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Weep, My Heart

  Zeev Kachel, 1988

  Weep, my heart, with not a tear

  In the dark, in secret

  Let no one see me, for I fear

  Their scheme, their plot, their threat

  Let the traitors never see me

  Those who mock me now

  Let them not pretend to save me

  That I won't allow

  Behind my back, those gossipmongers

  I sense them point at me

  The fools, I hear them in large numbers

  Laughing at my calamity

 

  Not to Think

  Zeev Kachel, 1988

  The place has sunk in darkness, almost dead

  One light's out there, flickering in that window

  You're here across the bed, eagle spread

  She out there, in her home, waiting for you

  Strange, too!

  You're lying here, and on your head—the pillow.

  In your brain, thoughts keep turning, grinding

  How to lift the darkness?

  How not to think?

  Like flesh off a prey, you at yourself keep tearing

  If only you could love again, again you could caress—

 

  I’m Not Sorry

  Zeev Kachel, 1988

  I'm not sorry for the hours that I wasted

  Suspended in my dreams and idle thought

  I'm not sorry for the days I ruined

  The only thing I care about is the luster I did blot

  I care that that’s the way our lives are going

  In power games, for which we'll pay the price,

  I ache, because of our misunderstanding

  Because that which is between us turned hard as ice

  I care nothing for the roses that have withered

  Over their fleeting fragrance I will shed no tears

  What pains me now is the way I hurt you

  And that if I ask forgiveness, no one hears

  No way to settle this, to heal the cuts

  In this world there's a price for everything

  The echo of our steps is the witness left behind us

  As the light that glowed upon us is already blackening.

 

  Not One is Home

  Zeev Kachel, 1987

  Two apartments I own—not one is home

  I have acquaintances, among whom I'm alone

  And a laurel wreath, with thorns around my dome.

  I've cast in the anchor

  And yet, I'm far blown

  My arrogance is buried, my stupidity too

  I've climbed higher than my ladder would allow

  Wrapped in a different garb I walked among you

  But fell short of reaching heaven, somehow

  I had a shock of hair, but now completely bald

  My feathers have been plucked off, one by one

  I built a nest, where now a guest I’m called

  With the crowd I march away, undone

 

  Your Advocate, Your Voice

  Zeev Kachel, 1989

  I've been your advocate, your voice

  Against my own allegations that be

  You pulled sideways, or so I imagined; by choice

  I’ll blame no one else now but me.

  Where's the hand for which I've been waiting

  The hand of the one under a mask

  My savior, for whom I've been praying

  When would he execute me, I ask?

  I bolted and chained every lock here

  Thinking of the noose he would tie

  So weary am I, suspended in fear

  Dreading to live or to die.

 

  My Girl of Innocence, from Time to Time

  Zeev Kachel, 1990

  Accept regards from a lonely wolf like me

  Regards sent without a single word

  At the end of the day, a cost dispute is but poverty,

  Again here comes the Sabbath, and we are separate.

  Four years have passed since the day you left home

  And in the closet hangs a single dress,

  It’s nightfall. There sits the Prince of Verse

  Surrounded by four walls, entirely alone.

  What have you solved there?

             You too alone each evening

  Facing that stupid TV, there you stare:

  A cost dispute, like a double sword, is cutting      

  Inflicting injuries on either side.               

  A newborn wonders about our strange existence

  And someone thinks, for what purpose was he born?

  Do you still remember our bouts of silence?

  Descending here again comes Sabbath Queen, forlorn

  Gone are those days of anger, of blind jealousy

  And something inside me has vanished in its prime

  If sadness has passed away, so soon will felicity

  My girl of innocence, from time to time

 

  My Ties Unhitched

  Zeev Kachel, 1988

  My ties unhitched, now I am glum.

  A tad sad, to be neglected

  Today I celebrated being lonesome

  My joy was somewhat limited.

  Sit here with me, and let us talk

  Of what was gained, what lost, and why

  Let us somehow try, take stock

  You're confused, and so am I

  Please tell me something more about you

  The problems, the family

  Of all your friends, who remained true

  And who turned his back on your agony?

  I'm so exhausted of the journey

  I can muster no more strength

  All this is claptrap, it’s all but corny

  Every kin—a stranger, at arm's length

  I’m left to my own soul searching

  Yet taking account I find so hard

  I’d rather send my soldiers charging:

  Load mud into the artillery; bombard!

