Friday, April 12, 2013

Yom HaShoah, 5773, #2

Below you will find 2 poems. The first, Derj ov a Notsee (Dirge of a Nazi) is fairly close to the original, written many years ago, and found in my Song ov Elmallahz Kumming, Bouk 6. The second, Dethsong ov a Notsee, is sort of a doppelganger to the first, emerging as I edited and re-visioned the original. They now stand together in the manuscript, and are followed by the poem/prayer I posted on April 10 for Yom HaShoah. Perhaps they stand as a 3-part suite. As ever, your critique is welcome and desired.

Derj ov a Notsee

Uppon my gut strecht tite, this song
Iz playd in aggonee and fraetful dreem
Tu the Jewish God hu redeemz the week:

By day I kried aggenst Yu;
At nite I stoud aggast in my plase.
My life I bilt, morter and trowl,
Like a masen skillfulee layeeng hiz roez.
My Sole I kaerfulee konfiend in sin,
Layer on layer, blok after blok.

Arrownd me I am konstrukted a tume.
I kownted eech blok;
I am awware ov awl I hav dun.

I bilt a skaffoeld ov merder
But I lost the faeth tu klime it.
I hav lost the will tu kontinnew this triel.
Tho kawlen aggen for annuther blok,
I am tuu week tu muve it.
Iz this wut it meenz tu be ded?
Utherz bild tu annunther werld,
But me, I am ded alreddee.

But I am not slaen.
For then I mite entiyerlee sees
And nutheeng ov me remaen.
Insted, I dekay in a wakeeng dreem,
The sellz ov my boddee,
A korrus ov fyureez and ravenz.
Layer on layer abbuv my hed.
This, my rath, iz enklozen me;
I doent see a way tu be free.

Dethsong ov a Notsee

Tu that Jewish God,
That God ov lite,
He, hu we sot tu overthro.

Uppon my gut strecht tite, this song
Iz playn, it seengen thru my sellz:

By day I fite owwer wor aggenst Yu,
Followeeng kaerfullee laed owt planz.
I, a masen layeeng my roez,
Prowd and streng in my laberz.
But at nite I stand aggast in my plase,
Akkuesd ov sinz unnaemd.

My formen ashor me awl iz well
Az I bild battelments over my hed.
Duweeng my dutee, I kownt eech blok;
I am awware ov awl I hav dun
And I am toeld ware my werk will leed.

I bilt a skaffoeld abbuv my hed.
But at nite I lak the strenth tu klime.
I kawl aggen for the next blok
But I am tuu week to hoeld it.
Wy du I lak the strenth tu klime?
Utherz klime tu thaer nu life,
But me, I choek. I cannot breeth.

O, how I dred this niettime.
Awl my bildung, it louks like klodz
Ov klay dug up and ternd by a plow.
Will nun ov my werk remaen?
Will this niettime nevver end?

Donz the day and I waken frum dreem
But I kannot rize enneemor.
Awl my werk iz kolaps on me.
An immens kaern ov broken bloks
Iz krush the aer frum my lungz.

Now I see ware my werk iz led.
Evree sell ov my boddee is a blok,
Krushen me with thaer waet.
Evree stone iz a skreemen kers.
This, the song that iz made ov me
Wile I must krush eech stone tu dust.
But will I then fiend lite?

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