The Poetry of Haviva Pedaya

    Haviva Pedaya (חביבה פדיה), along with Mois Ben Harash, has been named a recipient of the 2012 Yehuda Amichai Prize for Hebrew poetry. The turns of phrase she deploys often depend on the language of the Psalms and the siddur. She writes from a situation of need and distress. For that very reason, in a coincidence of opposites, her poetry is often “fulfilled, recumbent, big with seed.” According to the panel that awarded her the prize,

פדיה נעה בין אמונה עמוקה, כמעט נאיבית,

באל כל יכול ומקיף הכול,

עד לשיח אינטימי ומתגרה

עם בורא עולם על בריאתו הבלתי מושלמת בעליל.

Pedaya moves between deep, almost naïve faith
in an omnipotent, all-encompassing God,
and an intimate, provocative dialogue
with the creator of the world regarding his plainly imperfect creation.

    Pedaya’s poetry often takes the form of prayer. The poem I present below is entitled “strength.” Devoid of punctuation in the original, with lines of irregular length, its taut energy and daring inversions will burn on the ears of any reader familiar with Jewish prayer and expectation the springs of which are found in the Tanakh. Genesis 1:27; Psalms 19, 23, and 27; Habakkuk 2:3; and morning prayer - for example - stand in the background of “strength.” The poem was previously set in English by Harvey Bock and Peter Cole. With small success, I have sought in translation to allow the traditional springs of the poem to reach the surface.

 

כֹּחַ

אָנָּא בְּרֹךְ

אָנָּא בְּכֹחַ

תַּתִּיר נַפְשִׁי צְרוּרָה

אָנָּא גַּעְגּוּעִים וְהֶמְיָה

דְּרוּשִׁים לִי יוֹתֵר מִן הַקַּיִָּם

שֶׁאֶכְסֹף

אֲבָל שֶׁלֹּא אַפְסִיק לְבַקֵּשׁ

אָנָּא הַחְזֵר בִּי מִלִּים שֶׁנָּתַתָּ בִּי פַּעַם טְהוֹרוֹת

וְאֹמַר

אָנָּא רַחֵם

הַיּוֹם הַיּוֹם וְלֹא מָחָר

אָנָּא בַּשֵּׂר שֶׁגַּם אִם אֶתְמַהְמֵהַ

בּוֹא אָבוֹא

וּבִדְבָרִים עַצְמִי אֶתֵּן אָנָּא

זְכֹר אוֹתִי

עַל אֲשֶׁר אֵחַלְתִּיךָ לִי וָלֹא

עַל אֲשֶׁר אָדָם אֲנִי וּמֵת

עַל אֲשֶׁר קִירוֹת הַגּוּף נֶפֶשׁ מַכָּה

רוֹצָה תֵּעָקֵר

מַכָּה עַצְמַהּ צֹווַחַת

אָנָּא בָּרוּךְ

אָנָּא בָּרֵךְ אָנָּא

הָבֵן אוֹתִי שֶׁאֲנִי עֲרִירִית

שֶׁאֵין לִי לְמִי לְגַלּוֹת מַחֲלָתִי

שֶׁלֹּא הֵבַנְתִּי בִּזְמַן שֶׁגּוּפִי הוּא אֲנִי

וּכְשֶׁהֵבַנְתִּי לֹא יָדַעְתִּי נַפְשִׁי

לֹא מָצָאתִי מוֹצָא לַבֶּכִי כִּי יַכֶּה

כִּי אֵין

אָנָּא הָבֵן אוֹתִי שֶׁאֲנִי צְרִיכָה קְצָת זְמַן

לְחַשֵּׁב אֶת סִכּוּיֵי הַפְּרִיחָה

אִם יֵשָׁם עוֹד

וְשֶׁאֲנִי מֵאֵימָה נוֹבֶלֶת

וּבֹקֶר לְבֹקֶר מְקִיאָה

וְלַיְלָה לְלַיְלָה יְאַיֵּם גַּעַת

וְדַעַת שְׁאוֹל לִשְׁאוֹל יַגִּיעַ

וְאֵין לִי סִכּוּי עוֹד לִבְרֹא מִלִּים בְּצַלְמִי וּבְדָמִי

וְלָתֵת בָּהֵן נְשָׁמָה

אַחַת שָׁאַלְתִּי אוֹתָהּ אֲבַקֵּשׁ

שִבְתְּךָ בִּי תִּתְּךָ נְשָׁמָה

אַחַת בָּכִיתִי בְּזָכְרִי אוֹתִי

שֶׁאָז כְּשֶׁהִתְפַּלַּלְתִּי מְאוּם לֹא חָסַרְתִּי

וְעַתָּה שֶׁכְּלוּם לֹא אֹבֶה

הַכֹּל בִּי נִרְמַס אָנָּא חֹן אוֹתִי וְרַחֵם

בָּרְכֵם יָמַי טַהֲרֵם

כְּבַת גַּדְּלֵם בּוֹכָה עֲלֵי בָּבַת

אָנָּא אִם תּוּכַל

strength

please with gentleness
please with force
unwind my bound soul
please, groans and sighing
are sought by me more than what exists
that I may yearn
though nothing come,
that I not stop seeking nonetheless
please restore to me words you once put in me, pure
and I will say
please have mercy
today today not tomorrow
please give me the good news that even if I tarry
I will come
and I will put myself in things please

remember me
because I wished you for me, and not
because I am a human being, and dead
because the walls of the body a soul strikes
wishing it were uprooted
striking itself, crying out
please o blessed one
please bless please

know that I am destitute
that I have no one to whom I might reveal my sickness
that I did not understand in time that my body is me
and when I understood I did not know my self
I did not find an outlet for my crying when it strikes
because there is none

please, understand me, that I need some time
to calculate the chances of blossoming
if it will be still more devastating
and though from terror I wither
and morning by morning I vomit
and night to night threatens touch
and knowledge of the netherworld touches the netherworld
and I do not have a chance anymore of creating words in my image and in my blood
of putting breath in them

one thing I asked for, that will I seek
that you may dwell in me, give me breath
one thing I cry for when I remember myself
that when I prayed, of nothing I had want
and now that I do not desire anything
everything in me is trampled, please be gracious to me have mercy
bless my days make them pure
like a daughter make them strong crying over the apple of
please if you can

Source: מתיבה סתומה (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2002)

    Haviva Pedaya is a scholar of the origins of Jewish mysticism and Kabbalah. For Helit Jeshurun’s interview with Pedaya, translated by Peter Cole, go here. 

 

Comments

[Mitchell Powell]

My Hebrew's not where it ought to be, but given what I do know and your translation, that's a beautiful poem. Thank you for posting it. I continue to believe that poetry and theology are twins.