ווען וועסטו קומען
When will you come
Work 115 of 440
Page 130. 'Drowsy Little Boy' conclusion: When will you come to be with me? The lullaby becomes an invitation to death — the dead father calling his child to join him. 'The Hand of God' (Di Hant fun Got): A shattering theological poem. God's hand lies somewhere cut, somewhere hacked. The speaker wanted to protect himself, sits behind bolted doors. Like pieces of a cut snake that throw themselves apart, God's hand pieces hurl about, and each hurling opens final wonders, breaks down the speaker's walls. Now he guards himself from no one, calls to the man seeking his final prey. God's hand is severed; the speaker is like snake-pieces in blood and dust. A vision of divine impotence during catastrophe. 'Blind Fogs' (Blinde Tumanen): Strain your eyes, quicken steps — earth is covered with blind fogs. He who is above will lift no one through these fogs; he who is below stands bound, a blind one in blind fogs. Neither God nor man can see or save.
ווען וועסטו קומען
מיט מיר שוין צו זײַן?
דרעמלענדער ייִנגעלע,
ייִנגעלע מײַן.
די האַנט פֿון גאָט
די האַנט פֿון גאָט ליגט ערגעץ־וואו צעשניטן,
די האַנט פֿון גאָט ליגט ערגעץ־וואו צעהאַקט —
און איך — איך האָב געוואָלט מײַן קאָפּ פֿאַרהיטן —
איך זיץ מיט טיר און טויערן פֿאַרהאַקט.
ווי שטיקער פֿון אַ שלאַנג, וואָס וואַרפֿן זיך באַזונדער,
אַזוי אויך שליידערן זיך אום די שטיקער פֿון גאָטס האַנט,
און יעדער שליידער עפֿנט אויף די לעצטע וואונדער,
צעעפֿענען זיי אויך מײַן אָפּגעצאַמטע וואַנט.
איצט טו איך שוין פֿון קיינעם זיך נישט היטן.
איך רוף דעם מאַן, וואָס זוכט זײַן לעצטע רויב:
די האַנט פֿון גאָט ליגט ערגעץ־וואו צעשניטן.
און איך — ווי שטיקער פֿון אַ שלאַנג אין בלוט און שטויב.
בלינדע טומאַנען
שטרענג אָן דײַנע אויגן.
פֿאַרגיכער די שפּאַנען.
די ערד איז פֿאַרצויגן
מיט בלינדע טומאַנען.
און דער, וואָס איז אויבן,
וועט קיינעם פֿון דאַנען
צו זיך נישט דערהייבן
דורך בלינדע טומאַנען.
און דער, וואָס איז אונטן,
וועט שטיין ווי געשטאַנען
אַ בלינדער געבונדן
אין בלינדע טומאַנען.
Ven vestu kumen
mit mir shoyn tsu zayn?
Dremlender yingele,
yingele mayn.
Di Hant fun Got
Di hant fun got ligt ergets-vu tseshnitn,
di hant fun got ligt ergets-vu tsehakt —
un ikh — ikh hob gevolt mayn kop farhitn —
ikh zits mit tir un toyern farhakt.
Vi shtiker fun a shlang, vos varfn zikh bazunder,
azoy oykh shlaydern zikh um di shtiker fun gots hant,
un yeder shlayder efnt oyf di letste vunder,
tseefenen zey oykh mayn opgetsamte vant.
Itst tu ikh shoyn fun keynem zikh nisht hitn.
Ikh ruf dem man, vos zukht zayn letste royb:
di hant fun got ligt ergets-vu tseshnitn.
Un ikh — vi shtiker fun a shlang in blut un shtoyb.
Blinde Tumanen
Shtreng on dayne oygn.
Fargikher di shpanen.
Di erd iz fartsоygn
mit blinde tumanen.
Un der, vos iz оybn,
vet keynem fun danen
tsu zikh nisht derheybn
durkh blinde tumanen.
Un der, vos iz untn,
vet shteyn vi geshtanen
a blinder gebundn
in blinde tumanen.
When will you come
to be with me already?
Drowsy little boy,
my little boy.
The Hand of God
The hand of God lies somewhere cut,
the hand of God lies somewhere hacked —
and I — I wanted to protect my head —
I sit with door and gates bolted shut.
Like pieces of a snake that throw themselves apart,
so too the pieces of God's hand hurl themselves about,
and every hurling opens up the final wonders,
they open up also my fenced-off wall.
Now I no longer guard myself from anyone.
I call the man who seeks his final prey:
the hand of God lies somewhere cut.
And I — like pieces of a snake in blood and dust.
Blind Fogs
Strain your eyes.
Quicken your steps.
The earth is covered
with blind fogs.
And he who is above
will no one from here
lift up to himself
through blind fogs.
And he who is below
will stand as stood
a blind one bound
in blind fogs.
Page 130. 'Drowsy Little Boy' conclusion: When will you come to be with me? The lullaby becomes an invitation to death — the dead father calling his child to join him. 'The Hand of God' (Di Hant fun Got): A shattering theological poem. God's hand lies somewhere cut, somewhere hacked. The speaker wanted to protect himself, sits behind bolted doors. Like pieces of a cut snake that throw themselves apart, God's hand pieces hurl about, and each hurling opens final wonders, breaks down the speaker's walls. Now he guards himself from no one, calls to the man seeking his final prey. God's hand is severed; the speaker is like snake-pieces in blood and dust. A vision of divine impotence during catastrophe. 'Blind Fogs' (Blinde Tumanen): Strain your eyes, quicken steps — earth is covered with blind fogs. He who is above will lift no one through these fogs; he who is below stands bound, a blind one in blind fogs. Neither God nor man can see or save.
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