Bilingual Poems Hebrew and English

By Mois Benarroch

"Benarroch tells us that the homeland is always somehwere else, not on maps, it is the smell of an orange tree in Granada on an evening that never existed." Jose Luis Garcia Martin, El Mundo, Spain. "One the best Israeli poets writing today." Natan Zach, haaretz, Israel. "The raging bull of Israeli literature." Yaron abituv, Kol Hazman, march 2001. "Benarroch opens a world of emotions, where there is a place for the stupidity of people and their decisions against minorities, and allis done with good poetry." Antonio Luis Gines, Cuadernos Del Sur, Spain "Benarroch transforms permanent exile, the impossibility to adapt and the eternal escape, into his vital poetics." Xulio Valcarcel, El ideal gallego, Spain "Benarroch seems to hold in his hands not only the world, but also the memory of the world as well." Julia Uceda. Introduction to "Esquina En Tetuan".Benarroch was awarded the prime minister literary prize in 2008, and the Yehuda Amichai poetry prize in 2012.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mois Benarroch
• Release date: Jul 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393615187

Mois Benarroch

"MOIS BENARROCH es el mejor escritor sefardí mediterráneo de Israel." Haaretz, Prof. Habiba Pdaya.

Book preview

Buildings

It may be wealth, it may be poverty after it,

maybe the hundred years old buildings

haunted by shadows of dying people

by screams of pain

it may be the weather and the cold air

the long winters

it may be all these together;

people here become more

cold and more mean from day to day

without paying attention, step by step

they gave up on smiling, on laughing

on the word happiness

negative feelings fill them

as an aura around their bodies.

In this city the sun

won’t shine anymore.

בניינים

אוּלַי זֶה הָעֹשֶׁר, אוּלַי הָעֹנִי שֶׁבָּא אַחֲרָיו,

אוּלַי הַבִּנְיָנִים בְּנֵי מֵאוֹת שָׁנִים

אוּלַי הַצְלָלִים שֶׁל מֵתִים

הַמְלֵאִים בִּצְעָקוֹת שֶׁל כְּאֵב

אוּלַי זֶה מֶזֶג הָאֲוִיר הַקַר

הֶחֳרָפִים הָאֲרֻכִּים

אוּלַי כָּל אֵלֶה יַחַד

אַךְ הָאֲנָשִׁים כָּאן הוֹלְכִים וְנַעֲשִׂים

קָרִים וְרָעִים מִיוֹם לַיוֹם

בְּלִי לָשִׂים לֵב, צַעַד אַחַר צַעַד

מִזְמַן הֵם וִתְרוּ עַל הַחִיוּךְ, עַל הַצְחוֹק

עַל הַמִלָה אֹשֶׁר

רְגָשׁוֹת שְׁלִילִיִים מְכַסִים אוֹתָם כְּהִלָה

בְּעִיר הַזֹאת הַשֶׁמֶשׁ

לֹא תִזְרַח יוֹתֵר.

The death of a city

You can see everything is dying here

because poetry is dead

you can see everything is dying here

when you read the language

there is not one word, not one sentence

that doesn’t pretend to mean something else

and that something else

is related to something else that someone said

and the sentences become longer and longer

never ending, even the poetry

is written in prose.

And there is not one person

who can say

one clear sentence

you can see everything is dying

because the language is dead.

מותה של עיר

אַתָה יָכֹל לִרְאוֹת שֶׁהַכֹּל מֵת כָּאן

כִּי הַשִׁירָה מֵתָה

אַתָה יָכֹל לִרְאוֹת שֶׁהַכֹּל מֵת כָּאן

כְּשֶׁאַתָה קוֹרֵא אֶת הַשָׂפָה

אֵין מִלָה אַחַת, מִשְׁפָּט אֶחָד

שֶׁלֹא מִתְיַמֵר לוֹמַר מַשֶׁהוּ אַחֵר

וְהַמַשֶׁהוּ אַחֵר הַזֶה קָשׁוּר

לַמִישֶׁהוּ אוֹ לַמַשֶׁהוּ אַחֵר שֶׁמִישֶׁהוּ אָמַר

וְהַמִשְׁפָּטִים נַעֲשִׂים אֲרֻכִּים

לְלֹא סוֹף, אֲפִלוּ הַשִׁירָה

נִכְתֶבֶת בִּפְּרוֹזָה

וְאֵין אֶחָד שֶׁיוּכַל לוֹמַר

מִשְׁפָּט אֶחָד בָּרוּר

אַתָה יָכֹל לִרְאוֹת שֶׁהַכֹּל מֵת

כִּי הַשָׂפָה מֵתָה.

Take Me to the Sea

Take me to the sea

the land is drying my throat

take me to the sea

by hand, by foot,

by plane or by train

take me to the sea

the waters will heal my wounds,

my skin that refuses to

communicate with the world

the cold sea will cure

my ears that won't hear

the