֵאם ְמ ָל‬
‫ירי‪ָ ,‬שׁנָה ֶשׁל אוֹר ו ֵ‬
‫ֻקּים‬
‫ָצל יְ ר ִ‬
‫ַקּ ִ‬
‫יִ‬
‫וּת ִריס ְפּעוּר ְר ָפפוֹת‬
‫חוֹרי ְ‬
‫ַא ִריג ַ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫ֶדר ְשׁנַת ַחיִּ ים‪.‬‬
‫ֵאינָהּ ְבּג ֶ‬
‫ִבּ ְשׁנַת ֶא ֶלף ְתּ ַשׁע ֵמאוֹת וְ ִת ְשׁ ִעים‬
‫אָזלוּ ִמ ֶמּנִּ י ַה ַחיִּ ים‬
‫ְ‬
‫ְכּמוֹ גוּפוֹת ֵ‬
‫ָבשׁוּ‬
‫גוּפם י ְ‬
‫נוֹז ֵלי ָ‬
‫תּוֹעי ִמ ְד ָבּר ֶשׁ ָכּל ְ‬
‫תּנָה ַל ִחלּוּץ‪.‬‬
‫ְבּ ַה ְמ ָ‬
‫כישופים‬
‫ַהיּוֹם ֲאנִ י ִג ְב ָעה‪,‬‬
‫ָמ ָחר ֲאנִ י יָם‪.‬‬
‫תוֹעה‬
‫ָכּל יוֹם ֲאנִ י ָ‬
‫ִכּ ְב ֵאר ֶשׁל ִמ ְריָם‪,‬‬
‫בּוּעה‬
‫ָכּל יוֹם ֲאנִ י ָ‬
‫יקים‪.‬‬
‫אוֹב ֶדת ַבּנְּ ִק ִ‬
‫ֶ‬
‫ַבּ ַלּיְ ָלה ָח ַל ְמ ִתּי‬
‫ֻמּים‬
‫סוּסים ֲאד ִ‬
‫ִ‬
‫ֻקּים‪,‬‬
‫ֻלּים וִ יר ִ‬
‫ְסג ִ‬
‫ַלבּ ֶֹקר ִה ְק ַשׁ ְב ִתּי‬
‫פּוּך ַעד ֵאין ֵקץ‪,‬‬
‫ִפּ ְכ ְ‬
‫ִק ְשׁקוּשׁ ֶשׁל ֻתּ ִכּים‪,‬‬
‫ַהיּוֹם ֲאנִ י ַשׁ ְבּלוּל‬
‫ָמ ָחר ֲאנִ י ֵעץ‬
‫ָרם ַכּ ָתּ ָמר‪.‬‬
‫כּוּך‬
‫יתי ְ‬
‫ֶא ְתמוֹל ָהיִ ִ‬
‫ַהיּוֹם ֲאנִ י ְצ ָד ִפית‪.‬‬
‫ָמ ָחר ֲאנִ י ָמ ָחר‪.‬‬
‫כתמי אור‬
‫אָפל נִ ְט ָבּעוּ ְכּ ָת ִמים ֶשׁל אוֹר‬
‫וּבח ֶֹמר ַהזֶּה ָה ֵ‬
‫ַ‬
‫וְ לֹא נִ ְשׁ ַמע ָבּ ֶהם קוֹל וְ ַר ַחשׁ ָבּם לֹא ַי ֲעבֹר‬
‫זוֹל ִפים ִמן ַה ָפּ ְך‪.‬‬
‫ָרים וְ ְ‬
‫וְ ֵהם ְכּמוֹ ֶשׁ ֶמן ַהמּוֹר נִ גּ ִ‬
‫וְ ֵהם נִ גּ ִ‬
‫נוּע ָתם‬
‫וּשׁ ֵלוָה ְת ָ‬
‫ָרים ִכּ ְב ָשׂ ִמים וְ ַר ָכּה ְ‬
‫בּוּע ָק ָטן‬
‫אָפל ֵהם נִ ְקוִ ים ְל ַמ ַ‬
‫וּבח ֶֹמר ַהזֶּה ָה ֵ‬
‫ַ‬
‫דוֹתם‪.‬‬
‫עוֹב ִרים ַעל ְגּ ָ‬
‫גּוֹאים וְ ְ‬
‫וְ יֵשׁ ָבּ ֶהם ֵחן וְ ֶח ְמ ָדּה ֶשׁ ִ‬
‫‪267‬‬
‫ָהב‬
‫אָפל נִ ְב ָעה ִמ ְכ ֶרה ֶשׁל ז ָ‬
‫וּבח ֶֹמר ַהזֶּה ָה ֵ‬
‫ַ‬
‫ֲמ ָקּיו‬
‫ַלּה ֶאת ַמע ַ‬
‫אָפל ְמג ֶ‬
‫וְ ַהח ֶֹמר ַהזֶּה ָה ֵ‬
‫ָהב‪.‬‬
‫אַה ָבה ֲענֻגָּה ֵבּין ָהא ֶֹפל ְל ֵבין ַהזּ ָ‬
‫וְ יֵשׁ ֲ‬
‫וְ ֵהם ֲח ִ‬
‫וּמ ָשּׁב‬
‫וּשׁ ֵלוִ ים וְ ֵאין ָבּ ֶהם קוֹל ַ‬
‫בוּקים ְ‬
‫נוֹשק ֶאת ַהח ֶֹמר ַהזֶּה ִבּ ְשׂ ָפ ָתיו‬
‫ַטּף וְ ֵ‬
‫וְ ָהאוֹר ְמנ ֵ‬
‫ָהב‪.‬‬
‫הוֹפ ְך ֶאת גּוּפוֹ ִכּ ְב ֵאר ְל ִכ ְת ֵמי ַהזּ ָ‬
‫וְ ָהא ֶֹפל ֵ‬
‫אָפל נִ ְט ָבּעוּ ְכּ ָת ִמים ֶשׁל אוֹר‬
‫ַבּח ֶֹמר ַהזֶּה ָה ֵ‬
‫וְ לֹא נִ ְשׁ ַמע ָבּ ֶהם קוֹל וְ ַר ַחשׁ ָבּם לֹא ַי ֲעבֹר‪.‬‬
‫זוֹל ִפים ִמן ַה ָפּ ְך‪.‬‬
‫ָרים וְ ְ‬
‫וְ ֵהם ְכּמוֹ ֶשׁ ֶמן ַהמּוֹר נִ גּ ִ‬
‫מחלון וכליון‬
‫ַמהוּ ַה ָדּ ָבר ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָלא ַהזֶּה?‬
‫ֹאחז ִבּי ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָלא ַהזֶּה‬
‫ִאם י ַ‬
‫חוֹרים‪,‬‬
‫ִכּ ְשׁ ִפיפוֹן ַעל ִבּ ְצ ֵעי ַה ַמּיִ ם ַה ְשּׁ ִ‬
‫ַאנִ י א ַֹבד‪.‬‬
‫יוֹמי ו ֲ‬
‫ֶח ַשׁ ְך ִ‬
‫יְ‬
‫ֹאחז ִבּי ַה ָדּ ָבר ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָלא ַהזֶּה‪,‬‬
‫ִאם י ַ‬
‫ַמּים ֲאנִ י נָפוֹץ‪,‬‬
‫ֵבּין ִשׁ ְב ָעה י ִ‬
‫יב ִרים ַעל ִבּ ְצ ֵעי ַה ַמּיִ ם‬
‫ֶע ְדנַת ֵא ָ‬
‫ָצ ִפים ַל ָמּקוֹם ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָלא ַההוּא‪.‬‬
‫ַמהוּ ַה ָדּ ָבר ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָלא ַהזֶּה?‬
‫גֻּמּוֹת ֶשׁל אוֹר ַעל ִבּ ְצ ֵעי ַה ַמּיִ ם‪,‬‬
‫וּשׁ ִפיפוֹנִ ים ֶשׁ ַבּ ִמּ ְד ָבּ ִריּוֹת‬
‫ְ‬
‫ָקים ָכּמוֹנִ י‪ָ ,‬כּמוֹנִ י‪.‬‬
‫ֶאנ ִ‬
‫נֱ‬
‫וּמהוּ ַה ָדּ ָבר ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָלא ַהזֶּה?‬
‫ַ‬
‫ָענִ י‪,‬‬
‫וּפג ַ‬
‫ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָלא ַהזֶּה ְכּ ָבר ָבּא ְ‬
‫וּפוֹר ַח‬
‫ֹאשׁי ְמ ַציֵּץ ְכּ ִצפּוֹר ֵ‬
‫ר ִ‬
‫אוֹבד ְכּ ֶפ ִתי‪.‬‬
‫ַאנִ י ִמ ְתרוֹנֵן וְ ֵ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫‪268‬‬
‫מים רבים‬
‫ֳאנִ יָּה‬
‫ָצ ָפה ְבּ ִלי עֹגֶן‪.‬‬
‫יֵשׁ ָלהּ ִמ ְפ ָרשׂ‬
‫רוּח‪.‬‬
‫ֲא ָבל ַבּיָּם ֵאין ַ‬
‫ַהיָּם ִמ ְת ַר ֵחב‬
‫אוֹקיָנוֹס‪.‬‬
‫הוּא נִ ְשׁ ָפּ ְך ָל ְ‬
‫ֵמא ֶֹפק ַעד א ֶֹפק‬
‫ֵאין ֵצל‪.‬‬
‫יקה‬
‫ָה ֳאנִ יָּה ַע ִתּ ָ‬
‫ִמן ַה ֵמּאָה ַה ֲח ֵמשׁ ֶע ְשׂ ֵרה‪.‬‬
‫נוֹע‪.‬‬
‫ֵאין ָלהּ ָמ ַ‬
‫ִהיא ִה ְפ ִליגָה ְלהוֹדוּ‪.‬‬
‫ַה ֶלּ ֶחם ִה ְת ַע ֵפּשׁ‪.‬‬
‫ֵפה‪.‬‬
‫ָפּ ְר ָצה ָבּהּ ַמגּ ָ‬
‫רוּע‪.‬‬
‫ַה ִמּ ְפ ָרשׂ ָק ַ‬
‫אָזלוּ‪.‬‬
‫ַה ַמּיִ ם ְ‬
‫יע‬
‫ידים ַתּ ִגּ ַ‬
‫ירת יְ ִל ִ‬
‫אוּלי ִס ַ‬
‫ַ‬
‫ירס‬
