you should speak and think to yourself:
what glitters white on the greening slope?
On the green slope the orchards play
and go down to the water’s edge,
like little lambs with golden bells.
White lambs on the greening slope.
But death will come, asking no one.
8. THE ARGUMENT
Have I not lived on this earth a long time?
Adding it up, out loud, is enough to cause fear.
Yet even now the heart loves not itself.
It paces, a prisoner in its cell—
but what it doesn’t see in that window!
Then an old woman had this to say:
“How good, how warm to be in God’s world.
Like peas in a pod, we lie in rows,
we lie in the hands of the Lord.
The one you seek—will not return.
Anything you ask—will not be done.
Even this will gladden the heart,
like sweet-tasting grains
offered to a bird in its ornate cage—
this gift, too, is not in vain.”
I nodded, but said under my breath:
enough, you foolish old woman.
Anything is possible, and then some.
9. SUPPLICATION
What poor, miserable people!
They are not evil, just impatient:
they eat bread—and hunger for more,
they drink—and the wine sobers them.
If asked,
I should say: O God,
make of me something new!
I love the greatness of miracle
and have no love for misfortune.
Make of me a stone, all faceted,
and then lose it, dropped from the ring finger
onto desert sands.
Let it lie quietly,
not inside, not outside,
but everywhere, as a mystery.
And no one would see it,
Only the light inside and the light outside.
And the light is like children at play,
like small children, and tamed beasts.
10. THE WORD
He who loves will be loved in return.
He who serves shall be served—
if not now, then another time, later.
But the best reward comes of gratitude,
he shall walk forth, his work finished, and without Rachel
feel happy, climbing green hills.
You, word, are the robes of Kings,
a dress of patience, both long and short,
more lofty than the sky, more joyous than the sun.
Our eyes will not see
your color—a color near to us, and dear,
no human ears shall hear the noise
of your swishing, broad pleats,
only the heart will say to itself:
“You are free, and you shall be free,
and you shall not answer to slaves.”
SECOND NOTEBOOK
Dedicated to my grandmother
1. BRAVERY AND MERCY
The sun shines upon just and unjust alike,
and the earth is nowhere the worse:
you can go west or east,
or wherever you are told,
you can simply stay at home.
Bravery steers the ships
on the wide oceans.
Mercy rocks the cradle of reason,
a cradle deep as it is decrepit.
He who knows bravery, knows also mercy,
for they are as sisters:
bravery is the easiest thing in the world,
the easiest of all deeds—is charity.
2. MARCHING SONG
To France there journeyed two grenadiers, escaped from confinement in Russia,
Their jackets were covered completely in dust, and France was also all dusty.
How strange it now seems. Life suddenly settles, like ashes,
Like snow on the roads of Smolensk, or sand on the steppes of Arabia.
And vision goes further, and further, the sky most visible of all.
“What dost Thou want, o Lord, what dost Thou want from Thy slave?”
Above our every desire, a lash of sorts rests, waiting to be seen.
Would that my eyes had not seen. But it is ordained that they see.
And so they shall see. Is anything impossible above this humble and vulgar earth?
How high does the fateful comet’s
