This
morning, after waking up very early, I was reading Yehuda Mirsky's biography of
Rav Kook. On page 35 he quotes a line from a Bialik poem, לא זכיתי באור מן ההפקר.[1]
I
dutifully looked up the poem in my copy of Kol Kitvei Bialik and
was quite taken by the short poem. A google search for the text brought to my
attention that Miki Gavrielov (http://jazztimes.com/guides/artists/14267-miki-gavrielov)
had actually put this song to music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B8Th7oH5HUA
(These are all things that I’m sure any Israeli my age
would know like the back of their hands—but, of course, I’m not Israeli.)
Being up so early, I felt motivated to translate this
beautiful poem. After completing my translation, I discovered that I was not
the first (nor, I’m sure the last) to have tried my hand at translating this
poem (for example: http://www.soulandgone.com/2014/05/03/hayim-nahman-bialik-lo-zakhiti-be-or-min-ha-hefqeir/ this is also the site from which I stole the Hebrew with nikkud) but here’s my attempt:
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H.N. Bialik
I Did Not Merit the Light from the Castoff
I did not merit
the light from the castoff,
Nor did it come
as an inheritance from my father,
But from my rock
and my slab I cleaved it
And hewed it from
my heart.
One spark is
concealed in the flint of my heart,
A small spark—but
it is all mine,
Neither borrowed
from another, nor stolen
But it is from me
and in me.
Under the hammer
of my great sorrows
For my heart
bursts, my strength’s rock,
The spark flies, it
leaps into my eye,
And from my eye—to my verse.
And from my verse
it escapes to your hearts,
And in the
burning of your fire that I have ignited, it vanishes,
And I, with my
flesh and my blood
Shall fulfill the
burning-flame.
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חיים נחמן ביאליק
לא זכיתי באור מן ההפקר לֹא זָכִיתִי בָאוֹר מִן-הַהֶפְקֵר, אַף לֹא-בָא לִי בִירֻשָּׁה מֵאָבִי, כִּי מִסַּלְעִי וְצוּרִי נִקַּרְתִּיו וַחֲצַבְתִּיו מִלְּבָבִי. נִיצוֹץ אֶחָד בְּצוּר לִבִּי מִסְתַּתֵּר, נִיצוֹץ קָטָן – אַךְ כֻּלּוֹ שֶׁלִּי הוּא, לֹא שְׁאִלְתִּיו מֵאִישׁ, לֹא גְנַבְתִּיו – כִּי מִמֶּנִּי וּבִי הוּא. וְתַחַת פַּטִּישׁ צָרוֹתַי הַגְּדוֹלוֹת כִּי יִתְפּוֹצֵץ לְבָבִי, צוּר-עֻזִּי, זֶה הַנִּיצוֹץ עָף, נִתָּז אֶל-עֵינִי, וּמֵעֵינִי – לַחֲרוּזִי. וּמֵחֲרוּזִי יִתְמַלֵּט לִלְבַבְכֶם, וּבְאוּר אֶשְׁכֶם הִצַּתִּיו, יִתְעַלֵּם, וְאָנֹכִי בְּחֶלְבִּי וּבְדָמִי אֶת-הַבְּעֵרָה אֲשַׁלֵּם. |
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