Dahlia Ravikovitch (17 november 1936 21 augustus 2005)
De Israëlische dichteres en schrijfster Dahlia Ravikovitch werd geboren op 17 november 1936 in een voorstad van Tel Aviv. Zie ook mijn blog van 17 november 2006.
Hovering at a low altitude
I am not here.
I am on those craggy eastern hills
streaked with ice
where grass doesn't grow
and a sweeping shadow overruns the slope.
A little shepherd girl
with a herd of goats,
black goats,
emerges
from an unseen tent.
She won't live out the day, that girl,
in the pasture.
I am not here.
Inside the gaping mouth of the mountain
a red globe flares,
not yet a sun.
A lesion of frost, flushed and sickly,
flickers in that gorge.
And the little one rose up so early
to go to the pasture.
She doesn't walk with neck outstretched
and wanton glances.
She doesn't adorn her eyes with kohl.
She doesn't ask, Whence cometh my help.
I am not here.
I've been in the mountains many days now.
The light will not scald me. The frost cannot touch me.
Nothing can amaze me now.
I've seen worse things in my life.
I tuck my dress tight around my legs and hover
very close to the ground.
What could she be thinking, that girl?
Wild to look at, unwashed.
For a moment she crouches down.
Her cheeks soft silk,
frostbite on the back of her hands.
She seems distracted, but no,
in fact she's alert.
She still has a few hours left.
But that's hardly the object of my meditations.
My thoughts, soft as down, cushion me comfortably.
I've found a very simple method,
not so much as a foot-breadth on land
and not flying, either
hovering at a low altitude.
But as day tends toward noon,
many hours
after sunrise,
that man makes his way up the mountain.
He looks innocent enough.
The girl is right there, close by,
not another soul around.
And if she runs for cover, or cries out
there's no place to hide in the mountains.
I am not here.
I'm above those savage mountain ranges
in the farthest reaches of the east.
No need to elaborate.
With a single hurling thrust one can hover
and whirl about with the speed of the wind,
make a getaway and take comfort in saying:
I haven't seen a thing.
And the little one, her eyes start from their sockets,
her palate is dry as a potsherd,
when a hard hand closes over her hair, grasping her
without a shred of pity.
When the eyes open
Snow on the mountains
above the High Places
and above Jerusalem.
Come down O Jerusalem
and return my child to me.
Come O Bethlehem
and return my child to me.
Come high mountains
come winds
come floods in the harbors
and return my child to me.
And even you, O bent bulrush,
thin stalk in the stream,
stringy desert bushes,
return my child to me
as the soul returns to the body
when the eyes open.
Dahlia Ravikovitch (17 november 1936 21 augustus 2005)
De Nederlandse dichter en schrijver Joost van den Vondel werd geboren op 17 november 1587 in Keulen. Zie ook mijn blog van 17 november 2006.
AFBEELDINGE VAN DE HALS VRIENDSCHAP
TUSSCHEN
ORESTES en PYLADES,
VOOR DEN E. HEER FILIPS VAN HAERLEM.
Aº. 1656?
Fortunati ambo.
(Gelukkig tweetal)
Zoo t hart zich zelf uitbeelden kan
Door t zichtbre merk, vergunt dat Koning
Ontvouw voor Haerlem, zijn genan,
Iet koninkljks, en een vertooning
Van halsgetrouwheid, in Orest
En Pylades, zou klaar gebleken
Voor Thoas, in het Noordsch gewest;
Daar geen van beide in trouw bezweken,
En elk voor ander sterven woû.
Geen schrik des doods scheidt ware trouw
KINDER-LYCK.
Aº. 1633?
Constantijnt je, t zaligh kijntje
Cherubijnt je, van om hoogh,
Dydelheden, hier beneden,
Vitlacht met een lodderoogh.
Moeder, zeit hy, waarom schreit ghy?
Waarom greit ghy, op mijn lijck?
Boven leef ick, boven zweef ick,
Engeltje van t hemelrijck:
En ick blinck er, en ick drincker
t Geen de schincker alles goets
Schenckt de zielen, die daar krielen,
Dertel van veel overvloets.
Leer dan reizen met gepeizen
Naar pallaizen, uit het slick
Dezer werrelt, die zoo dwerrelt.
Eeuwigh gaat voor oogenblick.