  Chiribim-chiribom, all's upside

  What is left for me to try?

  Life is but a suicide

  Not even worth a single sigh.

 

  We Met Here

  Zeev Kachel

  We met here for a fleeting moment

  Bonded by a glance, which now is absent:

  Again you're gone, again not here. Bereft

  Of having you, alone I'm left

 

  Somewhere There

  Zeev Kachel

  Somewhere there, are you too crouching in a corner

  Recalling me to mind, your eye agleam?

  Or have you forgotten me, in love no longer

  Are you thinking now: that was but a dream

 

  In My Dream I Hear

  Zeev Kachel, 1989

  In my dream I hear your voice, the voice I lack

  You're here beside me. You care for me, you’ve come back

  And that deceitful shadow moved away, no longer black...

  We're back together, just like in the past

  The heart's aglow, no darkness, at long last—

 

  Another Time

  Zeev Kachel, 1988

  Another time, in another town

  Faraway from here, on some other shore,

  Like a memory you go down

  Under a foreign sky that can’t soar

  Facing the sea I sit in darkness

  Upon a single bench, there on the beach

  And then, then I dream: perhaps happiness

  Will again emerge from out of reach

  Infinity, shine upon me... I beseech.

 

  Never have the Days

  Zeev Kachel, 1989

  Never have the days passed by so slowly

  Never has time crawled, ever so frightfully

  The bad time, it stretches on, up to no end

  The good
time fleets, like lightning you can't wend.

  And what shall we remember? Both times as yet

  One day, perhaps, good and bad we'll regret

 

  We Pass

  Zeev Kachel

  We pass by each other without speaking, dumbly

  We look at each other—blindly

  Loneliness crying out of our eyes

  But we keep on, silently.

  Each one of us carrying a load

  Each one suffering, utterly slowed

  Each one going on, down this road

  See there, a couple just passed in embrace.

  We used to walk this way, do you still remember?

  You looked forward to my coming.

  In the midst of spring blossom, here's the sorrow of fall.

  And the recognition that it's all over.

  Today, between us came a wall.

  Now, never to return, life has all

  But passed. That is fall.

  No one to shake a hand, no one to give a nod.

  You and me, through this isolation we plod.

  It's fall: all flawed.

 

  Glass Eyes

  Zeev Kachel

  We pass each other

  As if strangers, in disguise

  We look at each other

  Out of glass eyes

  We pass each other

  Unable to hear

  Our hearts crying out, brother!

  Give a hand, come here!

  Our ears blocked to hearing

  And the heart—in a foreskin

  Who was that? Just a trace of something

  Not a human, not a kin

  Please, do not fear me,

  It's not your purse I want; please stay

  Tomorrow is as empty

  As yesterday

  Among a bustling crowd I stare

  Searching for just one friend,

  And none is there.

  Not one. A bitter end.

  Here passes a 'replacement'

  Casting a look. Again

  Your prayers were in vain.

 

  Not in Good Spirits

  Zeev Kachel, 1988

  Today I am not in good spirits   

  Today I will laugh at myself,

  Against me I will lay all my bets

  And come face to face with myself

  Today I’m sad, my heart beats

  In vain will I search for a friend,       

  Today I will wander the streets

  And into temptations descend.

  Soon night will fall, it will blacken

  My own hand I’ll see only barely,

  As always I’ll go on, forsaken                         

  Before long I shall no longer be

  Will my friends talk of me with contempt

  Will she listen? I am betrayed,

  Will they pass me by and attempt                  

  To evade me in the grand masquerade?

 

  Crossroad

  Zeev Kachel, 1990

  At a crossroad here I stand

  I kick the past, I kick it, and

  I find my lodging somewhere near

  I find that I am not quite here         

  I am not here, I am not there                   

  Not awake, not asleep, unable to bear

  And you, a dove, will fly away

  Will not return come spring day

  The blessed moments don’t return

  I’ve ruined everything, my life I spurn

  The hours pass, here comes the night

  The day is gone, are you alright?

  I’m not alive, I am not dead

  I kick the past, and on I tread.

 

  No Need to Worry Anymore

  Zeev Kachel, 1988

  No need to worry anymore

  It’s all coming to an end

  No need to rage anymore.

