Tags
Advaitam Art Movement, advaitam poetry movement, Contemporary Poetry from Israel, contemporary world poetry, Hebrew Poetry in Advaitam, hengul haitaal advaitam, Hengul-Haitaal, Indian Literary Journal, Indian Literature Today, World Literarture
Gili Haimovich is a prizewinning bilingual poet and translator in Hebrew and English. She won the international Italian poetry competition Ossi di Seppia for best foreign poet (2019) and awarded as an outstanding artist by the Ministry of Culture, (Israel, 2015) among other prizes. Both of her last books in Hebrew Landing Lights, (2017) and Baby Girl, (2014) won grants from The Acum Association of Authors and her second book Reflected Like Joy, (2002) won The Pais Grant for Culture. She is the author of three poetry books in English: Promised Lands (2020), Sideways Roots (2017), and Living on a Blank Page (2008), six volumes of poetry in Hebrew and a multilingual book, Note (2019).
Her poems are translated into 30 languages including full length books in French and Serbian. Her poetry is featured in anthologies, festivals and journals worldwide such as World Literature Today, Poetry International, International Poetry Review, LRC – The Literary Review of Canada, Asymptote, Tok – Writing the New Toronto, New Voices – Contemporary Writers Confronting the Holocaust and 101 Jewish Poems for the Third Millennium as well as in major journals and anthologies in Israel such as The Most Beautiful Poems in Hebrew – A Hundred Years of Israeli Poetry and A Naked Queen – An Anthology of Israeli Social Protest Poetry. Gili also a visual artist, writing focuses arts therapist and a teacher of creative writing in Israel and abroad.
*********************************************************************
רַק חוּט הַקַּו עַל הַנְּיָר מַחְזִיק אוֹתִי
אִם אֶשְׁמֹט אֶת הָעֵט אֶפֹּל אֶל מָה שֶׁכָּתוּב עָלָיו
כִּמְעַט כְּמוֹ גִּבּוֹר בְּסֶרֶט פְּעֻלָּה
הַנִּתְלֶה בְּיָדָיו הַחֲסוֹנוֹת עַל צוּק גָּבוֹהַּ מֵעַל תְּהוֹם.
אֲנִי אֲבָל לֹא שְׁרִירִית.
מַתְחִילָה לְהַחְלִיק.
****
Only the thread of the line holds me on the page.
If I drop the pen I’ll fall on what’s written here.
Almost like an action movie hero,
who hangs with his mighty hands on a cliff over an abyss.
I, though, am not brawny.
Starting to slide
(Translated into English by Dara Barnat and the author )
************************************************************
קווים (או: ערב שירה עברית-יידית-צרפתית)
גַּם כְּשֶׁאַתְּ כְּבָר זוֹכָה לִשְׁמֹעַ נֵבֶל
זֶה מֵהַצַּד הַמְּסֹרָג,
כָּכָה לָמַדְתְּ לֶאֱהֹב,
אֲפִלּוּ אֶת הַצֶּבַע הַיָּרֹק,
דֶּרֶךְ עַמּוּדֵי הַגְּשָׁרִים עַל נְהַר הַסֵּין.
לִהְיוֹת כָּכָה, פְּשׁוּטָה
גַּם בִּזְרוֹעוֹת,
מַחְבֶּרֶת
שׁוּרָה אַחַת
****
Lines (or: Hebrew-Yiddish-French Poetry Reading)
Even when you get to listen to a harp
it’s on the grated side.
This is how you learned to love
even the color green,
through the bridges’ columns on the Seine River.
To be simply stretched like that,
arms too, bridged from one side to the other,
like one line
in a notebook,
although a ruled one.
***************************************************************
חומוס ושמפניה
אָהַבְתִּי כְּמִי שֶׁנֶחְנֶקֶת.
נֶאֱהַבְתִּי כְּמוֹ הָיְתָה לִי זְכוּת.
נִשֵּׂאנוּ בְּשָׂפָה שֶׁאֵינָהּ שֶׁלָּנוּ,
בְּחָצֵר אֲחוֹרִית שֶׁשָּׁאַלְנוּ
מֵאֲנָשִׁים שֶׁלֹּא בֶּאֱמֶת הִכַּרְנוּ.
הָיוּ לָנוּ אוֹרְחִים שֶׁהִגִּיעוּ
רַק מִתּוֹךְ הַסַּקְרָנוּת. וְעִם זֹאת,
שִׁכְנַעְנוּ עַצְמֵנוּ שֶׁזֹּאת מִשְׁאַלְתֵּנוּ.
אֶת שְׁאָר הַשִּׁכְנוּעִים הִשְׁאַרְנוּ לַחוּמוּס וְלַשַּׁמְפַּנְיָה.
מָתְקָה אַהֲבָתְךָ אֵלַי,
כְּמוֹ זוֹ שֶׁל דְּבַשׁ לְדֻבְשָׁנִית,
אַךְ טַעֲמָהּ הָיָה כְּשֶׁל חוּמוּס מַתְסִיס.
תָּרָה אַחֲרֵי מָתוֹק,
הוֹתַרְתִּי לָנוּ
לְהִסָּחֵף לְיֶרַח דְּבַשׁ סְפּוֹנְטָנִי.
אָז כְּבָר מוּכָנָה הָיִיתִי לְהִסְתַּפֵּק
רַק בִּדְבַשׁ
גַּם אִם לֹא לְאוֹר יָרֵחַ.