‫וְ ָת ִביא ִתּ ָ‬
‫אוֹ ַמ ֶשּׁהוּ ִל ְבל ַֹע‪.‬‬
‫חוֹבל נוֹאָשׁ‬
‫ַרב ַה ֵ‬
‫קוֹפץ ַל ַמּיִ ם‪.‬‬
‫הוּא ֵ‬
‫מוּטב לוֹ ִל ְטבּ ַֹע‪.‬‬
‫ָ‬
‫ֵבּינְ ַתיִ ם הוּא ָצף‬
‫מוּך ָל ֳאנִ יָּה‪.‬‬
‫ְבּ ָס ְ‬
‫חוֹבל ַה ֵשּׁנִ י ִמ ְס ַתּ ֵכּל ַבּ ִמּ ְשׁ ֶק ֶפת‪.‬‬
‫ַה ֵ‬
‫ֵאין הוֹדוּ וְ ֵאין ֶל ֶחם‪.‬‬
‫ֵאין ָבּ ָשׂר וְ ֵאין ָדּ ִגים‪.‬‬
‫ָעץ ִשׁנָּיו ְבּ ֶק ֶרשׁ ָרקוּב‪.‬‬
‫ַמ ָלּח ֶא ָחד נ ַ‬
‫ָה ָר ָעב אָיֹם‪.‬‬
‫יע ְלשׁוּם ָמקוֹם‪.‬‬
‫ָה ֳאנִ יָּה לֹא ַתּ ִגּ ַ‬
‫ָה ֳאנִ יָּה ַהזֹּאת‬
‫ִהיא ַדּ ְליָה ָמ ִריָה‬
‫ִהיא ִתּ ְט ַבּע ַהיּוֹם‬
‫טוֹב ַעת ַהיּוֹם‪.‬‬
‫ִהיא ַ‬
‫‪269‬‬
‫מיקי היקר‬
‫יקי‪,‬‬
‫חוֹשׁ ֶבת ָתּ ִמיד ַעל ִמ ִ‬
‫ַבּ ֵלּילוֹת ֲאנִ י ֶ‬
‫ֶח ָמד‪.‬‬
‫וְ ַכ ָמּה ֶשׁהוּא נ ֱ‬
‫ֵך ֵא ַלי ְבּ ֵעינֵי ַה ְתּ ֵכ ֶלת‬
‫יקי ִחיּ ְ‬
‫ִמ ִ‬
‫וְ ִל ִבּי ָע ַמד‪.‬‬
‫ָקר‪.‬‬
‫יקי ַהיּ ָ‬
‫יקי ֶה ָח ִביב‪ִ ,‬מ ִ‬
‫ִמ ִ‬
‫יטן ִבּ ְס ִפינַת ִמ ְל ָח ָמה‪,‬‬
‫ַפּ ַעם ָהיָה ַק ִפּ ָ‬
‫לוֹך וָשׁוב‬
‫נוֹס ַע ָה ְ‬
‫ַבּ ַמּ ְשׁ ֶח ֶתת ָהיָה ֵ‬
‫שׁוֹלים‬
‫ַח ִ‬
‫ַמ ִתּיז נ ְ‬
‫ֵבּין ְכּ ֵר ִתים ִל ְס ָפ ַרד‪.‬‬
‫יקי ֶה ָח ִביב‬
‫ִמ ִ‬
‫הוֹל ְך וְ ָק ֵטן‬
‫ֶע ְשׂ ִרים ָשׁנָה הוּא ֵ‬
‫ַמּד‪.‬‬
‫ֶה ַפּ ְך ְלג ָ‬
‫ִכּ ְמ ַעט נ ְ‬
‫ָקר‪.‬‬
‫יקי ַהיּ ָ‬
‫ִמ ִ‬
‫ִל ְפנֵי ֶע ְשׂ ִרים וְ ָח ֵמשׁ ָשׁנָה‬
‫יקי ַס ַפּן ִמ ְל ָח ָמה‬
‫ָהיָה ִמ ִ‬
‫ָהב ָהיוּ ַעל ַשׁ ְרווּלוֹ‬
‫ַפּ ִסּים ֶשׁל ז ָ‬
‫ַאוָה‬
‫יקי ִמגּ ֲ‬
‫ִכּ ְמ ַעט ִה ְת ַפּ ַקּע ִמ ִ‬
‫שׁוֹתה ְל ָשׁ ְכ ָרה‬
‫ַבּ ֵלּילוֹת ָהיָה ֶ‬
‫שׁוֹלים‪,‬‬
‫ַח ִ‬
‫ֲלה נ ְ‬
‫ָמים ָהיָה ַמע ֶ‬
‫ַבּיּ ִ‬
‫זוֹר ָרה ַה ַמּ ְשׁ ֶח ֶתת ֶשׁלּוֹ‬
‫ָתן ְ‬
‫ְכּמוֹ ִלוְ י ָ‬
‫אַה ָבה‪.‬‬
‫ֵעינָיו ָדּ ְמעוּ ֵמ ֲ‬
‫אַחר ָכּ ְך ַהכֹּל ִה ְשׁ ַתּנָּה‪.‬‬
‫ַ‬
‫וּשׁ ַתּיִ ם ָשׁנָה‬
‫ְכּ ָבר ֶע ְשׂ ִרים ְ‬
‫יבה ֲח ָד ָשׁה‪,‬‬
‫לֹא ָקנָה עֲנִ ָ‬
‫יקי ֵאינוֹ ַמה ֶשּׁ ָהיָה‪,‬‬
‫ִמ ִ‬
‫ָדיר‬
‫ְכּמוֹ ֶשׁ ִה ְב ִריקוּ ֵעינָיו ִבּנְ ַמל ֲאג ִ‬
‫לֹא ִה ְב ִריק ֲא ִפלּוּ ַהיָּם‪.‬‬
‫יקי ֶבּן ֲח ִמ ִשּׁים וְ יֵשׁ לוֹ ְשׁנֵי יְ ָל ִדים‬
‫ַע ְכ ָשׁיו ִמ ִ‬
‫יקי ְג ֵד ִלים ֲא ָבל ֵאין ְבּ ִלבּוֹ ִשׂ ְמ ָחה‪.‬‬
‫ָבּנָיו ֶשׁל ִמ ִ‬
‫יטיבוֹת ִאתּוֹ‪,‬‬
‫חוֹלפוֹת ֵאינָן ֵמ ִ‬
‫ַה ָשּׁנִ ים ַה ְ‬
‫ֵאין הוּא ַמ ְק ִפּיד ַעל ְלבוּשׁוֹ‪.‬‬
‫יתי ְל ָך?‬
‫ָקר‪ָ ,‬מה ָע ִשׂ ִ‬
‫יקי ַהיּ ָ‬
‫ִמ ִ‬
‫ְכּ ֶשׁ ֵעינָיו ַה ְכּ ֻחלּוֹת ִמ ְת ַמ ְלּאוֹת ְדּ ָמעוֹת‬
‫שּׁוֹשׁנִּ ים‬
‫יוֹתר ִמ ַ‬
‫ֵהן זַכּוֹת ֵ‬
‫יוֹתר ִמ ְדּגָנִ יּוֹת‬
‫ֵ‬
‫יוֹתר ִמ ָכּל ָדּ ָבר‪.‬‬
‫ֵ‬
‫‪270‬‬
‫סימנים‬
‫נוֹפ ֶלת‪,‬‬
‫ְכּ ֶשׁ ַהכּוֹס ֶ‬
‫ְר ִסיס נִ ָתּז‪,‬‬
‫וּפ ַסּת נְ יָר נִ ְשׁ ֶמ ֶטת‬
‫ִ‬
‫וּמ ֶשּׁהוּ זָח אוֹ זָז‬
‫ַ‬
‫ֶרת ַהנְּ כוֹנָה‬
‫חוֹרג ִמן ַה ִמּ ְסגּ ֶ‬
‫וּמ ֶשּׁהוּ ֵ‬
‫ַ‬
‫יך ְל ִה ָשּׁ ֵמר ִמזֶּה ְמאֹד‪.‬‬
‫ָצ ִר ְ‬
‫יקה‪,‬‬
‫וּמ ְפ ִס ָ‬
‫כּוֹת ֶבת ַ‬
‫ַע ְכ ָשֹו ֲאנִ י ֶ‬
‫ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ַל ְחשֹׁב‪,‬‬
‫ַדּ ֵפּי נְ יָר ַר ִבּים נִ ְת ְקעוּ ִלי ִבּ ְגרוֹנִ י‪.‬‬
‫לוֹמר‪ְ ,‬כּ ַבר לֹא ֲאנִ י‪.‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י‪ִ ,‬אם ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ָכּ ְך ַ‬
‫פּוֹח ֶתת ִבּ ְמ ִהירוּת‪.‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י ְל ֶמ ְח ָצה‪ֶ ,‬‬
‫יע ָבּ ֲאוִ יר‪ַ .‬ה ַתּ ְבנִ ית ֲח ֵס ָרה‪,‬‬
‫יֵשׁ נִ ַ‬
‫נּוֹפ ֶלת ִבּ ְמ ִהירוּת‪.‬‬
‫אוּלי ֲאנִ י ִהיא ַה ֶ‬
‫ַ‬
‫ַאנִ י ְמ ָס ֶר ֶבת ְל ַה ֲא ִמין‬
‫וֲ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ַמ ָמּשׁ ְמ ָס ֶר ֶבת ִל ְראוֹת‪.‬‬
‫סינדרלה במטבח‬
‫ַה ָשּׁעוֹת ַהטּוֹבוֹת ֶשׁל ִסינְ ֶדּ ֶר ָלה ָע ְברוּ ָשׁם ְל ַמ ָטּה ַבּ ִמּ ְט ָבּח‬
‫ָהיְ ָתה ָלהּ ֵחרוּת ַה ַדּ ַעת‬
‫ֹאמר ֶאת זֶה ָכּ ְך‪.‬‬
‫ִאם נ ַ‬
‫יה‬
‫קּוֹת ָ‬
‫יה ֶאל ַר ֶ‬
‫ָד ָ‬
‫ִהיא ִה ְדּ ָקה ֶאת י ֶ‬
‫יה ָהיוּ ְמכֻסּוֹת ֻשׁ ָמּן‪.‬‬
‫ערוֹת ָ‬
‫ַשׂ ֶ‬
‫ִהיא ִה ְפ ִליגָה ְבּ ַד ְע ָתּהּ ְל ֶמ ְר ַח ִקּים‬
‫ִבּ ְל ִתּי ְמשׁ ָֹע ִרים‬
‫ִבּ ְל ִתּי ֻמ ְס ָבּ ִרים‬
‫ָד ָעה ְבּ ִלי ִלנְ קֹב ִבּ ְשׁ ָמן‪.‬‬
‫ְתּחוּשׁוֹת ֶשׁיּ ְ‬
‫ֶיה ַל ִסּנּוֹר‬
‫ילה ֶאת ֵעינ ָ‬
‫וְ ִהיא ִה ְשׁ ִפּ ָ‬
‫ֻבּב וְ ַה ֻמּ ְכ ָתּם‬
‫ַה ְמר ָ‬
