God Hid His Face
Selected Poems of RAJZEL ZYCHLINSKY
 
The Fiddle

Night. Over shadows of naked trees
I stride with pounding heart.
Wind in yellow lanterns, and above our heads a sky 
with cold stars. 
– Our ships sail on oceans 
to the promised land.
The closer the ship comes to the shore, 
the more restlessly the ocean billows. 
The earth disappears like a mirage, 
and my heart is a goblet full of poison. 
The promised land disappears, 
with all its hills and valleys.
There remains for us only the fiddle 
on which David played for Saul. 
The waters are salty – 
and the earth?

For generations you have wept, fiddle –
Now you are the sword in our hand.
 

Translated by Barnett Zumoff

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