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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


      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.

     

     


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