‫ָד ָעה ֵאיזֶה ֶמ ְר ָחק גָּדוֹל יֵשׁ ֵבּין ָה ָכא ְל ָה ָתם‬
‫וְ י ְ‬
‫ִאם ִבּ ְכ ָלל נִ ָתּן ְל ַשׁ ֵער‬
‫וּמה ֶשּׁ ַמּ ְת ִחיל ָכּאן וְ ַע ְכ ָשׁו‬
‫ַ‬
‫ֵאין לוֹ ִסיּוּם ַבּ ְזּ ָמן‬
‫וְ לֹא נְ ֻק ַדּת ְז ָמן‪.‬‬
‫וְ ִהיא ָע ְשׂ ָתה ְס ִב ָ‬
‫יבהּ ִעגּוּל‬
‫ימן‬
‫וְ ִס ְמּנָה ְל ַע ְצ ָמהּ ִס ָ‬
‫מּוּבן‪.‬‬
‫ִדּ ְמיוֹנִ י ַכּ ָ‬
‫יהן‬
‫יטב ִבּ ְג ֵד ֶ‬
‫יוֹצאוֹת ְבּ ֵמ ַ‬
‫וְ ָר ֲא ָתה ֶאת ַה ְשׁ ַתּיִ ם ָה ֵהן ְ‬
‫נוֹטפוֹת ְבּ ָשׂ ִמים‬
‫ֲהדוּרוֹת‪ְ ,‬מפֹאָרוֹת‪ְ ,‬‬
‫נְ טוּיוֹת גָּרוֹן‪.‬‬
‫‪271‬‬
‫קוֹמן‪.‬‬
‫וְ ִהיא לֹא ַמ ָמּשׁ ָר ְצ ָתה ִל ְהיוֹת ִבּ ְמ ַ‬
‫סוֹפיִּ ים ָהיוּ ָלהּ ַבּ ִדּ ְמיוֹן‬
‫אוֹצרוֹת ֵאין‪ִ -‬‬
‫ָ‬
‫סוֹפיִּ ים‬
‫ַמ ָמּשׁ ֵאין‪ִ -‬‬
‫צוּרה‪.‬‬
‫וּללֹא ָ‬
‫ְ‬
‫ָהיְ ָתה ָלהּ ְפּ ַק ַעת ְק ַטנָּה ֶשׁל חֹם ַבּגָּרוֹן‬
‫חוֹלנִ ית‪.‬‬
‫וְ ַה ְלמוּת ֵלב ַעזָּה‪ָ ,‬‬
‫ֻלּם‬
‫וְ ִהיא ָהיְ ָתה ִמחוּץ ְלכ ָ‬
‫קוֹד ַחת‬
‫בּוֹכיָּה‪ַ ,‬‬
‫ִ‬
‫מוּכנָה ְבּ ָכל ֵעת ַל ְחדֹּל ְל ִה ְת ַקיֵּם‪.‬‬
‫ָ‬
‫ָהיְ ָתה ָלהּ נְ ֻק ַדּת ַתּ ְצ ִפּית‬
‫חוּקהּ‬
‫ירה ְבּ ִר ָ‬
‫נְ ִד ָ‬
‫כּוֹכב ַמ ְא ִדּים‬
‫ָשׁ ָבה ַעל ָ‬
‫ְכּ ִאלּוּ י ְ‬
‫כּוֹכב ַה ִמּ ְל ָח ָמה‪.‬‬
‫ַ‬
‫אָמ ָרה‪:‬‬
‫יה וְ ְ‬
‫רוֹפ ָ‬
‫וְ ִהיא ָק ְמ ָצה ֶאת ֶא ְג ֶ‬
‫יוֹצאת ַל ִמּ ְל ָח ָמה‪.‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י ֵ‬
‫אַחר ָכּ ְך נִ ְר ְדּ ָמה‪.‬‬
‫וְ ַ‬
‫עגלה ערופה‬
‫ָה ַל ְך עוֹד ַצ ַעד‬
‫ָה ַל ְך עוֹד ַכּ ָמּה ְצ ָע ִדים‪,‬‬
‫ָפלוּ לוֹ ַה ִמּ ְשׁ ָק ַפיִ ם‬
‫נְ‬
‫ָפ ָלה לוֹ ַה ִכּ ָפּה‪.‬‬
‫נְ‬
‫ָה ַל ְך עוֹד ַצ ַעד‬
‫ָשׁטוּף ְבּ ָדם‪,‬‬
‫מוֹשׁ ְך ַר ְג ַליִ ם‬
‫ֵ‬
‫ֲשׂ ָרה ְצ ָע ִדים‬
‫אַח ֵרי ע ָ‬
‫ֲ‬
‫הוּדי‬
‫ְכּ ָבר לֹא יְ ִ‬
‫ֲר ִבי‪,‬‬
‫לֹא ע ָ‬
‫יל ִאי‪.‬‬
‫ַע ְר ִט ָ‬
‫אוֹתנוּ?‬
‫רוֹצ ִחים ָ‬
‫אַתּם ְ‬
‫ֲקים; ָל ָמּה ֶ‬
‫ָשׁים צוֹע ִ‬
‫הוּמת ֱאל ִֹהים; ֲאנ ִ‬
‫ְמ ַ‬
‫רוֹצ ִצים‬
‫ַא ֵח ִרים ִמ ְת ְ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫ְמ ַמ ֲה ִרים ַלעֲשׂוֹת נְ ָק ָמה‪.‬‬
‫אָרץ‬
‫וְ הוּא ְמ ַח ְר ֵחר ַעל ָה ֶ‬
‫רוּע‪,‬‬
‫גּוּף ָק ַ‬
‫תּוֹך ַה ָבּ ָשׂר‪.‬‬
‫שׁוֹתת ִמ ְ‬
‫וְ ַה ָדּם ֵ‬
‫תּוֹך ַה ָבּ ָשׂר‪.‬‬
‫שׁוֹתת ִמ ְ‬
‫ַה ָדּם ֵ‬
‫הוּא ֵמת פֹּה אוֹ ָשׁם‬
‫ֶשׁנָהּ פֹּה‪.‬‬
‫ִאי ְבּ ִהירוּת י ְ‬
‫יוֹד ִעים?‬
‫ַחנוּ ְ‬
‫ָמה ֲאנ ְ‬
‫נִ ְמ ָצא ָח ָלל ַבּ ָשּׂ ֶדה‪.‬‬
‫‪272‬‬
‫סּוּרים ְמ ָמ ְר ִקים ָעוֹן‪.‬‬
‫אוֹמ ִרים‪ ,‬יִ ִ‬
‫ְ‬
‫פּוֹר ַח‪,‬‬
‫אָבק ֵ‬
‫אָדם ְכּ ָ‬
‫ָ‬
‫אַך ִמי ָה ִאישׁ‬
‫ְ‬
‫ֶשׁ ָכּ ְך ִבּ ְב ִדידוּת‬
‫ָשׁ ַכב ְמ ַע ֵלּ ַע ֶאת ָדּ ָמיו?‬
‫ַמה הוּא ָראָה‬
‫ַמה הוּא ָשׁ ַמע‬
‫הוּמה‬
‫תוך ַה ְמּ ָ‬
‫ְבּ ְ‬
‫ֵמ ָע ָליו?‬
‫אוֹמ ִרים‪,‬‬
‫וְ יֵשׁ ָה ְ‬
‫ַא ָך‬
‫ֲחמוֹר שׂוֹנ ֲ‬
‫ָעזֹב ַתּ ֲעזֹב ִעמּוֹ‪.‬‬
‫ִכּי יִ ָמּ ֵצא ָח ָלל ַבּ ָשּׂ ֶדה‪,‬‬
‫ִכּי יִ ָמּ ֵצא ָח ָלל ָבּ ֲא ָד ָמה‬
‫ֶיך וְ ָשׁ ֲחטוּ ֶע ְג ָלה‬
‫ָצאוּ ְז ֵקנ ָ‬
‫וְ י ְ‬
‫ַחל יְ ַפ ְזּרוּ‪.‬‬
‫וְ ֶאת ֶא ְפ ָרהּ ַבּנּ ַ‬
‫]עומד על הכביש בלילה[‬
‫עוֹמד ַעל ַה ְכּ ִבישׁ ַבּ ַליְ ָלה ָה ִאישׁ ַהזֶּה‬
‫ֵ‬
‫אַבּא ֶשׁ ִלּי‪.‬‬
‫ָמים ָ‬
‫ֶשׁ ָה ָיה ְבּ ֶשׁ ְכּ ָבר ַהי ִ‬
‫ֶשׁת ֵא ָליו ִל ְמקוֹם ָע ְמדוֹ‬
‫ֶבת ֲאנִ י ָלג ֶ‬
‫וְ ַחי ֶ‬
‫כוֹרה ֶשׁלּוֹ‪.‬‬
‫יתי ַה ַבּת ַה ְבּ ָ‬
‫ִמ ְפּנֵי ֶשׁ ֲאנִ י ָהיִ ִ‬
‫ָליל הוּא ֵ‬
‫וּב ָכל ַליְ ָלה ו ֵ‬
‫ְ‬
‫עוֹמד ְל ַבדּוֹ ִבּ ְמקוֹמוֹ‬
‫ירד ִל ְמקוֹמוֹ וְ ָלבוֹא‪.‬‬
‫ֶבת ֵל ֵ‬
‫ַאנִ י ַחיּ ֶ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫ֶבת ֲאנִ י‪.‬‬
‫יתי ִל ְשׁאֹל ֶאת ָה ִאישׁ ַעד ָמ ַתי ַחי ֶ‬
‫וְ ָר ִצ ִ‬
‫ֶבת ֲאנִ י‪.‬‬
‫ָד ְע ִתי זֹאת ֵמרֹאשׁ ֶשׁ ָתּ ִמיד ַחיּ ֶ‬
‫וְ י ַ‬
‫ֶשׁנוֹ ֲח ַשׁשׁ ַס ָכּנָה‬
‫עוֹמד י ְ‬
‫ָבּ ָמּקוֹם ֶשׁהוּא ֵ‬
‫ְכּ ַביּוֹם ֶשׁ ָה ַל ְך ַבּ ְכּ ִבישׁ וְ ָד ְר ָסה אוֹתוֹ ְמכוֹנִ ית‪.‬‬
‫ָת ִתּי בּוֹ ִסי ָמנִ ים‬
‫וְ ַכ ְך ִה ַכּ ְר ִתּי אוֹתוֹ וְ נ ַ‬
‫אַבּא ֶשׁ ִלּי‪.‬‬
‫ֶשׁזֶּה ָה ִאישׁ ַע ְצמוֹ ָהיָה ַפּ ַעם ָ‬
‫אַחת‬
‫אַה ָבה ַ‬
‫וְ הוּא ֵאינוֹ ְמ ַד ֵבּר ִלי ִמ ַלּת ֲ‬
‫אַבּא ֶשׁ ִלּי‬
‫ָמים ָ‬
‫ַל ְמרוֹת ֶשׁ ָהיָה ְבּ ֶשׁ ְכּ ָבר ַהיּ ִ‬
‫כוֹרה ֶשׁלּוֹ‬
‫יתי ַה ַבּת ַה ְבּ ָ‬
‫וְ ַל ְמרוֹת ֶשׁ ֲאנִ י ָהיִ ִ‬
‫אַחת‪.‬‬
‫אַה ָבה ַ‬
‫הוּא ֵאינוֹ יָכוֹל ְל ַד ֵבּר ִלי ִמ ַלּת ֲ‬
