SHARDS AND WHISPERS (PROLOGUE)
I lift up my eyes to the hills– where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth
— Psalm 121:1-2 (silent)
MALE WHISPERER
Play quietly, more quietly, still more quietly…
delude me, deceive me
Promise me something,
throw even just a coin…
Let me still believe an angel
Threw it from above.
— “In Melody Absorbed” by Yisroel Emyot. Stanza 1. Excerpt (Translation by Leah Zazulyer)
FEMALE WHISPERER
Why do you vibrate, my soul,
rumbling deeply in my chest?
The walls of my core are
trembling.
Higher, still higher soars
your quiet honor.
Then, falling, it buries itself
under the dust of your feet.
— “Violoncello” by Dovid Hofshteyn. Stanza 1 (Translation by Lera Auerbach)
MALE WHISPERER
A cello plays a death song in the yard
And the wind cries a night lament.
I lie quiet near the door
And hear my blood laugh like a joker in me.
— “A Cello Plays” by Simkha Shayevitch (Translation by Sarah Traister Moskovitz)
FEMALE WHISPERER
I am so weary of wisdom, mine and others—
undress me to my naked self, my very being,
denude me of all my clothing until I am
a newborn with only its undershirt
and its beautiful blind faith in everything.
— “In Melody Absorbed” by Yisroel Emyot. Stanza 2 (Translation by Leah Zazulyer)
PART I “LETTERS TO NOWHERE
I rewrite your address on each letter
I send you over the oceans, over the lands,
My whole life over – letters from me to that
small bit of twilight, that absent fervor.
— “To Someone” by Yisroel Emyot. Excerpt (Translation by Leah Zazulyer)
The reddish windows of trains – sad and cold –
like the cried-out eyes of widows.
In their pupils – the downcast glow of my head…
Somewhere flickers the night-train.
I am so grateful – through days and nights –
to keep this small corner on the train-bench!
Only this corner saves my life.
The windows of the train…
In their pupils is flickering my despondent head.
—Untitled by Peretz Markish. Excerpt (Translation by Lera Auerbach)
Silence, silence, silence
comes down heavy as a stone –
Don’t leave me alone…
— “Don’t Leave Me Alone” by Yisroel Emyot. Excerpt (Translation by Leah Zazulyer)
I rewrite your address on each letter
I send you over the oceans, over the lands,
My whole life over – letters from me to that
small bit of twilight, that absent fervor.
— “To Someone” by Yisroel Emyot. Excerpt (Translation by Leah Zazulyer)
SHARDS AND WHISPERS (INTERLUDE 1)
He will not let your foot slip– he who watches over you will not slumber;
Indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
— Psalm 121:3-4 (silent)
MALE WHISPERER
From resurrecting warm rain
She begins slowly to blossom, to grow –
(together with the childhood of my aged memory)
The fiddle rose in her earth-black coffin.
— “The Fiddle Rose” by Avrom Sutzkever. Stanza 1 (Translation by Ruth Whitman)
FEMALE WHISPERER
Why do you vibrate, my soul,
rumbling deeply in my chest?
Why do you bathe in the dust,
and wash yourself in the ashes?
So are birds in the smoldering heat,
thirsty for water – can cool
themselves in the earth,
and get refreshed in the sand.
— “Violoncello” by Dovid Hofshteyn. Stanza 2 (Translation by Lera Auerbach)
FEMALE WHISPERER
Play oh play on, discover me
like mother did who still urges me
to go outdoors but then
when night comes closes the shutters
calls me no more
and I must stay forever the outsider.
— “In Melody Absorbed” by Yisroel Emyot. Stanza 3 (Translation by by Leah Zazulyer)
MALE WHISPERER
Comfort me, console me
with a little lie,
the yesterday’s day,
that brings me heaven-preserve-us
much ado about nothing
Until I just up and die
for truth is so harsh, so difficult—
And no one promises anything.
— “In Melody Absorbed” by Yisroel Emyot. Stanza 4 (Translation by Leah Zazulyer)
PART II “LULLABY”
I will not wake you up.
Perhaps, only a bird,
who knows your golden eyes,
will stand on your bed-post.
The bird had made a bet with June’s Night
(which is beautiful and maddeningly arrogant)
that you are still a thousand times more beautiful.
I will not wake you up.
Perhaps, only the wind
may quickly penetrate the cracks.
What will you do with the wind –
it wants to know if there is anything more beautiful
than clouds, stars, and dogs.
I will not wake you up.
Perhaps, only a tree
will rustle noisily in your dreams.
The tree – most ancient in the forest –
may be a thousand years old.
What will you do with the tree –
it wants to know if there is anything more beautiful
than its noises, its blossoms, its dreams.
I will not wake you up.
Perhaps only the rain,
will come, all gray from its travels.
It will tap on the house with its fingers.
The rain is still young.
Only yesterday it was a prince,
today it is enchanted. Just one of your smiles —
and it will become himself again.
I will not wake you up,
Perhaps only an angel
flying from far away
on a white moonbeam
will kneel at your bedside
and sing: “Sister, my little sister,
what could be more beautiful
than you and I.”
. . . . . .
Hush, with a golden bolt
I’ll lock the door.
— “Lullaby” by Itzik Manger (Translation by Lera Auerbach)
SHARDS AND WHISPERS (INTERLUDE 2)
The LORD watches over you– the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
—Psalm 121:5-6 (silent)
MALE WHISPERER
…Look, I stand now nearly at my grave
and the almonds and raisins that the lullaby
promised to me a hand has stolen from my cradle
never to be returned.
