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Poem

Lali Tsipi Michaeli

TRAIN

At the age of 7 I left Georgia as an immigrant to Israel with my parents and two brothers. We arrived at the train-station with the feeling of a one-way ticket. We travelled until Moscow and before passing one whole day and night in a magnificent hotel we took another train to Vienna from there we took a plane to Israel. We landed on another planet. It was mid-January 1972. Since then from my point of view trains have been symbols of departure. Of self-analysis. Of new life. Of loss. Not to mention the Jewish DNA that runs on the collective memory of the train-tracks or vice-versa. There is nothing for me that symbolizes so strongly the wandering the displacement and human sadness like the train. Even if it's a new train racing along tracks raised on columns to allow the world's other creatures non-stop transport. When I want to bring these things to light in my memory everything changes to a collage of the trains I've seen in my life, in reality as well as in films, documentaries or art-house. The train has turned into trainness and I don't know to whom I belong.


רַכֶּבֶת

רַכֶּבֶת

בְּגִיל 7 עָזַבְתִּי אֶת גֵּאוֹרְגְּיָה כִּמְהַגֶּרֶת לְיִשְׂרָאֵל יַחַד עִם הוֹרַי וּשְׁנֵי אַחַי. הִגַּעְנוּ לְתַחֲנַת הָרַכֶּבֶת
עִם תְּחוּשָׁה שֶׁל וואן וואי טיקט. נָסַעְנוּ עַד מוֹסְקְבָה וְאַחֲרֵי שְׁהוּת שֶׁל פָּחוֹת מִיְּמָמָה
בְּמָלוֹן מְפֹאָר לָקַחְנוּ רַכֶּבֶת נוֹסֶפֶת לַוֶּינָה מִשָּׁם לָקַחְנוּ מָטוֹס לָאָרֶץ. הִגַּעְנוּ
לִפְּלָנֶטָה אַחֶרֶת. זֶה הָיָה בְּאֶמְצַע יָנוּאָר שְׁנַת 1972. מֵאָז הָרַכָּבוֹת הֵן סֵמֶל שֶׁל עֲזִיבָה
מִבְּחִינָתִי. שֶׁל חֶשְׁבּוֹן נֶפֶשׁ. שֶׁל חַיִּים חֲדָשִׁים. שֶׁל אָבְדָן. שֶׁלֹּא לְדַבֵּר עַל הַדִי אֵן אֵי הַיְּהוּדִי
שֶׁרָץ עַל מְסִלּוֹת הַזִּכָּרוֹן הַקּוֹלֶקְטִיבִי אוֹ להֵיפך. אֵין מִבְּחִינָתִי מָה שֶׁמְּסַמֵּל חָזָק כֹּל כָּךְ
אֶת הַנְּדוּדִים התלישות וְהָעַצְבוּת הָאֱנוֹשִׁית כְּמוֹ הָרַכֶּבֶת. גַּם אִם זוֹ רַכֶּבֶת חֲדִישָׁה שֶׁדּוֹהֶרֶת
עַל מְסִלָּה מֻגְבַּהַת עַל עַמּוּדִים כְּדֵי לְאַפְשֵׁר ליצוּרֵי הָעוֹלָם הָאֲחֵרִים לָנוּעַ
בְּלִי מַעֲצוֹר. כְּשֶׁאֲנִי רוֹצָה לְהַעֲלוֹת אֶת הַדְּבָרִים בַּזִּכָּרוֹן הַכֹּל הוֹפֵךְ לקולאג' שֶׁל
רַכָּבוֹת שֶׁרָאִיתִי בְּחַיַּי, הֵן בַּמְּצִיאוֹת וְהֵן בִּסְרָטִים, דּוֹקוּמֶנְטָרִיִּים אוֹ עֲלִילָתִיִּים.
הָרַכֶּבֶת הָפְכָה לרַכֶּבֶתִיוּת וַאֲנִי לֹא יוֹדַעַת
לְמִי 
אֲנִי 
שַׁיֶּכֶת.
Close

TRAIN

At the age of 7 I left Georgia as an immigrant to Israel with my parents and two brothers. We arrived at the train-station with the feeling of a one-way ticket. We travelled until Moscow and before passing one whole day and night in a magnificent hotel we took another train to Vienna from there we took a plane to Israel. We landed on another planet. It was mid-January 1972. Since then from my point of view trains have been symbols of departure. Of self-analysis. Of new life. Of loss. Not to mention the Jewish DNA that runs on the collective memory of the train-tracks or vice-versa. There is nothing for me that symbolizes so strongly the wandering the displacement and human sadness like the train. Even if it's a new train racing along tracks raised on columns to allow the world's other creatures non-stop transport. When I want to bring these things to light in my memory everything changes to a collage of the trains I've seen in my life, in reality as well as in films, documentaries or art-house. The train has turned into trainness and I don't know to whom I belong.


TRAIN

At the age of 7 I left Georgia as an immigrant to Israel with my parents and two brothers. We arrived at the train-station with the feeling of a one-way ticket. We travelled until Moscow and before passing one whole day and night in a magnificent hotel we took another train to Vienna from there we took a plane to Israel. We landed on another planet. It was mid-January 1972. Since then from my point of view trains have been symbols of departure. Of self-analysis. Of new life. Of loss. Not to mention the Jewish DNA that runs on the collective memory of the train-tracks or vice-versa. There is nothing for me that symbolizes so strongly the wandering the displacement and human sadness like the train. Even if it's a new train racing along tracks raised on columns to allow the world's other creatures non-stop transport. When I want to bring these things to light in my memory everything changes to a collage of the trains I've seen in my life, in reality as well as in films, documentaries or art-house. The train has turned into trainness and I don't know to whom I belong.


Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère