Poem
Israel Pincas
IN THE TRAIN WINDOW
It was someone elsein the window of the train to Ashford or Hastings,
a man in gray, I saw
only half his face
and I thought it was someone I knew
years ago and couldn’t recall.
Afterwards I had other thoughts, the sun was in
my eyes
and there were a few sheep in the meadow
on the right, and they seemed too pleased and not doubtful
like me, and continued to chew
the grass, until they also disappeared in the end.
These and other things banished the gray man from my heart.
His contours remained stamped in the dark chamber of my thoughts.
On the other hand, I recall a painter friend of mine
said that what we can do is copy
nature, approach it as closely as possible and not ask
for more.
Then I was very interested in his remarks.
I still think about them sometimes.
At the same time I think it’s worth emphasizing
that art was under discussion.
© Translation: 2013, Lisa Katz
בחלון הרכבת
בחלון הרכבת
זֶה הָיָה מִישֶׁהוּ אַחֵר
בְּחַלּוֹן הָרַכֶּבֶת לְאֶשׁפוֹרְד, אוֹ הֶסְטִינְגְס,
אָדָם בְּאָפֹר, רָאִיתִי
רַק אֶת מַחֲצִית פָּנָיו,
וְחָשַׁבְתִּי שֶׁהָיָה מִישֶׁהוּ שֶׁפָּעַם הִכַּרְתִּי
לִפְנֵי שָׁנִים, וְלֹא יָכֹלְתִּי לִזְכֹּר.
אַחַר-כָּךְ בָּאוּ מַחְשָׁבוֹת אֲחֵרוֹת וְשֶׁמֶשׁ נִכְנְסָה
לָעֵינַיִם,
וּכְבָשִׂים אֲחָדוֹת בַּשָּׂדֶה
מִיָּמִין, שֶׁנִּרְאוּ מְרֻצּוֹת לְמַדַּי וְלֹא חֲדוּרוֹת סְפֵקוֹת
כָּמוֹנִי, וְהִמְשִׁיכוּ לָכֵן לְלַחֵךְ
עֵשֶׂב, עַד שֶׁלִּבְסוֹף גַּם הֵן נֶעֶלְמוּ.
הַדְּבָרִים הָאֵלֶּה וַאֲחֵרִים הִשְׁכִּיחוּ אֶת הָאִישׁ הָאָפֹר מִלִּבִּי.
הַצְּדוּדִית שֶׁלּוֹ נִשְׁאֲרָה חֲתוּמָה בַּחֶדֶר הָאָפֵל שֶׁל מַחְשְׁבוֹתַי.
לְעֻמַּת זֹאת נִזְכַּרְתִּי בַּדְּבָרִים שֶׁפַּעַם אָמַר לִי יְדִידִי
הַצַּיָּר, שֶׁמַּה שֶׁנִּתַּן הוּא לְהַעֲתִיק אֶת
הַטֶּבַע, לְהִתְקָרֵב כְּכָל הָאֶפְשָׁר וְלֹא לְבַקֵּשׁ
לְמַעְלָה מִזֶּה.
דְּבָרָיו אָז עוֹרְרוּ בִּי עִנְיָן.
מִדֵּי פַּעַם אֲנִי עֲדַיִן מְהַרְהֵר בָּהֶם.
וְעִם זֶה רָאוּי אֲנִי חוֹשֵׁב לְהַדְגִּישׁ
כִּי בְּאָמָּנוּת הָיָה מְדֻבָּר.
© 1999, Even Hoshen
From: Mare Nostrum
Publisher: Even Hoshen, Rananna
From: Mare Nostrum
Publisher: Even Hoshen, Rananna
Poems
Poems of Israel Pincas
Close
IN THE TRAIN WINDOW
It was someone elsein the window of the train to Ashford or Hastings,
a man in gray, I saw
only half his face
and I thought it was someone I knew
years ago and couldn’t recall.
Afterwards I had other thoughts, the sun was in
my eyes
and there were a few sheep in the meadow
on the right, and they seemed too pleased and not doubtful
like me, and continued to chew
the grass, until they also disappeared in the end.
These and other things banished the gray man from my heart.
His contours remained stamped in the dark chamber of my thoughts.
On the other hand, I recall a painter friend of mine
said that what we can do is copy
nature, approach it as closely as possible and not ask
for more.
Then I was very interested in his remarks.
I still think about them sometimes.
At the same time I think it’s worth emphasizing
that art was under discussion.
© 2013, Lisa Katz
From: Mare Nostrum
From: Mare Nostrum
IN THE TRAIN WINDOW
It was someone elsein the window of the train to Ashford or Hastings,
a man in gray, I saw
only half his face
and I thought it was someone I knew
years ago and couldn’t recall.
Afterwards I had other thoughts, the sun was in
my eyes
and there were a few sheep in the meadow
on the right, and they seemed too pleased and not doubtful
like me, and continued to chew
the grass, until they also disappeared in the end.
These and other things banished the gray man from my heart.
His contours remained stamped in the dark chamber of my thoughts.
On the other hand, I recall a painter friend of mine
said that what we can do is copy
nature, approach it as closely as possible and not ask
for more.
Then I was very interested in his remarks.
I still think about them sometimes.
At the same time I think it’s worth emphasizing
that art was under discussion.
© 2013, Lisa Katz
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