— “In Melody Absorbed” by Yisroel Emyot. Stanza 5 (Translation by Leah Zazulyer)
FEMALE WHISPERER
Why do you vibrate, my soul,
from the depth of my chest,
boiling like fresh blood
spilled on the mute stones?
The boiling will not subside
from its pure innocence,
nor from its hot devotion –
it is trembling, spilling over.
— “Violoncello” by Dovid Hofshteyn. Stanza 3 (Translation by Lera Auerbach)
MALE WHISPERER
The fiddle rose doesn’t need to fiddler,
there’s no one left to praise or curse her.
She plays without a player, with joy and faith
in honor of a reborn string.
— “The Fiddle Rose” by Avrom Sutzkever. Stanza 2 (Translation by Ruth Whitman)
FEMALE WHISPERER
…Oh God let me not fare any worse than the whole world
while you keep lamenting
how forlorn it all is
and for which you cry
as if seeking a lost child.
— “In Melody Absorbed” by Yisroel Emyot. Stanza 6 (Translation by Leah Zazulyer)
PART III “BURNING”
I feel I’m in a burning forest,
The trees are flying in acrid smoke.
Woe is me!..
My cradle – the tongue of fire
in the abysmal height…
Mama, my hands are tied – one to the other.
Mama, mama, make it so that I feel no pain.
I feel the trees are watching me,
their leaves are swarming – poisonous wasps.
The forest ablaze for my execution.
I walk alone, all alone, through the moving flames!
I burn not – I care not.
Only my legs are now tied – one to the other.
Mama, mama, make it so that I feel no pain.
I am holding you in my arms,
I am your cradle now, lost child.
But all my fingers are frozen now,
and the blazing wind is shaking,
dragging me by the hair, scorching.
—Untitled by Peretz Markish (Translation by Lera Auerbach)
SHARDS AND WHISPERS (INTERLUDE 3)
The LORD will keep you from all harm– he will watch over your life;
The LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.
—Psalm 121:7-8 (silent)
FEMALE WHISPERER
In honor of a string, in honor of its vibration,
In honor of a bee whose honey is bitter
but whose sting is sweet, so juicy and flowerlike –
in honor of a reborn pain.
— “The Fiddle Rose” by Avrom Sutzkever (Translation by Ruth Whitman)
MALE WHISPERER
Oh, bend to me, my soul,
sing heartfully within my depth,
cleansed by ashes
purified by blood,
your strings tremble gentler,
enlightened by the sobbing…
Let the grief and sorrows
illuminate the way!
— “Violoncello” by Dovid Hofshteyn. Stanza 4 (Translation by Lera Auerbach)
FEMALE WHISPERER
God, because of your pain you break
apart rows of houses huddled in streets
and instead placed them in solitude
In the mist of the fields—
small houses beside water
with sunset in the windows;
transform day into twilight
and fill rivers with longing.
— “In Melody Absorbed” by Yisroel Emyot. Stanza 7 (Translation by Leah Zazulyer)
PART IV “FAREWELL GREETINGS”
The train is hounded, like an exile’s heart.
In the fields, a harvest of white snow.
Red eyes glisten, glow, and are extinguished…
All roads are bright; only the heart is dark
As it goes stumbling through the ripened white.
Tired and hushed, I say and hear the blue
Of your name. I say it to the night—
Your blue name to the whiteness of the night.
— “In The Train” by Itzik Manger. Excerpt (Translation by Leonard Wolf)
Will I die tonight?
That’s it – the end? The final verse?
My executioner – a hawk – wants
to crush my throat in its claws.
Kneel, beg for mercy?
Nonsense! Let me perish,
but my heart will flare still
like the sun above the mountain.
I am not spoiled by dreams…
but if at least once,
over my grave, a child will recite
my poem in Yiddish…
Let then at the tombstone
my farewell greetings resound for the living:
I sang the best I could for you, my people!
I was a true Yiddish poet!
— “Gulag Poems” (No. 14) by Moishe Teyf. Excerpt (Translation by Lera Auerbach)
SHARDS AND WHISPERS (INTERLUDE 4)
The LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.
I lift up my eyes to the hills– where does my help come from?
—Psalm 121:8 – 121:1 (silent)
FEMALE WHISPERER
Why do you vibrate, my soul?
— “Violoncello” by Dovid Hofshteyn. Line 1 (Translation by Lera Auerbach)
MALE WHISPERER
With or without me
days will pass to their harsh death…
FEMALE WHISPERER
I will be a flower then, or perhaps something else…
MALE WHISPERER
It’s no big deal to die.
—Untitled poem by Yisroel Emyot. Excerpt (Translation by Leah Zazulyer)
FEMALE WHISPERER
Oh, promise me at least something—
that the tree leaves fluttering away in
autumn, like handkerchiefs at leave-taking,
those leaves
will return.
though they never come back the same.
— “In Melody Absorbed” by Yisroel Emyot. Stanza 8 (Translation by Leah Zazulyer)
MALE WHISPERER
Why do you vibrate, my soul?
— “Violoncello” by Dovid Hofshteyn. Line 1 (Translation by Lera Auerbach)
Now, you are all I know, and the white night.
Now, you are all I know, and the white night.
— “In The Train” by Itzik Manger. Excerpt (Translation by Leonard Wolf)
Part V “MIRACLE” (EPILOGUE)
Strange are the people
who travel on trains.
Their faces —
all dappled with moons —
awaken the sorrow
of the inmost faraway places
and vanish
as if they were never there.
And only the rails,
that cut through the sands of the heavens
know,
That each face is a miracle,
and that this miracle
can happen once again.
— “Miracle” by Rajzel Zychlinski (Translation by Abby Weaver)