טוט אַ שלײַדער מיך צום בעט און דעקט מיך צו,
Flings me to the bed and covers me,
Work 106 of 440
Page 121. 'In the Wakeful Hour' conclusion: Sleep flings the speaker to bed and covers him; only then does he hear the beloved calling 'where are you?' All night she sits chained to her chair, calling without waking him. At dawn her call falls silent — that silence frightens him awake. But all is already over: hasty feet chase out, only the wine glass stands full and the empty chair rocks. The beloved as ghost visitor who departs at dawn. 'Sharp Pains' (Sharfe Veytikn): A poem of extreme masochism rooted in Leivick's prison experience. Sharp pains have drawn the speaker; he begs: cut out my eyes, tear out my tongue. Boring to live this way. He remembers being beaten with rods, while a second and third prisoner waits their turn. Thrown into the cellar, he hears his own lips say: 'I want new sufferings, come quickly.' In hope for new sufferings he lies cradled, his lips speaking: 'Smile to your kingdom, blessed one.' Suffering as the only realm the prisoner can rule.
טוט אַ שלײַדער מיך צום בעט און דעקט מיך צו,
דאַן דערהער איך ערשט: דו רופֿסט — וואו ביסטו, וואו?
אין דער פֿינצטערניש אַלײן, צום שטול געשמידט,
זיצסטו אָפּ די נאַכט און רופֿסט, — דערוועקסט מיך ניט.
אַז עס גרויט דער נײַער טאָג, ווערט שטום דײַן רוף,
יענע שטומעניש דערשרעקט און וועקט מיך אויף.
ווי איך עפֿן נאָר אַן אויג איז אַלץ שוין אויס —
האַסטיק, הער איך, יאָגן פֿיס פֿון שטוב אַרויס.
אָנגעגאָסן שטייט מיט ווײַן דאָס גלעזל פֿול,
וויגט זיך נאָך פֿון ראַשן שטעל דער לערער שטול.
שאַרפֿע ווייטיקן
שאַרפֿע ווייטיקן — זיי האָבן מיך געצויגן
און דערפֿאַר בין איך צו דיר געקומען;
שנײַד אַרויס פֿון שטערן מײַנע אויגן
רײַס אַרויס מײַן צונג מיר פֿונעם גומען.
לאַנגווײַליק איז מיר אַזוי צו לעבן.
איך דערמאָן זיך רגעס: — שמיץ פֿון ריטער
בלוטיקן דאָס לײַב, און דאָ דערנעבן
שטייט און וואַרט אַ צווייטער און אַ דריטער.
אַלע ווערן מיר דערנאָך געטראָגן
און אַרײַנגעוואָרפֿן אין דער טיף אין קעלער, —
הער איך ווי די ליפּן מײַנע זאָגן:
— נײַע לײַדן וויל איך. קומט וואָס שנעלער.
אין דער האָפֿענונג אויף נײַע לײַדן
ליג איך אויפֿן דיל אַן אײַנגעוויגטער,
הער איך ווי די ליפּן מײַנע רעדן:
— שמייכל צו דײַן קעניגרײַך, באַגליקטער.
Tut a shlayder mikh tsum bet un dekt mikh tsu,
dan derher ikh ersht: du rufst — vu bistu, vu?
In der fintsternish aleyn, tsum shtul geshmidet,
zitstu op di nakht un rufst, — dervekst mikh nit.
Az es groyt der nayer tog, vert shtum dayn ruf,
yene shtumenish dershrekht un vekht mikh oyf.
Vi ikh efn nor an oyg iz alts shoyn oys —
hastik, her ikh, yogn fis fun shtub aroys.
Ongegosn shteyt mit vayn dos glezl ful,
vigt zikh nokh fun rashn shtel der leerer shtul.
Sharfe Veytikn
Sharfe veytikn — zey hobn mikh getsoygn
un derfar bin ikh tsu dir gekumen;
shnayd aroys fun shtern mayne oygn
rays aroys mayn tsung mir funem gumen.
Langvaylik iz mir azoy tsu lebn.
Ikh dermon zikh reges: — shmits fun riter
blutikn dos layb, un do dernebn
shteyt un vart a tsveyter un a driter.
Ale vern mir dernokh getrogn
un arayngеvоrfn in der tif in keler, —
her ikh vi di lipn mayne zogn:
— Naye laydn vil ikh. Kumt vos shneler.
In der hofеnung oyf naye laydn
lig ikh oyfn dil an ayngеvigter,
her ikh vi di lipn mayne redn:
— Shmeykhel tsu dayn kenigraykh, baglikter.
Flings me to the bed and covers me,
then I first hear: you call — where are you, where?
In the darkness alone, chained to the chair,
you sit out the night and call — you don't wake me.
When the new day dawns, your call grows mute,
that muteness frightens and wakes me.
As I open just an eye, all is already over —
hastily, I hear, feet chase out of the house.
Filled with wine the full glass stands,
the empty chair still rocks from the quick rising.
Sharp Pains
Sharp pains — they have drawn me
and therefore I have come to you;
cut out from my forehead my eyes
tear out my tongue from my palate.
Boring is it for me to live like this.
I remember moments: — blows from rods
bloodied the body, and here nearby
stands and waits a second and a third.
We are all afterward carried
and thrown into the deep into the cellar —
I hear how my lips say:
— New sufferings I want. Come quickly.
In the hope for new sufferings
I lie on the floor cradled,
I hear how my lips speak:
— Smile to your kingdom, blessed one.
Page 121. 'In the Wakeful Hour' conclusion: Sleep flings the speaker to bed and covers him; only then does he hear the beloved calling 'where are you?' All night she sits chained to her chair, calling without waking him. At dawn her call falls silent — that silence frightens him awake. But all is already over: hasty feet chase out, only the wine glass stands full and the empty chair rocks. The beloved as ghost visitor who departs at dawn. 'Sharp Pains' (Sharfe Veytikn): A poem of extreme masochism rooted in Leivick's prison experience. Sharp pains have drawn the speaker; he begs: cut out my eyes, tear out my tongue. Boring to live this way. He remembers being beaten with rods, while a second and third prisoner waits their turn. Thrown into the cellar, he hears his own lips say: 'I want new sufferings, come quickly.' In hope for new sufferings he lies cradled, his lips speaking: 'Smile to your kingdom, blessed one.' Suffering as the only realm the prisoner can rule.
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