‫‪273‬‬
‫פורטרט‬
‫יתהּ‪.‬‬
‫ָמים ַר ִבּים ְבּ ֵב ָ‬
‫יוֹשׁ ֶבת י ִ‬
‫ִהיא ֶ‬
‫קוֹראת ִעתּוֹנִ ים‪.‬‬
‫ִהיא ֵ‬
‫קוֹרא?(‬
‫אַתּה לֹא ֵ‬
‫) ַמה יֵּשׁ‪ָ ,‬‬
‫רוֹצה ַלעֲשׂוֹת‬
‫עוֹשׂה ַמה ֶשּׁ ָהיְ ָתה ָ‬
‫ִהיא ֵאינָהּ ָ‬
‫כּוּבים‪.‬‬
‫יֵשׁ ָלהּ ִע ִ‬
‫רוֹצה וָנִ יל‪ַ ,‬ה ְר ֵבּה וָנִ יל‪,‬‬
‫ִהיא ָ‬
‫ֵתּן ָלהּ וָנִ יל‪.‬‬
‫ַבּח ֶֹרף ַקר ָלהּ‪ַ ,‬קר ָלהּ ַמ ָמּשׁ‬
‫יוֹתר ֵמ ֲא ֶשׁר ַל ֲא ֵח ִרים‪.‬‬
‫ַקר ָלהּ ֵ‬
‫ֲדיִ ן ַקר ָלהּ‪.‬‬
‫יטב ַוע ַ‬
‫ִהיא ִמ ְת ַל ֶבּ ֶשׁת ֵה ֵ‬
‫רוֹצה וָנִ יל‪.‬‬
‫ִהיא ָ‬
‫חוֹשׁב‪.‬‬
‫אַתּה ֵ‬
‫נוֹל ָדה ֶא ְתמוֹל‪ִ ,‬אם זֶה ַמה ֶשּׁ ָ‬
‫ִהיא לֹא ְ‬
‫זֹאת לֹא ַפּ ַעם ִראשׁוֹנָה ֶשׁ ַקּר ָלהּ‪.‬‬
‫לֹא ַפּ ַעם ִראשׁוֹנָה ח ֶֹרף‪.‬‬
‫ָעים‪.‬‬
‫ְבּ ֶע ֶצם גַּם ַה ַקּיִ ץ ֵאינֶנּוּ נ ִ‬
‫רוֹצה‪.‬‬
‫יוֹתר ִמ ַמּה ֶשּׁ ָהיְ ָתה ָ‬
‫קוֹראת ִעתּוֹנִ ים ֵ‬
‫ִהיא ֵ‬
‫ַבּח ֶֹרף ִהיא לֹא ָזזָה ְבּ ִלי ַתנּוּר‪.‬‬
‫נִ ְמאָס ָלהּ ִל ְפ ָע ִמים‪.‬‬
‫ַה ִאם ִהיא ִבּ ְק ָשׁה ִמ ְמּ ָך ַה ְר ֵבּה ְד ָב ִרים?‬
‫תּוֹדה ֶשׁלֹּא‪.‬‬
‫ֶ‬
‫רוֹצה ָונִ יל‪.‬‬
‫ִהיא ָ‬
‫ִאם ִתּ ְר ֶצה ְל ַה ִבּיט ִמ ָקּרוֹב‪ ,‬יֵשׁ ָלהּ ֲח ָצ ִאית ְמ ֻשׁ ֶבּ ֶצת‪.‬‬
‫אוֹה ֶבת ֲח ָצ ִאית ְמ ֻשׁ ֶבּ ֶצת ִכּי זֶה ַע ִלּיז‪.‬‬
‫ִהיא ֶ‬
‫אַתּה ִת ְצ ַחק‪.‬‬
‫יה‪ָ ,‬‬
‫ְל ַה ִבּיט ָע ֶל ָ‬
‫ַהכֹּל ְמג ָֹח ְך ָכּל ָכּ ְך‪.‬‬
‫צוֹח ֶקת ָלזֶה ִל ְפ ָע ִמים‪.‬‬
‫ֲא ִפלּוּ ִהיא ֶ‬
‫ָק ֶשׁה ָלהּ ַבּח ֶֹרף וְ ַרע ָלהּ ַבּ ַקּיִ ץ‪,‬‬
‫אַתּה ִת ְצ ַחק‪.‬‬
‫ָ‬
‫ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִגּיד ִמימוֹזָה‪,‬‬
‫פּוֹרח‪,‬‬
‫עוֹף ֶשׁ ֵאינוֹ ֵ‬
‫ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ַה ִגּיד ַה ְר ֵבּה ְד ָב ִרים‪.‬‬
‫ֶקת‪,‬‬
‫ֶחנ ֶ‬
‫ִהיא ָת ִמיד ִמ ְת ַע ֶטּ ֶפת ְבּ ַמ ֶשּׁהוּ וְ נ ְ‬
‫ָדים‬
‫ִל ְפ ָע ִמים ֲח ָצ ִאית ְמ ֻשׁ ֶבּ ֶצת וְ עוֹד ְבּג ִ‬
‫ִתּ ְשׁאַל‪ָ ,‬ל ָמּה ִהיא ִמ ְת ַע ֶטּ ֶפת ְכּ ֶשׁ ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ֵה ָחנֵק?‬
‫ַה ְדּ ָב ִרים ָה ֵא ֶלּה ְמ ֻס ָבּ ִכים‪.‬‬
‫‪274‬‬
‫זֶה ַהקֹּר ַבּח ֶֹרף וְ ַהחֹם ַה ֻמּ ְפ ָרז ַבּ ַקּיִ ץ‪,‬‬
‫יכים‪.‬‬
‫אַף ַפּ ַעם לֹא ְכּמוֹ ֶשׁ ְצּ ִר ִ‬
‫רוֹצה וָנִ יל‪,‬‬
‫וְ ֶד ֶר ְך אַגַּב‪ ,‬אַל ִתּ ְשׁ ַכּח‪ִ ,‬היא ָ‬
‫בּוֹכה‪.‬‬
‫ַע ְכ ָשׁו ִהיא ֲא ִפלּוּ ָ‬
‫ֵתּן ָלהּ וָנִ יל‪.‬‬
‫פרנסה‬
‫יכה ֵמאָה וְ ֶע ְשׂ ִרים ֶשׁ ֶקל ָח ָדשׁ‪.‬‬
‫ַל ֲעזָאזֵל ַה ִשּׁיר‪ֲ ,‬אנִ י ְצ ִר ָ‬
‫וְ זֹאת ְבּ ִע ְקּבוֹת ַמה ֶשּׁ ָשׁ ַמ ְע ִתּי ִמ ֵמּ ְך‬
‫אוֹת ְך‪,‬‬
‫וְ ָשׁ ַמ ְע ִתּי ָ‬
‫אוֹת ְך‪.‬‬
‫אוֹת ֱך וְ ָ‬
‫אוֹת ְך וְ ָ‬
‫וְ ָשׁ ַמ ְע ִתּי ָ‬
‫יצה‬
‫ְל ֵשׁם ְמ ִל ָ‬
‫אוֹמ ִרים ַעל ַהיָּם ֶשׁ ֵאינֶנּוּ נָח‪.‬‬
‫ְ‬
‫יעה‬
‫ֲאנִ י ֶאל ַה ָיּם לֹא ַמ ִגּ ָ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ִמ ְשׂ ָתּ ֶר ֶכת ַעל ִמ ְד ָר ָכה‬
‫ָחה‬
‫נוּחה וְ ִלי ֵאין ְרו ָ‬
‫וְ ָל ְך ֵאין ְמ ָ‬
‫ֻקּמוֹת‬
‫המּ ְר ָצפוֹת ְמע ָ‬
‫וְ ִ‬
‫לוֹמר‪,‬‬
‫וְ זֶה ַרק ַה ְמ ַעט ֶשׁיֵּשׁ ִלי ַ‬
‫שׁוֹת ֶקת ָשׁנִ ים‬
‫וּב ֶע ֶצם ֲאנִ י ֶ‬
‫ְ‬
‫אוֹמ ֶרת שׁוּם ָדּ ָבר‪,‬‬
‫וְ ֵאינֶנִּ י ֶ‬
‫ַתּ ֶרת ְבּ ַקלּוּת‬
‫וּע ָהאוֹר ֲאנִ י ְמו ֶ‬
‫וְ ַעל ָכּל ַה ִתּ ְפ ֶא ֶרת וְ ִרקּ ַ‬
‫זוֹכ ֶרת‪,‬‬
‫ִכּ ְמ ַעט ֶשׁ ֵאינֶנִּ י ֶ‬
‫יקה‬
‫וְ זֹאת ֶבּ ֱא ֶמת ְבּ ָעיָה ְמ ִצ ָ‬
‫אַח ֶרת‪.‬‬
‫וּמ ְבּ ִחינָה ֶ‬
‫ֲשׂית ִ‬
‫ִמ ְבּ ִחינָה ַמע ִ‬
‫יוֹתר‬
‫אָמ ְר ִתּי ֵאינוֹ ֵ‬
‫וְ ָכל ַמה ֶשּׁ ַ‬
‫כּוּח גָּרוֹן‬
‫טוּפה וְ ִכּ ְח ַ‬
‫יחה ֲח ָ‬
‫ִמ ְגּנִ ָ‬
‫כּי ַל ֲעזָאזֵל ַה ִשּׁיר וְ ָכל ֲא ֶשׁר בּוֹ‪,‬‬
‫יכה ֵמאָה וְ ֶע ְשׂ ִרים ֶשׁ ֶקל ָח ָדשׁ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ְצ ִר ָ‬
‫אַחרוֹן‪.‬‬
‫ְבּ ֶח ְשׁבּוֹן ֲ‬
‫רחיפה בגובה נמוך‬
‫ֲאנִ י לֹא ָכּאן‪.‬‬
‫יקי ָה ִרים ִמ ְז ָר ִחיִּ ים‬
‫ֲאנִ י ַעל נְ ִק ֵ‬
‫ֻמּ ִרים ִפּסּוֹת ֶשׁל ֶק ַרח‬
‫ְמנ ָ‬
‫ְבּ ָמקוֹם ֶשׁ ֵע ֶשׂב לֹא ָצ ַמח‬
‫וְ ֵצל ָר ָחב נָטוּשׁ ַעל ַהמּוֹ ָרד‪.‬‬
‫רוֹעה ְק ַטנָּה ִעם צֹאן ִע ִזּים‬
‫ָ‬
‫ְשׁחוֹרוֹת‬
‫יחה ָשׁם‬
‫ֵה ִג ָ‬
‫ֵמא ֶֹהל לֹא נִ ְר ֶאה‪.‬‬
‫ַל ָדּה ַהזֹּאת‬
‫יוֹמהּ ַהיּ ְ‬
‫תוֹציא ֶאת ָ‬
‫לֹא ִ‬
‫ַבּ ִמּ ְר ֶעה‪.‬‬
‫‪275‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י לֹא ָכּאן‪.‬‬
