On Shabbat Tshuvah rocks were in my head,
the Rock of Ages, Rock Immutable,
stone you stumble on,
the Rock that Moses beat,
life-giving, unforgiving,
reminding and forbidding,
base of our foundation.
Born as a stone that Jacob’s head lay on,
transformed to Pillow of Illumination,
it lives within myself cemented to my people,
history, Creator.
On Shabbat afternoon I fell asleep
and dreamed I was a Pyramid of rocks,
heavy the base and reaching to the sky,
white, impenetrable, immutable.
On my stony slope I saw a paper sliver,
fragile, just one line,
four still, thin written words,
weighing no more than a fading flower,
a fleeting dream, a passing breeze,
no weight at all…
with lips
I uttered them,
then I, vast Pyramid, stood up
light as a leaf
and walked.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is very beautiful and poignant. Some poems encompass so much more than words in their being. This one contains several entire worlds in it, I imagine...