אלכסנדר פן / היה או לא היה
|
Alexander Pen / Has It Ever Been?
|
בכל פגישה מקרית פורחת איזו תכלת |
With anyone you meet, a purity ignites, dear To every single look – some lilac’s scent there is Yet has it ever been? There are in fact such nights here Your night was always his, but who would have had his?
|
נפגשו במקרה, גם מקרים יאמנו |
When they met, was it chance? Is chance hard to believe in? She was blue, looking down, he was quiet and drunk He said: pardon me, isn’t it great to be living If one finds here a great made-up wonder by luck
|
היא אותו אהבה, הוא את בית המרזח |
Yes, she loved him so much, he – made love to his tavern And they both loved the night walking out on the street To her home Moon accompanied them, and ungoverned He would smile her “Good night”. “’Night!” she’d silently greet.
|
היה או לא היה - הפשר לא נודע לי |
But Has it ever been? Or nonsense, non-committal? Their touch ignited his coop’s symphonies of ease With anyone you meet, there’s something that is fatal Her night was always his, but who would have had his?
|
היא אותו אהבה, הוא אהב את היין |
Oh, she loved him so much, he – made love to his liquor And they both loved to gather there star after star And the Moon loved them both, for the Moon – it won’t flicker – For the Moon always loves loving lovers afar
|
ושתקו, יראים לנפץ את השקט |
They’d keep still, as if fearing to shatter their bliss – Just the smile of his pupils was stroking her head She would envy his wine, for his lips – they could kiss – Neon, liquor, and glass full of redness instead
|
היה או לא היה, תמימות היא או איוולת? |
Yet has it ever been? Just foolish, or naïve here? Her narrow doorstep saw too many dying eves Yet has it ever been – a wonder, dream conceived, dear Her night was always his, but who would have had his?
|
הימים לא חיכו... כה חופזים בימינו |
And the days did not wait… nowadays they do hurry All these days, so accustomed to row to the shore She thought, isn’t it dreadful and funny and horrid If we still love so much, and yet want even more
|
היא אותו אהבה, הוא את בית המרזח |
Yes, she loved him so much, he – made love to his tavern And they both loved the piercing, intestinal fear One night finally Moon shivered, hearing, ungoverned, All her words to him, said with a voice sharp and clear
|
היה או לא היה, הפשר לא נודע לי |
Oh, has it ever been? Or nonsense, non-committal? My night was always yours, your night was never mine With anyone you meet, there’s something that is fatal I’ve tired of this love… Farewell, you, Never-mine… |
From Hebrew: Yuval Marton, August 25, 2005
Many thanks to Donny Inbar for his enlightening remarks.