‫ְבּל ַֹע ַהר ָפּ ַרח ַכּדּוּר אָדֹם‪,‬‬
‫ֲדיִ ן לֹא ַח ָמּה‪.‬‬
‫עַ‬
‫חוֹלנִ ית‬
‫מוּקה וְ ָ‬
‫ַבּ ֶה ֶרת ְכּפוֹר ְס ָ‬
‫ִמ ְת ַה ֶפּ ֶכת ַבּלּ ַֹע‪.‬‬
‫ימה כֹּה ָלקוּם ֶאל ַה ִמּ ְר ֶעה‬
‫וְ ַה ְקּ ַטנָּה ִה ְשׁ ִכּ ָ‬
‫ְגּרוֹנָהּ ֵאינוֹ נָטוּי‬
‫פּוּך‪ ,‬לֹא ְמ ַשׂ ְקּרוֹת‬
‫ֵעינ ָ‬
‫ֶיה לֹא ְקרוּעוֹת ַבּ ְ‬
‫שׁוֹא ֶלת‪ֵ ,‬מאַיִ ן יָבוֹא ֶע ְז ִרי‪.‬‬
‫ֵאינָהּ ֶ‬
‫ֲאנִ י לֹא ָכּאן‪.‬‬
‫ָמים ַר ִבּים‬
‫ֲאנִ י ְכּ ָבר ֶבּ ָה ִרים י ִ‬
‫ָהאוֹר לֹא יִ ְצ ְר ֵבנִ י ַה ְכּפוֹר ִבּי לֹא יִ גַּע‪.‬‬
‫שׁוּב ֵאין ִלי ַמה ִלּ ְלקוֹת ְבּ ַת ְד ֵה ָמה‪.‬‬
‫יתי ְבּ ַחיַּי‪.‬‬
‫רוּעים ֵמ ֵא ֶלּה ָר ִא ִ‬
‫ְדּ ָב ִרים ְגּ ִ‬
‫וּמ ַר ֶח ֶפת‬
‫אוֹס ֶפת ִשׂ ְמ ָל ִתי ְ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ֶ‬
‫מוּך ְמאֹד ֶאל ַה ַקּ ְר ַקע‪.‬‬
‫ָס ְ‬
‫ַל ָדּה ַהזֹּאת?‬
‫ַמה ִהיא ָח ְשׁ ָבה ָלהּ ַהיּ ְ‬
‫חוּצה‬
‫ְפּ ָר ִאית ְל ַמ ְר ֶאה‪ ,‬לֹא ְר ָ‬
‫יעה‪.‬‬
‫תּוֹפ ֶפת ִבּ ְכ ִר ָ‬
‫ְל ֶרגַע ִמ ְשׁ ֶ‬
‫ֶיה ַרכּוֹת ְכּ ֶמ ִשׁי‬
‫ְל ָחי ָ‬
‫ָדהּ‪.‬‬
‫ִפּ ְצ ֵעי קֹר ַעל גַּב י ָ‬
‫זוּרת ַדּ ַעת‪ִ ,‬כּ ְביָכוֹל‬
‫ְפּ ַ‬
‫שּׁוּבה‪ַ ,‬ל ֲא ִמתּוֹ ֶשׁל ָדּ ָבר‪.‬‬
‫ַק ָ‬
‫נוֹתרוּ ָלהּ ָכּ ְך וְ ָכ ְך ָשׁעוֹת‪.‬‬
‫וְ עוֹד ְ‬
‫יתי‪.‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י לֹא ָבּ ִענְ יָן ַהזֶּה ָה ִג ִ‬
‫מוֹך‬
‫ידה ֶשׁל ְ‬
‫בוֹתי ִר ְפּדוּנִ י ִבּ ְר ִפ ָ‬
‫ַמ ְח ְשׁ ַ‬
‫שׁוּטה ְמאֹד‪,‬‬
‫יטה ְפּ ָ‬
‫אתי ִלי ִשׁ ָ‬
‫ָמ ָצ ִ‬
‫לֹא ִמ ְד ַר ְך ַכּף ֶרגֶל וְ לֹא ָמעוֹף‪.‬‬
‫ָמוּך‪.‬‬
‫ְר ִח ָ‬
‫יפה ְבּג ַֹבהּ נ ְ‬
‫ֲא ָבל ִבּנְ טוֹת ָצ ֲה ַריִ ם‬
‫ָשׁעוֹת ַרבּוֹת‬
‫יחה‬
‫אַחר ַה ְזּ ִר ָ‬
‫ְל ַ‬
‫ָע ָלה ָה ִאישׁ ַההוּא ָבּ ָהר‬
‫ִכֹ ְמ ַט ֵפּס ְל ִפי ֻתמוֹ‪.‬‬
‫רוֹבה ֵא ָליו ְמאֹד‬
‫ַל ָדּה ְק ָ‬
‫וְ ַהיּ ְ‬
‫זוּל ָתם‪.‬‬
‫וְ ֵאין ִאישׁ ָ‬
‫ֲקה‬
‫וְ ִאם נִ ְסּ ָתה ְל ִה ְת ַח ֵבּא אוֹ ָצע ָ‬
‫ֵאין ִמ ְסתּוֹר ֶבּ ָה ִרים‪.‬‬
‫‪276‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י לֹא ָכּאן‬
‫ֻמּים‬
‫ַאי ִ‬
‫רוּעים ו ֲ‬
‫ֻכ ֵסי ָה ִרים ְפּ ִ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ֵמ ַעל ר ְ‬
‫ְבּ ַפ ֲא ֵתי ִמ ְז ָרח‪.‬‬
‫יכים ְל ִה ְת ַע ֵכּב ָע ָליו‪.‬‬
‫ִענְ יָן ֶשׁ ֵאין ְצ ִר ִ‬
‫יפה‬
‫וּב ְר ִח ָ‬
‫ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְבּ ַט ְל ֵט ָלה ַעזָּה ִ‬
‫רוּח‪.‬‬
‫ָלחוּג ִבּ ְמ ִהירוּת ָה ַ‬
‫וּל ַד ֵבּר ַעל ֵלב ַע ְצ ִמי‪:‬‬
‫ֶא ְפ ָשׁר ְל ִה ְס ַתּ ֵלּק ְ‬
‫יתי‪.‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י ָד ָבר לֹא ָר ִא ִ‬
‫יהן‬
‫חוֹר ֶ‬
‫ֶיה ַרק ָח ְרגוּ ֵמ ֵ‬
‫וְ ַה ְקּ ַטנָּה ֵעינ ָ‬
‫ָבשׁ ַכּ ֶח ֶרס‪,‬‬
‫ִח ָכּה י ֵ‬
‫אָחזָה ָבּהּ‬
‫ְכּ ֶשׁיָּד ָק ָשׁה ָל ְפ ָתה ֶאת ְשׂ ָע ָרהּ וְ ֲ‬
‫ְללּא ֻק ְרטוֹב ֶח ְמ ָלה‪.‬‬
‫שאון המים‬
‫ַעת‬
‫ִצפּוֹר ִציְּ ָצה ִכּ ְמ ֻשׁגּ ַ‬
‫ַעד ֶא ֶפס כּ ָֹחהּ‬
‫אַחר ָבּ ְכ ָתה;‬
‫וְ ַ‬
‫ֲאנִ י ָשׁ ַק ְע ִתּי ְבּ ָענָן ֶשׁל נ ַֹעם‪,‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י ָשׁ ַק ְע ִתּי‬
‫מוּגוֹתי‪.‬‬
‫ִ‬
‫ַאנִ י נְ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫אוֹקיָנוֹס ֻט ַבּ ְע ִתּי‬
‫לֹא‪ִ ,‬כּי ֶאל ָה ְ‬
‫אוֹתי ִאישׁ‬
‫אָהב ִ‬
‫ָשׁם ַ‬
‫הוֹתיר ִלי ִצפּ ֶֹרן‪.‬‬
‫לֹא ִ‬
‫ֲרוֹתי‪,‬‬
‫אָחזָה ְבּ ַשׂע ַ‬
‫יָדוֹ ֲ‬
‫אוֹקיָנוֹס‬
‫ְבּ ַה ְלמוּת ָה ְ‬
‫ִח ַשּׁ ְב ִתּי ִה ָשּׁ ֵבר‪.‬‬
‫ֲרוֹתי‬
‫יָדוֹ ָמ ְשׁ ָכה ְבּ ַשׂע ַ‬
‫אוֹקיָנוֹס‬
‫ילי ָה ְ‬
‫ִבּנְ ִח ֵ‬
‫שׁוּב ְמאוּם לֹא ֶא ְזכֹּר‪.‬‬
‫שברון לב בגן‬
‫וֹר ַח‪,‬‬
‫ארק ַהזּ ֵ‬
‫ְבּ ַהיְ ד ַפּ ְ‬
‫מוּל ַשׁ ַער ָה ֶא ֶבן ַה ַחם‪,‬‬
‫וּז ֵקנִ ים‬
‫ָהיוּ ִא ָמּהוֹת ַרבּוֹת ְ‬
‫נוֹג ִעים‪.‬‬
‫ָצ ִפים ִמנּ ְֶג ִדּי וְ ֵאינָם ְ‬
‫ַדּ ְר ַדּ ִקּים ֶשׁ ָבּ ְרחוּ ִמ ֵבּית‪ִ -‬ס ְפ ָרם‬
‫ִה ְקנִ יטוּ ֶאת ַבּ ְרוְ זֵי ַה ַמּיִ ם‪.‬‬
‫תוֹך ָה ֲאגַם‪,‬‬
‫ֶכּ ֶלב ָפּ ַרץ ְל ְ‬
‫וּק ַהל ָהעוֹפוֹת נִ ְמ ְלטוּ ְבּ ַת ְרעֹ ֶמת‪.‬‬
‫ְ‬
‫ָפשׁוּ ַעל ִכּ ְסאוֹת‪ַ -‬ה ָבּד‪.‬‬
‫ְז ֵקנִ ים נ ְ‬
‫ַשׂ ְמ ִתּי ִל ִבּי ְל ָה ִבין‬
‫עוֹלם‪.‬‬
‫אָבד ְל ָ‬
‫הוֹל ְך ְל ָשׁ ָעה ְכּ ִאלּוּ ַ‬
‫ֶשׁ ָכּל ַה ֵ‬
‫‪277‬‬
‫יח וָנִ יל‪.‬‬
‫ִממּוּל‪ַ ,‬בּ ָקּ ֶפה ֶה ָענֹג‪ ,‬נָפוֹץ ֵר ַ‬
‫יהם‪.‬‬