  Silence's here, 'bout to descend.

  Only the notes of the piano

  Are trembling here, in the still

  No need to sob anymore

  It’s a world of deceit

  Weeping here is the mandolin

  Wailing is the string

  This evening’s reward is the bitterness of night

  I’ll never understand why I'm fated to blight

 

  A Different Man

  Zeev Kachel, 1992

  I'm a different man today.

  Not the one you know

  You can come back

  If you will.

  I'm a different man today, without a hat I go

  But in my heart—there's still.

  I'm a different man.

  Just the way you preferred

  I fulfilled your wish

  Wandering along your street without a word

  Looking for you—in vain, in anguish.

  I'm different today.

  Not the man you left.

  Not pressuring anyone—

  The way you wanted me to be,

  Just looking for you everywhere—

  But you, a stranger, moving on

  And after all—you have been wishing well for me

  .

  I am different—

  Not the one you know

  You can come back

  Just confirm

  I am different—

  Not raging anymore

  But in my heart—a worm.

  I'm different today—

  Refraining from correcting everything.

  Silent, not a word

  My journey at its end:

  Time to go back, here I'm done...

  I won’t bother anyone.

 

  Everything has Long Lost Its Weight

  Zeev Kachel, 1988

  Everything has long lost its weight:

  Wife, and values, and stock

  All that's left is a confused haze of fate

  A night with no time and no clock

  Left here is a pensive old man

  Consumed by the waves, shelled, expelled

  And also your dear memory, then

  That suddenly sprouted and swelled

 

  Should I Fall

  Zeev Kachel, 1985

  Should I fall, stranger's hands will lift me,

  Take me to a place, who knows where

  Only celestial bodies from afar will follow me

  And a garden bench will mourn me, lonely and bare.

  A bench where I sat will be left there, behind

  As orphaned as I am, down in the meadow

  And the figure with whom I became one in my mind

  Will not happen to pass by, nor take in the echo

  Should I fall.

 

  Now I Cry

  Zeev Kachel, 1992

  Now I cry but not with tears; inside

  After long, long years

        Of holding it

  Now I cry

         Out of a burst of pain

  And howl in darkness out of loneliness

  Now I give my pain its full release

  With no shame, no stops. Dead hopeless

  Tired. Tired of life

  Tired of people

           Of betrayals, of being double-crossed

  I am tired.

  The phone is silent.

               No one calls anymore

  The wall in front of me speaks, its language—hard

  The phone is silent.

              No one cares anymore

  The only sound amidst the silence is writing in my mind.

 

  When Life Becomes a Curse

  Zeev Kachel, 1990

  When life becomes a curse                            

  Like a stone-mill you must heft ?
?                  

  No one's here to ask for help

  Not a single friend is left

  Then your soul is bitter, cleft.

  The children flew, one far, one distant...

  Four walls, the home is vacant            

  How can you hug her, she is absent                       

  No one left but memories

  Then the heavy burden slaps

  A man on the verge of his collapse.

 

  Without a Compass

  Zeev Kachel, 1974

  A sad story about a happy man, a man who

  Loved poems, women, and a calm core

  A sad story that crashed against the cliff, crashed onto

  A cold, indifferent shore

  Hey, captain of our fates, let your hand be firm

  Amidst the torque of time, amidst the murk

  Navigate our ship through this night, this storm

  Towards the light that beacons from the dark

  Save us from the gulf deep here within us

  And from a smile that bares sharp teeth

  Give us strength to withstand our faults, our weakness

  Against ourselves give us a shield, a sheath

  Oh God! The sunrise comes upon us

  But inside—still night, without a compass

 

  The Wolf

  Zeev Kachel, 1970

  Fini la comédie! Adieu, dear friends!

  The spectators wipe their noses... I'm all yours!

  Like a philosopher, the body now contends

  With a damp grave, and worms, scores and scores

  No wails, my friends, and no fake sympathy

  Nothing do I want, no one do I miss

  Please, no crocodile tears, and no fake eulogy,

  In front of a silent grave, no praise, no hiss

  The wolf, he's alone, once more.

  Amongst the crowd of mourners

  Here are the frog, the snake, the jackal I abhor

  Pretty lizards, a worm in the corner,

  And one blue wolf, so sore.

