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cremainsThere are some shitty poems about Ein Dor, such as Rudyard Kipling's:
I guess this actually does qualify as "the craziest road of all"
However, there are also some good ones. This is my translation of the poem In Ein Dor by Shaul Tchernikhovsky, on whose street I used to live. What I like about his retelling is how it turns Shemuel's question ("why did you disturb me") on its head, and how Shaul's military suicide grows long, dark roots.
in night's dark, no bow, no sword,
on a light horse king saul comes to ein dor.
a dim flame appears in one of the houses.
the youth mouths to him: that's where she lives.
---are you the necromancer? ---yes, that's me.
---conjure me spirits, show me shadows - please.
black gloom, horror-fire, bubbling in the corner,
names of demons, a boiling in the night.
coils of smoke creep and vanish
like snakes uncurling in the grass of Bashan.
the king stands uneasy
in the smeared sulphur circle.
dark form and shadow unhinge.
his cheeks drain out sweat.
his breath is soft, his thoughts in mourning.
his heart melts down in visions of death.
his life closes and opens like a play.
let me go, he whispers.
black gloom, horror-fire, the silence of waste,
the conjuring circle, roiling fumes.
but the king remembers Geva and his youth,
his world in spring, before the skies spoiled.
he sees it in breathless pictures:
the soft, wide earth, grazing cows,
the blue height of the fading sky, smells of eden,
and under the terebinth, a strength like branches.
he was a shepherd, then, vanishingly young;
the cattle grazed in front of him.
still whole, still kind, still bright, still beautiful,
and the flock-bells clanged sweet.
---i am rich, healthy, no, overjoyed,
but
will no one let me
go back?
panic chokes his heart
and his throat clogs up his crying.
suddenly, a storm-strong voice cracks
the pupil of the darkness, an electric rip:
--I, the seer, anointed you king;
I pulled you from the cattle, sat you down in palaces.
why did you raise me from rotting tunnels
to the land of the living?
---why did you take me from my flocks,
and place me before your people?
I spent my strength in wars
and sat at home, my thoughts a wasteland.
surrounded, I was in terror of death,
but melancholy pushed me closer and closer.
man of God, how can you answer me?
when the pain presses me, what else can I do?
why anoint me king of your people,
why take me from my animals?
--God is punishing you
for rebellion and pride. tomorrow, you'll be with me.
at the morning watch, no bow, no sword,
on a light horse king saul returns to camp,
his face pale, his heart fearless,
in the whites of his eyes a glorious despair.
Oh the road to En-dor is the oldest road
And the craziest road of all
Straight it runs to the Witch’s abode,
As it did in the days of Saul
I guess this actually does qualify as "the craziest road of all"
However, there are also some good ones. This is my translation of the poem In Ein Dor by Shaul Tchernikhovsky, on whose street I used to live. What I like about his retelling is how it turns Shemuel's question ("why did you disturb me") on its head, and how Shaul's military suicide grows long, dark roots.
in night's dark, no bow, no sword,
on a light horse king saul comes to ein dor.
a dim flame appears in one of the houses.
the youth mouths to him: that's where she lives.
---are you the necromancer? ---yes, that's me.
---conjure me spirits, show me shadows - please.
black gloom, horror-fire, bubbling in the corner,
names of demons, a boiling in the night.
coils of smoke creep and vanish
like snakes uncurling in the grass of Bashan.
the king stands uneasy
in the smeared sulphur circle.
dark form and shadow unhinge.
his cheeks drain out sweat.
his breath is soft, his thoughts in mourning.
his heart melts down in visions of death.
his life closes and opens like a play.
let me go, he whispers.
black gloom, horror-fire, the silence of waste,
the conjuring circle, roiling fumes.
but the king remembers Geva and his youth,
his world in spring, before the skies spoiled.
he sees it in breathless pictures:
the soft, wide earth, grazing cows,
the blue height of the fading sky, smells of eden,
and under the terebinth, a strength like branches.
he was a shepherd, then, vanishingly young;
the cattle grazed in front of him.
still whole, still kind, still bright, still beautiful,
and the flock-bells clanged sweet.
---i am rich, healthy, no, overjoyed,
but
will no one let me
go back?
panic chokes his heart
and his throat clogs up his crying.
suddenly, a storm-strong voice cracks
the pupil of the darkness, an electric rip:
--I, the seer, anointed you king;
I pulled you from the cattle, sat you down in palaces.
why did you raise me from rotting tunnels
to the land of the living?
---why did you take me from my flocks,
and place me before your people?
I spent my strength in wars
and sat at home, my thoughts a wasteland.
surrounded, I was in terror of death,
but melancholy pushed me closer and closer.
man of God, how can you answer me?
when the pain presses me, what else can I do?
why anoint me king of your people,
why take me from my animals?
--God is punishing you
for rebellion and pride. tomorrow, you'll be with me.
at the morning watch, no bow, no sword,
on a light horse king saul returns to camp,
his face pale, his heart fearless,
in the whites of his eyes a glorious despair.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-07 12:31 pm (UTC)If you get sufficiently bored of unemployment, maybe you could collect some of your poems together into a book or website? It's such good poetry, but so scattered and hard to find.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-07 04:27 pm (UTC)This was a really sweet comment that made my day, so thank you.