‫אָספוּ ֶאת ְמ ִעיל נְ ֵשׁ ֶ‬
‫ימים ְ‬
‫ְגּ ָב ִרים נְ ִע ִ‬
‫יב ַריו ַעל ַה ֶדּ ֶשׁא‪,‬‬
‫טוּדנְ ט ֵמ ָע ֵרי ַה ָשּׂ ֶדה ָשׁ ַטח ֵא ָ‬
‫ְס ֶ‬
‫מוֹלל ֲענָנִ ים‪.‬‬
‫ָתן ֵעינָיו ַבּ ָשּׁ ַמיִ ם וְ ָהיָה ְמ ֵ‬
‫נַ‬
‫ֲהמוֹנִ ים ַס ְסגּוֹנִ ים ִפּ ְזּזוּ ַעל ַה ַמּ ְד ֵרגוֹת‪.‬‬
‫ֻמים‪.‬‬
‫ילים ֲאד ִ‬
‫אוֹטוֹבּוּסים ָהיוּ ְמ ַד ִדּים ְכּ ֵע ֶדר ִפּ ִ‬
‫ִ‬
‫ָכּל ֵא ֶלּה ָשׁ ְברוּ ֶאת ִל ִבּי‪,‬‬
‫ֶע ְתּקוּ ִמ ִלּים‪.‬‬
‫ִמ ִפי נ ְ‬
‫שׁוֹטט ְבּ ֵאין ַמ ְכ ִלים‪,‬‬
‫ָד ְע ִתּי ֶשׁיֵּשׁ ִלי ְרשׁוֹת ְל ֵ‬
‫יַ‬
‫לֹא ַה ְר ֵחק ִמ ָשּׁם ָהיָה גַן ַה ִסּירוֹת ַה ֵשּׁנִ י‪,‬‬
‫סוּלים‪.‬‬
‫יּוּצים וְ ִס ְל ִ‬
‫ַהמוֹן ִצ ִ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫ינוֹתי ַעד ַכּ ָמּה ִל ִבּי נִ ְצ ָבּט ִמן ַהחֹם‪,‬‬
‫לֹא ֲה ִב ִ‬
‫ָח ַשׁ ְב ִתּי ַעל ַהוְּ ָר ִדים וְ ַעל ִצ ְב ָעם ַה ָכּתֹם‪,‬‬
‫יוֹתר ִמן ַהוְּ ָר ִדים‪.‬‬
‫ָפה ֵ‬
‫לֹא ָהיָה ָד ָבר י ֶ‬
‫ְבּ ִס ְד ֵקי ַה ְמּשׂוּכוֹת ַה ַדּקוֹת ָר ַבץ ַהחֹם ְכּ ַע ְר ָפּד‬
‫זֶה ָשׁ ַבר ֶאת ִל ִבּי ָכּל‪ָ -‬כּ ְך‪,‬‬
‫זֶה ָשׁ ַבר ֶאת ִל ִבּי‪.‬‬
‫פּוֹר ַחת‪.‬‬
‫מוּגוֹתי ְכּ ִז ְמזוּם ִצ ְר ָעה ַ‬
‫ִ‬
‫ַעד ְמ ֵה ָרה נְ‬
‫שונרה‬
‫ֻדּה ְכּעוּגַת ַמ ֲא ָכל;‬
‫שׁוּנְ ָרה ָהיְ ָתה ְל ָבנָה וּוְ ר ָ‬
‫מוֹס ְק ָבה‪,‬‬
‫ִהיא ָהיְ ָתה ְבּלוֹנְ דוֹן‪ִ ,‬היא ָהיְ ָתה ְבּ ְ‬
‫דוֹמים ְל ַשׁ ָבּת‬
‫ָמים ֶשׁ ָלּהּ ָהיוּ ִ‬
‫ָכּל ַהיּ ִ‬
‫ָתהּ ָפּ ְר ָחה ִמיּוֹם ְליוֹם‪.‬‬
‫ִעם ַה ְר ֵבּה ֲענָנִ ים‪ֲ ,‬א ָבל ִגּנּ ָ‬
‫כוּכית‪.‬‬
‫ֶשׁם ָדּ ַלף ַה ַבּיִ ת ִמתּוֹך גַּג ֶשׁל ְז ִ‬
‫ְבּ ֶר ֶדת ַהגּ ֶ‬
‫ישׁהוּ ִח ָכּה ָלהּ‪.‬‬
‫וּמ ֶ‬
‫ִהיא נִ ְגּ ָשׁה ַל ַחלּוֹן ִ‬
‫הוּא ָק ָרא ִמ ְכ ָתּב ֲא ָבל ִהיא ִבּ ְל ְבּ ָלה ֶאת ַדּ ְעתּוֹ‪.‬‬
‫אוֹתהּ ְכּעוּגַת ַמ ֲא ָכל‪.‬‬
‫אָז ִהנִּ יחוֹ וְ נִ ֵשּׁק ָ‬
‫זֶה ָהיָה ַבּבּ ֶֹקר ְבּ ָשׁ ָעה ְמ ֻא ֶח ֶרת‬
‫וְ הוּא ִמ ְצ ֵמץ ִבּ ְשׂ ָפ ָתיו ָכּל ַהיּוֹם‪ָ ,‬כּל ַהיּוֹם‪.‬‬
‫יה וְ ָהיְ ָתה ְמ ַל ֶקּ ֶקת עוּגַת וָנִ יל‪.‬‬
‫יחה ַמ ִפּית ַעל ִבּ ְר ֶכּ ָ‬
‫שׁוּנְ ָרה ִהנִּ ָ‬
‫‪278‬‬
‫שיר חצות ‪1970‬‬
‫קּוֹדמוֹת‪,‬‬
‫שׁוּב ְכּמוֹ ַבּ ָשּׁנִ ים ַה ְ‬
‫פוּך‪,‬‬
‫ֲח ַדר ַה ֵשּׁנָה ָה ְ‬
‫וְ ֵא ֶפר ְבּ ָכל ַה ְמּקוֹמוֹת‪.‬‬
‫ֲר ָמה‪,‬‬
‫ָדים ֻמ ָטּ ִלים ַבּע ֵ‬
‫וּבג ִ‬
‫ְ‬
‫וְ גַל ִמ ְכ ָתּ ִבים ֶשׁלֹּא ַנעֲנוּ‬
‫וּמ ָטּה אַ ַחת ַח ָמּה‪.‬‬
‫ִ‬
‫וְ ָ‬
‫ֵפת ַשׁ ַפּ ַעת‬
‫נוֹסף ָלזֶה יֵשׁ ַע ְכ ָשׁו ַמגּ ַ‬
‫חוֹלה ְבּ ָכל ַה ָכּבוֹד‪.‬‬
‫ַאנִ י ָ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫ַבּ ָשּׁנָה ַהזֹּאת‬
‫וּב ָכל ַה ָשּׁנִ ים ַה ָבּאוֹת‬
‫ְ‬
‫אַחת‬
‫ַתּר ַעל ִצפּוֹר ְק ַטנָּה ַ‬
‫אַס ִכּים ְלו ֵ‬
‫לֹא ְ‬
‫ֶשׁ ָע ָפה ְבּגַנִּ י‪,‬‬
‫יפת‪.‬‬
‫דוּכ ַ‬
‫אָמיר ִצפּוֹר ְק ַטנָּה ְבּיוֹנָה אוֹ ְבּ ִ‬
‫וְ לֹא ִ‬
‫וְ עוֹד ָשׁנָה ָתּבוֹא‬
‫וְ שׁוּב ְכּמוֹ ָתּ ִמיד‬
‫אַה ָבה‪.‬‬
‫ְגּרוֹנִ י ָחנוּק ֵמ ֲ‬
‫שיר של הסברים‬
‫יּוֹד ִעים ֶל ֱאהֹב‬
‫ָשׁים ֶשׁ ְ‬
‫יֵשׁ ֲאנ ִ‬
‫ָשׁים ֶשׁזֶּה לֹא ַמ ְת ִאים ָל ֶהם‪.‬‬
‫וְ יֵשׁ ֲאנ ִ‬
‫ַשּׁ ִקים ָבּ ְרחוֹב‬
‫ָשׁים ֶשׁ ִמּ ְתנ ְ‬
‫יֵשׁ ֲאנ ִ‬
‫וְ יֵשׁ ֲא ֵח ִרים ֶשׁזֶּה לֹא ָנ ִעים ָל ֶהם‪,‬‬
‫וְ לֹא ַרק ָבּ ְרחוֹב‪.‬‬
‫חוֹשׁ ֶבת ֶשׁזֶּה ִכּ ְשׁרוֹן ְכּמוֹ ָכּל ַה ִכּ ְשׁרוֹנוֹת‪,‬‬
‫ֲאנִ י ֶ‬
‫אוּלי זֶה יִ ְתרוֹן‪,‬‬
‫ַ‬
‫ְכּמוֹ ֲח ַב ֶצּ ֶלת ַה ָשּׁרוֹן‬
‫יּוֹד ַעת ִל ְפר ַֹח‪,‬‬
‫ֶשׁ ַ‬
‫ֲמ ִקים‬
‫שׁוֹשׁנָּה ָבּע ָ‬
‫ְכּמוֹ ַ‬
‫יה‪.‬‬
‫בּוֹח ֶרת ְל ַע ְצ ָמהּ ֶאת ְצ ָב ֶע ָ‬
‫ֶשׁ ֶ‬
‫יוֹד ַע‬
‫אַתּה ֵ‬
‫ָ‬
‫שׁוֹשׁן ו ֲ‬
‫ָ‬
‫פּוֹר ִחים‬
‫ַח ַב ֶצּ ֶלת ְכּ ֶשׁ ֵהם ְ‬
‫ֵרים‪.‬‬
‫אוֹת ָך ַבּ ַסּנְ ו ִ‬
‫ַמ ִכּים ְ‬
‫אוֹמ ֶרת זֹאת ְכּ ֵדי ְל ַביֵּשׁ‪,‬‬
‫ֵאינֶנִּ י ֶ‬
‫ָדוּע ִלי ֶשׁיֵּשׁ גַּם ֲא ֵח ִרים‪.‬‬
‫י ַ‬
‫ֳרים‬
‫יוֹנְ ֵקי ַה ְדּ ַבשׁ ֵהן ַהיָּפוֹת ַבּ ִצּפּ ִ‬
‫ֲמי‪,‬‬
‫ְל ַטע ִ‬
‫ַר ִזיר‪.‬‬
‫נּוֹח לוֹ י ֵ‬
‫אַך ִמי ֶשׁ ַ‬
‫ְ‬
‫ֵל ְך ֶאל ַהזּ ְ‬
‫וּמ ַס ֶפּ ֶרת ְל ַע ְצ ִמי‪,‬‬
‫ֶרת ְ‬
‫ִעם זֹאת ֲאנִ י חוֹז ֶ‬
‫ַר ִזיר ָמ ְתנַיִ ם‪,‬‬
‫זְ‬
‫אַיִ ל ְמ ֻשׁ ָלּשׁ‪,‬‬
‫‪279‬‬
‫פּוּח ֶשׁ ֵאינֶנּוּ ַמ ְא ִדּים‪,‬‬
‫ַתּ ַ‬
‫זֶה לֹא ֲאנִ י‪.‬‬
‫שכרה‬
‫ֻמּה‬
‫ָדי ַמ ֶשּׂגֶת ֶאת ַה ִשּׂ ְמ ָלה ָה ֲאד ָ‬
‫לוּ ָהיְ ָתה י ִ‬