  Let the sea under my headstone forever hum and spread,

  Let the wind thrum, strum my mandolin

  And let the moonlight gently kiss the forehead

  That pondered love, and so alone has been.

 

  The Easiest Demise

  Zeev Kachel, 1993

  Oh Wind, where will you carry me

  Toward what fate, what shore, what bay?

  Will I be dropped to an open sea

  Or else become an eagle’s prey?

  For what is death? I can’t tell

  How beastly, really, might it be?

  They say that death will never fell      

  A young-old person such as me.

  And so, who knows? I have no answer

  No need to trust all those deceits,

  Lift me slowly, oh wind, oh mother

  Or I’ll take cover under sheets

  Perhaps it’s better to seek protection

  Across the ocean, in a distant town?

  I have a passport, a profession

  Can apply some makeup, like a clown

  On the other hand, to live forever

  Is not so good and not preferred,

  And it’s not written in any charter

  What in my life still lies ahead

  All my acquaintances have long expired

  For me, I think, it is a sin,

  To be the last one is undesired

  I do not wish to lose my kin

  So if to die, then with no haggling

  I choose the easiest demise,

  A prayer, “God is full of pity”

  A headstone for a modest price

  With a rotating slab of granite!

  A splendid cantor, a deep voice too,

  The two trees, I say, cut down, just cut

  And let them not obscure my view.    

  Here’s how I wish to be interred:

  No eulogy at the graveside plot,                              

  Not nude; but with a flag, thus covered

  And never mind the proper spot             

  Across a stunning slab of granite   

  My name inscribed in golden letters

  There’s my poem, and my portrait

  A funeral procession during stormy hours

  The largest crowd with scores of cars

  Pretty women sob in abundant grief

  Wiping their nose with a handkerchief.

  Obituaries in the newspaper

  Some large, some small, both bold and dainty,

  And that is all. And with no torture.

  For now just bring me a cup of tea.

 

  Bent over Memories

  Zeev Kachel, 1988

  No longer will I carry you in my arms, little girl

  You grew up fast. And daddy’s back has bent.

          You learned to walk by yourself

  Yet for me you’ll always remain a baby

  Even though you’ve spread your wings, left the nest

  And your own nest built, somewhere out there.

  Now I am alone.

         Supported by memories...

  Sitting in the park for hours

         Watching someone else’s children.

  Time ticks slowly

          But it vanishes fast!

  And a seagull up above

          Soars overhead

  Oh, white-winged seagull         

          Carry my prayer

  Faraway over the interval

          To the roof shielding my daughter.

 

  I Plucked a Wildflower

  Zeev Kachel, 1993

  I plucked a wildflower from my resting place

  And it was blue, as if it wore my name, my face

  But I was startled suddenly by a snake

  Who slinked across the path with one tail shake

  I plucked a wildflower from my grave, behind

  And in silence, my daughter came to mind

  Where are you now? The wave swept you away

  In a velvety evening, an eve of dew and ray

  I was penetrated by a pouring rain

  And for a moment, somehow, I felt alive again

  Sensing me, the worms began to rave

  I plucked a wildflower from my grave.

  And a chorus of crickets kicked off a singsong

  Climbing up the wall I danced away, so long!

  There's no death in life, no need to feel so sad,

  I would've come back already if it were all that bad

  There were a few I didn't know among the mourners

  I asked myself where they came from, what far corners

  The crowd was small, such pity! Some were sad

  To those who cried, I smiled and waved a tad.

  I left countless bills behind me, heavy debts

  Come over, I'll pay them back, you bet!

  I stare at you across the big divide

  With obvious advantage: no interest on this side

 

  The Heart of Space

  Zeev Kachel, 1989

  I’ve laid down on my back

  And a horizontal logic

  Dictates its stages.

  I shut my eyes

  To watch my life, from lows to highs

  Go through its changes.

  Amidst the nightly surge

  I see myself submerge

  Afloat at the heart of space.

  With neither left or right

  Above, or down at base

  Time is about to take

  Its casualties.

  No seasons and no fighting

  Only dead silence hiding

  Its fallacies.

  The film of its changes
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  Plays out with no stop.

  And with no sign, no cue,

  In secret it starts to throb

  The future, breaking through

 

  I Live Here on Paint and on Toxoid

  Zeev Kachel, 1992

  I live here on paint and on toxoid

  My step faltering, against walls, against barriers

  Around me I see nature destroyed

  Replaced by some structures for settlers.