לַמְרוֹת הַפְּשָׁרָה,
הַחֻפְשָׁה לֹא שָׂרְדָה,
יוֹתֵר מִיְּמָמָה.
נִדְרַשְׁתִּי לְיוֹתֵר מֵעִדָּן כְּדֵי לָדַעַת,
יֶרַח הַדְּבַשׁ מְזֻיָּף הָיָה.
כְּשֶׁלַּיְלָה קַר עָלָה
טַעַמְךָ הִבְשִׁיל כְּמוֹ מַמְתָּק מָלוּחַ.
וּכְשֶׁשָּׁנִים רַבּוּ,
נִסִּיתִי טַעַמְךָ לַחְקֹק בִּי,
טַעַם שֶׁל חוּמוּס וְשַׁמְפַּנְיָה.
****
Champagne and Hummus
I’ve loved like I’m strangled
and been loved like I’m entitled.
We got married in a language that is not our own
in a backyard on loan
from people we’re unfamiliar with.
We had guests that came only
out of curiosity. And yet,
we convinced ourselves
that this is what we want.
We left the rest of the convincing
to the champagne and hummus.
Though you did love me,
as the honey
loves his honey bun,
it tasted more like sparkling hummus.
Seeking sweet,
I did allow us
to cast away
to a spontaneous honeymoon.
By then I was willing to reach
just the honey without the moon.
But even so, it lasted less than a day.
It took me more than era
to realize the honeymoon was fake.
As night grew cold
you tasted like a savory desert.
As I grow old
I will try to recall
the taste of you,
of champagne and hummus.
********************************************************************
מבעד לעינינו המאוגרפות
“הַחַיִּים שֶׁלָּנוּ פֹּה הֵם אַשְׁלָיָה”,
אוֹמֵר הַחַלּוֹן בַּחֲדַר הַשֵּׁנָה, עֵינוֹ פְּקוּחָה תָּמִיד.
מְסָרֶבֶת לְהֵעָצֵם,
אֲנַחְנוּ יְשֵׁנִים בְּתוֹכָהּ.
מִבַּעַד לְעֵינֵינוּ הַמְּאֻגְרָפוֹת
אוֹר הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ מְסַמֵּא.
פַּעַם הָיִיתִי הַזֹּהַר שֶׁלְּךָ,
וַאֲנִי דּוֹהָה עַכְשָׁו
בַּחֲדַר הַשֵּׁנָה שֶׁלָּנוּ
(שֶׁהוּא בְּעֶצֶם לֹא שֶׁלָּנוּ.
גַּם לֹא הַשֵּׁנָה).
****
Through Our Clenched Eyes
“Our life here is an illusion,”
says the bedroom window, its eye always open,
refusing to shut,
so we sleep inside it.
Through our clenched eyes
the sunlight is glaring.
Once I was your glowing light;
now I’m dimmed
in our bedroom
(that’s not really ours.
Nor is the sleep.)
**************************************************************
כל המאוֹרות
אֲנִי נִטְעֶנֶת מֵאֶנֶרְגְּיָה סוֹלָרִית
אֲבָל עַכְשָׁו יֵשׁ לִי אוֹתְךָ וְאֶת הַיַּלְדָּה.
אֲנִי מֻכְרָחָה לִמְשֹׁךְ אֶת כֻּלְּכֶם
הַחוּצָה, עַל גַּבִּי
רַק כְּדֵי שֶׁאוּכַל לְהִטָּעֵן.
וְהַיַּלְדָּה הִיא שֶׁמֶשׁ קְטַנָּה,
אֲנִי שֶׁמֶשׁ מְעַט יוֹתֵר גְּדוֹלָה,
וְאַתָּה הַיָּרֵחַ.
אֵלּוּ כָּל הַמְּאוֹרוֹת.
אֵין מִלְּבַדָּם אֶלָּא חֲשֵׁכָה?
אֲנִי צְרִיכָה לַחֲצֹב דַּרְכִּי הַחוּצָה,
מִבַּעַד לְמַחְשַׁכֵּי הַבַּיִת, מְבוֹכֵי הַכְּבִיסָה, מַפְּלֵי הֶחָלָב וְהַבֶּכִי,
לְהִטָּעֵן מֵאֶנֶרְגְּיָה סוֹלָרִית
שֶׁתַּחְדֹּר אוֹתִי,
תַּעֲבֹר לַיַּלְדָּה
אוּלָם לֹא תַּחְרֹךְ אוֹתְךָ.
אֵלּוּ כָּל הַמְּאוֹרוֹת,
אֵין מִלְּבַדֵּנוּ אֶלָּא חֲשֵׁכָה
****
What Lights Up the Sky
I am solar powered,
but now I have you and our baby girl.
I have to pull you all
outside, on my back,
just to be charged.
And our baby girl, she is a small sun,
I am a slightly larger sun,
and you are the moon.
These alone light up the sky.
None other than them but darkness?
I need to carve my way outside,
through the dark corners of the house,
labyrinths of laundry,
waterfalls of milk and tears,
to be charged by solar power
that will go through me,
to our baby girl,
but not scorch you.
These alone light up the sky,
none other than us but darkness.
****
The poems are written and translated by Gili Haimovich other than: Untitled (“Only the thread…”), Through Our Clenched Eyes, “What Lights Up the Sky that are translated by Dara Barnat with the author.