‫ָקר ְמאֹד‪,‬‬
‫ירהּ י ָ‬
‫ֶשׁ ְמּ ִח ָ‬
‫וְ לוּ ָהיָה ִלי ע ֶֹפר ְמ ַד ֵלּג ַעל ָה ָר ָמה‬
‫ְמ ַק ֵפּץ ַעל ַה ְגּ ָבעוֹת‪-‬‬
‫ָהיִ ינוּ נִ ְת ִלים ְבּגַגּוֹת ַה ָבּ ִתּים‬
‫וְ ָהיִ ינוּ ְ‬
‫קוֹשׁ ִרים ֶאת ַכּנְ ֵפי ָהרוּחוֹת‬
‫וּמ ְס ַתּ ְבּכוֹת‪-‬‬
‫ַעד ֶשׁ ָהיוּ ִמ ְס ַתּ ְבּכוֹת ִ‬
‫חוּטים‪.‬‬
‫ְכּמוֹ ְפּ ַק ַעת ֶשׁל ִ‬
‫וּבוֹרחוֹת‪-‬‬
‫ְ‬
‫יהן‬
‫ַשּׁמוֹת ַעל ִפּ ֶ‬
‫וְ ֵהן ִמ ְתנ ְ‬
‫בוּרה‬
‫ֵצא ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ ִבּ ְג ָ‬
‫ַעד ֶשׁיּ ֵ‬
‫נוֹדד ְבּרֹב כֹּחוֹ‪.‬‬
‫ִמ ְת ֵ‬
‫ַשׁ ִל ְ‬
‫וְ י ְ‬
‫רוּרים‬
‫יך ִלי ֵמ ַעל ֻשׁ ְל ָחנוֹ ֵפּ ִ‬
‫ֻמּה‪,‬‬
‫ֲרים ַעל ַה ִשּׂ ְמ ָלה ָה ֲאד ָ‬
‫ֶשׁיִ ְהיוּ בּוֹע ִ‬
‫תּוֹלל ִבּי ְבּקוֹל נְ ָה ָמה‬
‫וְ יָשׁוּב יִ ְס ֵ‬
‫ֵח ְבּ ַק ְרנָיו‬
‫וִ י ַנגּ ַ‬
‫ָרים‪.‬‬
‫ְכּ ֶצ ֶמד ְשׁו ִ‬
‫יחים יִ ְהיוּ ִ‬
‫וּמ ַצ ְל ְצ ִלים‬
‫הוֹמים ְ‬
‫ֲלי ַה ִשּׂ ִ‬
‫ַוע ֵ‬
‫ָהב‬
‫ִכּ ְמ ַטר ַמ ְט ְבּעוֹת ז ָ‬
‫ַבּיט ִבּי ְמא ָֹהב‬
‫ַבּיט וְ יִ ְר ֶאה וְ י ִ‬
‫וְ י ִ‬
‫ָלים‪.‬‬
‫דוֹדי ִל ְצ ִבי אוֹ ְלע ֶֹפר אַי ִ‬
‫ְדּ ֵמה ְל ָך ִ‬
‫שני איים לניו‪-‬זילנד‬
‫יקה לֹא ְכּ ַדאי ַע ְכ ָשׁו ִלנְ ס ַֹע‬
‫אַפ ִר ָ‬
‫ְל ְ‬
‫נוֹשׁי ֵאינוֹ עוֹ ֵמד ָבּזֶה‪.‬‬
‫ַמגֵּפוֹת‪ָ ,‬ר ָעב‪ַ ,‬הגּוּף ָה ֱא ִ‬
‫גּוֹלים‪.‬‬
‫יפים ְבּ ַפ ְר ִ‬
‫ָשׁים ֵהם ַמ ְצ ִל ִ‬
‫ָריּוּת‪ַ .‬בּ ֲאנ ִ‬
‫אַכז ִ‬
‫ְ‬
‫אַסיָה ְד ָב ִרים ְמ ַס ְמּ ֵרי ֵשׂ ָער‪,‬‬
‫ְבּ ְ‬
‫כוּדים ֶבּ ָה ִרים‪.‬‬
‫כוּדים ַבּ ִבּצּוֹת‪ְ ,‬ל ִ‬
‫ְל ִ‬
‫עוֹמד ָבּזֶה‬
‫נוֹשׁי ֵאינוֹ ֵ‬
‫ַהגּוּף ָה ֲא ִ‬
‫יקים‪.‬‬
‫ֵאין לוֹ כֹּחוֹת ִחיּוּת ַמ ְס ִפּ ִ‬
‫יצנִ י‬
‫ַר ִבּ ֵ‬
‫ַאנִ י ַעל נְ אוֹת ֶדּ ֶשׁא י ְ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫ילנְ ד‪.‬‬
‫ִבּנְ יוּ ִז ַ‬
‫‪280‬‬
‫ָשׁם ְכּ ָב ִשׂים ִעם ֶצ ֶמר ַר ְך‬
‫ַר ְך ִמ ָכּל ֶצ ֶמר‬
‫רוֹעוֹת ַבּ ָדּ ֶשׁא‪.‬‬
‫נוֹה ִגים ָשׁם ֶאת ַהצֹּאן‪,‬‬
‫ָשׁים יִ ְשׁ ֵרי ֵלב ֲ‬
‫ֲאנ ִ‬
‫ֵסיָּה‬
‫ְבּיוֹם ִראשׁוֹן ֵהם ְמ ַב ְקּ ִרים ַבּ ְכּנ ִ‬
‫בוּשׁים ְבּ ַט ַעם ָשׁ ֵקט‪.‬‬
‫ְל ִ‬
‫ְכּ ָבר ֵאין עוֹד ַט ַעם ְל ַה ְס ִתּיר‬
‫ָפה‬
‫ַחנוּ נִ ָסּיוֹן ֶשׁלֹּא ָע ָלה י ֶ‬
‫ֲאנ ְ‬
‫ָתּ ְכנִ ית ֶשׁנִּ ְשׁ ַתּ ְבּ ָשׁה‪,‬‬
‫רוּכה ְבּ ַר ְצ ָחנוּת ַר ָבּה ִמ ַדּי‪,‬‬
‫ְכּ ָ‬
‫וּמה ִלּי ֵמ ֵא ֶלּה‬
‫ַמה ִלּי ֵמ ֵא ֶלּה ַ‬
‫ְ‬
‫צוֹר ִחים ַעד ְלגָרוֹן נִ ָחר‬
‫ֲרה‪.‬‬
‫וּמ ַפ ְצּ ִלים ֻח ָדּהּ ֶשׁל ַשׂע ָ‬
‫ְ‬
‫ִמ ָכּל ָמקוֹם ַר ְצ ָחנוּת ַר ָבּה ִמ ַדּי‪.‬‬
‫יקה לֹא ֶא ַסּע‬
‫אַפ ִר ָ‬
‫ְל ְ‬
‫אַסיָה‬
‫וְ לֹא ְל ְ‬
‫וְ לֹא ֶא ַסּע ִבּ ְכ ָלל‪.‬‬
‫ילנְ ד‬
‫ִבּנְ יוּ ִז ַ‬
‫ָמיִ ם‬
‫ַעל נְ אוֹת ֶדּ ֶשׁא ו ַ‬
‫ֲאנ ִ‬
‫טוֹבי ֵלב‬
‫ָשׁים ֵ‬
‫יִ ְפ ְרסוּ ִלי ִמ ַלּ ְח ָמם‪.‬‬
‫תפילת אשכבה לאחר שבע‪-‬עשרה שנה‬
‫קוֹרא ִפּ ְר ֵקי ְת ִה ִלּים‪.‬‬
‫ַה ַחזָּן ָהיָה ֵ‬
‫חוֹרים‪.‬‬
‫ֹהנִ ים ְשׁ ִ‬
‫ֲדת כּ ֲ‬
‫ָה ֵע ִצים ָל ֲחשׁוּ ַכּע ַ‬
‫בוֹהים ַה ְר ֵבּה ֵמ ַעל ְפּנֵי ַה ַמּ ֵצּבוֹת‬
‫לֹא ָהיִ ינוּ ְג ִ‬
‫ָמינּו ְת ִחיַּת ַה ֵמּ ִתים‪.‬‬
‫ָד ְענוּ ֶשׁלֹּא ִת ְהיֶה ְבּי ֵ‬
‫וְ י ַ‬
‫ָה ְלאָה ָהיָה נִ ָצּב ַה ֻסּ ָלּם‬
‫ִמ ָשּׁם ו ָ‬
‫יבם ְכּ ֶע ֶצם ַה ַסּ ִפּיר‬
‫הוֹרים‪ֶ ,‬שׁ ִטּ ָ‬
‫וּט ִ‬
‫דוֹשׁים ְ‬
‫ְל ַמעֲלוֹת ְק ִ‬
‫לוֹתינוּ(‪,‬‬
‫ָחים ְל ַמ ְר ְגּ ֵ‬
‫ֻבּם ָהיוּ נ ִ‬
‫)ר ָ‬
‫וְ ַחיֵּינוּ ָהיוּ ְכּ ָח ִסיל ִבּ ְגבוּל ַה ֶשּׁ ֶמשׁ וְ ַה ֵצּל‪.‬‬
‫בוּעה ֶאת ָכּל ַח ְד ֵרי ַהיָּם‪,‬‬
‫ֲרה ַה ְטּ ָ‬
‫אַך ְכּ ֶשׁ ָע ְב ָרה ַה ַנּע ָ‬
‫ְ‬
‫מּוֹליד ֶאת ַהנְּ ָח ִלים‪.‬‬
‫ָד ְענוּ ֶשׁ ַהיָּם הוּא ַה ִ‬
‫יַ‬
‫‪281‬‬
‫תרי"ג מצוות ואחת‬
‫תרי"ג מצוות נצטוו ישראל‬
‫ושבע הן לבני נח‬
‫אף המתים חייבים באחת‪.‬‬
‫וְ ָה ִאישׁ ַה ֵמּת ָשׁב ְל ֵביתוֹ‬
‫ְל ַס ֵפּר ְל ָבנָיו ַעל מוֹתוֹ‬
‫ֶח ְרדוּ ָבּנָיו ְל ִמ ְשׁ ַמע‬
‫ְלבל י ֶ‬
‫נּוֹרא ַהזֶּה‪.‬‬
‫ַה ָדּ ָבר ַה ָ‬
‫וְ לֹא ָהיָה עוֹד ֵבּין ַה ֵמּ ִתים‬
‫ִמי ֶשׁ ָע ָשׂה ָכּזֹאת‪.‬‬
‫וּראוּ ְבּ ִק ְברוֹת ַה ֵמּ ִתים‬
‫ְצאוּ ְ‬
‫ִאם יֵשׁ ִמי ֶשׁ ָע ָשׂה ָכּזֹאת‪.‬‬
‫ָשׁב ִע ָמּנוּ וְ לֹא ָמשׁ‬
‫וְ הוּא י ַ‬
‫ָכּל ִשׁ ְב ַעת יְ ֵמי ֲא ֵבלוּת‪.‬‬
‫ִכּי ֵא ְ‬
‫נוּחה‬
‫יך יִ ָבּ ֵדל ֵמ ִא ָתּנוּ ִל ְמ ָ‬
‫ַחנוּ ְל ַבד ַבּ ַצּ ַער?‬