  I live here with no joy, no regret

  And scribble little rhymes just for me

  I live... No longer preach at the gate,

  Nor squash any ants carelessly.

  In their hiding place they seem to await

  And observe me, in all probability.

  I live with no account and no friend

  No longer try to right wrongs in the world,

  I cannot tell my future, my end

  Simply listen to the waves, to my heart.

  At set, prescribed times I just swallow

  Pills encoded by various pigments

  And let my mind labor to follow

  The secret paths of this universe.

  It is clear to me now: There is no amity

  There has never been any beginning,

  And all that is here, that is growing

  Was here and it always will be.

  In space there is no upper or lower  

  No right and no left all around, 

  The moment is here—no past, no forever

  There is no first, no last or well-found.

  Only an unending, unstoppable flow

  And shapes that are shifting at will

  There is no heaven, only hell and owe

  There is time, there is space, there is still.

  There is no happiness, no sorrow, no feeling

  Only waves dancing without and within

  In a struggle with no hatred, no foaming

  Without saints, without angels or sin.

  So call this entirety: Yin.

 

  The Time is Near

  Zeev Kachel, 1989

  The time is near

  The verdict—known

  I have no fear

  I shall go alone

 

  Fall

  Zeev Kachel, 1989

  Encircled by leaves, flying

  I'm afloat at last

  Somewhere a fire's dying

  Anther day about to pass

 

  Autumn’s Gold

  Zeev Kachel, 1989

  Autumn's gold is dripping from the trees

  And no one's gathering it

  Golden light escaping through my fingers, no way to seize

  No point in chasing it

 

  On My Body

  Zeev Kachel, 2000

  On my body, time leaves its traces

  On my body, time jots down its warnings

  My heart is throbbing—when will it stop?

  In it, time carves its phrases

  Time writes its verdict, then on it paces.

 

  Tired of Fighting

  Zeev Kachel, 2000

  Tired of battles, I wish to take a rest

  Under a green, lush tree

  I'll lie down, stretch and fall asleep in the bosom of Time,

  And the wind shall caress me

  And when the dream comes I'll say, now I see!

  Sweet vision, let me reach for you, embrace me as I dream.

 

  It All Passes

  Zeev Kachel

  It all passes: teacher after teacher,

  Parents, childhood, pain of knowledge,

  Friendship, love, with its fever

  School, going abroad, then college,

  Hunger, jobs of odds and ends

  Trying hard to earn dough

  Girls, women come and go...

  Finally silence here descends

  It all passes: the good, the bad

  Family, brothers, sisters,

  Meetings, farewells, glad and sad

  Enemies, war after war

  Hate, loathing, victims, gore

  And dreams of something you can't reach

  For peace to come, not just in speech

  Despite the criminal acts of war

  Despite the hatred for no reason

  Dreams of prophets' vision for

  Our heritage in a future season

 

  Maybe

  Zeev Kachel, 1989

  Maybe I’ll never reach the shore

  The shore, perhaps, never existed for me

  And the dream that I carried, that dream may call for

  Someone else to discover a new land, a new sea

  My hour may not have arrived yet, I'm worried.

  The seed that I planted has been blown off by a gust

  But this I know: the dream that I carried

  Will take root, it shall come to full blossom, it must

  Maybe I would leave here peculiar, unknown,

  Those of small stature would ignore me, these days

  But my poem, the one that was torn and blown

  One of these days shall set all ablaze

 

  Perhaps

  Zeev Kachel, 1989

  Perhaps poems would promise you nothing

  Perhaps poems are just a waste of time

  Perhaps the audience would deem them not fit to sing

  And try to define something else as sublime.

  Perhaps I'll be left here bald-headed, alone

  And no one will even remember my name

  But a yearning shall remain for something unknown

  And a search, never weary, for what’s far from the same

  Perhaps they will wrap with my poem a herring

  Unable to sense which one yields the flavor; and with force

  They will cast me right back into the sea, sparing

  Me, somehow, as a matter of course

 

  Maybe

  Zeev Kachel, 2001

  Maybe my boat shall never reach the shore

  Maybe I'll be forced down, into the abyss

  Or maybe I'll emerge, and with a sudden roar

  Unload my burden; no more of this.