‫ַאנ ְ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫וְ הוּא ִס ֵפּר ֶאת ְדּ ַבר מוֹתוֹ‬
‫ֻריוֹ‪.‬‬
‫ַבּ ֵאר ָדּ ָבר ַעל בּ ְ‬
‫ִכּי זֹאת ָע ְל ָתה ְבּ ַמ ְח ַשׁ ְבתּוֹ‬
‫ֻחם‪.‬‬
‫ֶשׁ ָמּא ָבּזֹאת נְ נ ָ‬
‫נוּחה‬
‫ָא ָתה ַה ְמּ ָ‬
‫וְ אַף ִאם לוֹ י ֲ‬
‫יע בּוֹ‬
‫ַפ ִגּ ַ‬
‫הוּא יָשׁוּב ִאם נ ְ‬
‫וְ ַעל ָפּנֵינוּ לֹא ַי ֲעבֹר‬
‫וְ ַעל ַמ ְדוֵינוּ לֹא יִ ְת ַע ַלּם‬
‫ֵח ֶלק ְכּ ֵח ֶלק יִ ָשּׂא ִע ָמּנוּ‬
‫נּוֹרא ַהזֶּה‪.‬‬
‫ַבּ ָדּ ָבר ַה ָ‬
‫ָמים וְ ָשׁנִ ים ֵאין‪ִ -‬מ ְס ָפּר‬
‫ִשׁ ְב ָעה י ִ‬
‫ְבּ ָכל ֵעת ֶשׁיָּבוֹא ָרצוֹן ִמ ְלּ ָפנֵינוּ‬
‫ימת ֶשׁ ַה ַצּ ַער יִ ְג ַבּר ָע ֵלינוּ‬
‫ָכּל ֵא ַ‬
‫ָעזֹב ַי ֲעזֹב ִע ָמּנוּ‪.‬‬
‫‪282‬‬
‫‪Full Hebrew Poems by Amichai, Bialik and‬‬
‫‪Cohen Corresponding to Excerpts Quoted in‬‬
‫‪Hebrew: alphabetically by poets’ last names‬‬
‫‪in Hebrew‬‬
‫חיים נחמן ביאליק‬
‫יטה‬
‫ַעל ַה ְשּׁ ִח ָ‬
‫ָשׁ ַמיִ ם‪ַ ,‬בּ ְקּשׁוּ ַר ֲח ִמים ָע ָלי!‬
‫ָתיב‪-‬‬
‫ִאם‪-‬יֵשׁ ָבּ ֶכם ֵאל וְ ָל ֵאל ָבּ ֶכם נ ִ‬
‫אתיו‪-‬‬
‫ַאנִ י לֹא ְמ ָצ ִ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫אַתּם ָע ָלי!‬
‫ִה ְת ַפּ ְלּלוּ ֶ‬
‫ֲאנִ י‪ִ -‬ל ִבּי ֵמת וְ ֵאין עוֹד ְתּ ִפ ָלּה ִבּ ְשׂ ָפ ָתי‪,‬‬
‫אָז ַלת יָד אַף‪ֵ -‬אין ִתּ ְקוָה עוֹד‪-‬‬
‫וּכ ָבר ְ‬
‫ְ‬
‫ַעד‪ָ -‬מ ַתי‪ַ ,‬עד‪-‬אָנָה‪ַ ,‬עד‪ָ -‬מ ָתי?‬
‫ַה ַתּ ְליָן! ֵהא ַצוָּאר‪ -‬קוּם ְשׁ ָחט!‬
‫ָע ְר ֵפנִ י ַכּ ֶכּ ֶלב‪ְ ,‬ל ָך ְזר ַֹע ִעם‪ַ -‬ק ְרדֹּם‬
‫ַרדֹּם‪-‬‬
‫אָרץ ִלי ג ְ‬
‫וְ ָכל‪ָ -‬ה ֶ‬
‫ַחנוּ ַה ְמ ָעט!‬
‫ַחנוּ‪ֲ -‬אנ ְ‬
‫ַאנ ְ‬
‫וֲ‬
‫ָדּ ִמי ֻמ ָתּר‪ַ -‬ה ְך ָק ְדקֹד‪ ,‬וִ י ַזנֵּק ַדּם ֶר ַצח‪,‬‬
‫ֻתּנְ ְתּ ָך‪-‬‬
‫ָשׂב ַעל‪-‬כּ ָ‬
‫ַדּם יוֹנֵק ו ָ‬
‫ֶצח‪.‬‬
‫ֶתח‪ָ ,‬לנ ַ‬
‫וְ לֹא יִ ַמּח ָלנ ַ‬
‫יוֹפע ִמיָּד!‬
‫וְ ִאם יֵשׁ‪ֶ -‬צ ֶדק‪ַ -‬‬
‫יע‬
‫אַח ֵרי ִה ָשּׁ ְמ ִדי ִמ ַתּ ַחת ָר ִק ַ‬
‫אַך ִאם‪ֲ -‬‬
‫ְ‬
‫יע‪-‬‬
‫יוֹפ ַ‬
‫ַה ֶצּ ֶדק ִ‬
‫יְ ֻמגַּר‪-‬נָא ִכ ְסאוֹ ָל ַעד!‬
‫עוֹל ִמים ָשׁ ַמיִ ם יִ ָמּקּוּ;‬
‫וּב ֶר ַשׁע ָ‬
‫ְ‬
‫ֵדים‪ַ ,‬בּ ֲח ַמ ְס ֶכם זֶה‬
‫אַתּם ְלכוּ‪ ,‬ז ִ‬
‫אַף‪ֶ -‬‬
‫וּב ִד ְמ ֶכם ֲחיוּ וְ ִהנָּקוּ‪.‬‬
‫ְ‬
‫אוֹמר‪ :‬נְ קֹם!‬
‫וְ אָרוּר ָה ֵ‬
‫ֶלד ָק ָטן‬
‫נְ ָק ָמה ָכזֹאת‪ ,‬נִ ְק ַמת ַדּם י ֶ‬
‫עוֹד לֹא‪ָ -‬ב ָרא ַה ָשּׂ ָטן‪-‬‬
‫וְ יִ קֹּב ַה ָדּם ֶאת‪ַ -‬ה ְתּהוֹם!‬
‫יִ קֹּב ַה ָדּם ַעד ְתּהֹמוֹת ַמ ֲח ַשׁ ִכּים‪,‬‬
‫אָכל ַבּח ֶֹש ְך וְ ָח ַתר ָשׁם‬
‫וְ ַ‬
‫אָרץ ַהנְּ ַמ ִקּים‪.‬‬
‫מוֹסדוֹת ָה ֶ‬
‫ָכּל‪ְ -‬‬
‫‪Appendix D‬‬
‫‪283‬‬
‫אליעז כהן‬
‫שמע אד‪-‬ני‬
‫שׂר ֵאל ֶא ָחד‬
‫ְשׁ ַמע ֲאדֹ‪-‬נָי‪ ,‬יִ ְשׂ ָר ֵאל ַע ֶמּ ָך יִ ָ‬
‫אָה ְב ָתּ ֶאת יִ ְשׁ ָר ֵאל ַע ֶמּ ָך‬
‫וְ ַ‬
‫ְבּ ָכל ְל ָב ְב ָך‬
‫ַפ ְשׁ ָך‬
‫וּב ָכל נ ְ‬
‫ְ‬
‫וּב ָכל ְמא ֶֹד ָך‬
‫ְ‬
‫יך ָכּל ַהיּוֹם‬
‫ֶה ָר ִגים ָע ֶל ָ‬
‫וְ ָהיוּ ַה ָבּנִ ים ָה ֵא ֶלּה ֲא ֶשׁר נ ֱ‬
‫ַעל ְל ָב ְב ָך‬
‫יך‬
‫יע ָ‬
‫וְ ִשׁנַּנְ ָתּם ִבּ ְר ִק ֶ‬
‫וְ ִד ַבּ ְר ָתּ ָבּם‪:‬‬
‫ית ָך‬
‫ְבּ ִשׁ ְב ְתּ ָך ְבּ ֵב ֶ‬
‫וּב ֶל ְכ ְתּ ָך ַבּ ֶדּ ֶר ְך‬
‫ְ‬
‫קוּמ ָך‬
‫וּב ֶ‬
‫וּב ָשׁ ְכ ְבּ ָך ְ‬
‫ְ‬
‫וּק ַש ְר ָתּם ְלאוֹת ַעל‬
‫ְ‬
‫ַר ָחנִ יּוֹת( וְ ָהיוּ ְלט ָֹטפוֹת ֵבּין‬
‫ָד ָך ) ְס ָפרוֹת ְכּ ֻחלּוֹת ז ְ‬
‫יֶ‬
‫יעת ַה ַצּ ָלּ ִפים(‬
‫ֶיך ) ְכּמוֹ ְפּ ִג ַ‬
‫ֵעינ ָ‬
‫ית ָך‬
‫וּכ ַת ְב ָתּם ) ְבּ ָדם( ַעל‪ְ -‬מזֻזוֹת ֵבּ ֶ‬
‫ְ‬
‫יך‬
‫וּב ְשׁ ָע ֶר ָ‬
‫ִ‬
‫יהודה עמיחי‬
‫רועה ערבי מחפש בהר ציון‬
‫ֲר ִבי ְמ ַח ֵפּשׂ ְגּ ִדי ְבּ ַהר ִציּוֹן‪,‬‬
‫רוֹעה ע ָ‬
‫ֶ‬
‫וּב ָהר ִממּוּל ֲאנִ י ְמ ַח ֵפּשׂ ֶאת ְבּנִ י ַה ָקּ ָטן‪.‬‬
‫ָ‬
‫הוּדי‬
‫ֲר ִבי וְ אָב יְ ִ‬
‫רוֹעה ע ָ‬
‫ֶ‬
‫ְבּ ִכ ְשׁלוֹנָם ַה ְזּ ַמנִּ י‪.‬‬
‫ָשׁים ֵמ ַעל‬
‫קוֹלוֹת ְשׁנֵינוּ נִ ְפגּ ִ‬
‫ִל ְב ֵר ַכת ַה ֻשּׂ ְל ָטן ָבּ ֵע ֶמק ָבּ ֶא ְמ ַצע‪.‬‬
‫רוֹצים ֶשׁלֹּא יִ ָכּנְ סוּ‬
‫ְשׁנֵינוּ ִ‬
‫יך‬
‫תוֹך ַתּ ֲה ִל ְ‬
‫ַה ֵבּן וְ ַה ְגּ ִדי ְל ְ‬
‫גּדיָא‪.‬‬
‫נּוֹראָה ֶשׁל ַחד ְ‬
‫ַה ְמּכוֹנָה ַה ָ‬
‫יחים‪,‬‬
‫אוֹתם ֵבּין ַה ִשּׂ ִ‬
‫אַחר‪ָ -‬כּ ְך ָמ ָצאנוּ ָ‬
‫ַ‬
‫וּבכוּ וְ ָצ ֲחקוּ ִבּ ְפנִ ים‪.‬‬
‫וְ קוֹלוֹ ֵתינוּ ָח ְזרוּ ֵא ֵלינוּ ָ‬
‫אַחר ֵבּן‬
‫אַחר ְגּ ִדי אוֹ ַ‬
‫פּוּשׂים ַ‬
‫ַה ִח ִ‬
‫ָהיוּ ָתּ ִמיד‬
‫ַה ְת ָח ַלת ָדּת ֲח ָד ָשׁה ֶבּ ָה ִרים ָה ֵא ֶלּה‪.‬‬