Self-Portraits in the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch

Lamentations of a Lovelorn Soul: Self-portraits in the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch

Laura Wiseman

A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Ph.D. Hebrew Language and Literature Near and Middle Eastern Civilizations University of Toronto

Lamentations of a Lovelorn Soul:

Self-portraits in the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch

Laura Wiseman

Ph.D. Hebrew Language and Literature Near and Middle Eastern Civilizations

University of Toronto

2010 Abstract

The poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch presents as self-writing nestled in the wide embrace of

non-linear écriture féminine. Each poem offers a glimpse of the persona: body and soul,

the music of her voice and the perspective of her spirit. Together the poems comprise

verbal self-portraits of a lovelorn soul, torn between impulses to fully remember and

deliberately forget.

Through years of love, life, disappointment, bouts of depression and renewed promise,

Dahlia Ravikovitch continued to compose. Through the crystals of poetry the speaker

examines, from varying angles and in multiple refractions of light, those figures of

alterity who are her self. For Ravikovitch poetry was the only neutral space in which her self could comfortably exist and, even so, not always.

The poet-persona experiences love in unsuitable proportions. She receives too little; she goes ‘overboard’ and ‘out of bounds’ in giving too much. She experiences love, even when accessible, as an affliction. She suffers love. She laments love.

The persona performs her malaise through contrasting physical sensations,

idiosyncrasies and profound cravings. Her personal thermostat is erratic. She exhibits

pronounced wardrobe-predilections. Her throat reacts to a flow of eros and creative

vitality or lack thereof. She yearns for pure memory and thirsts for pure essence.

The speaker’s gallery displays an elaborate montage of a golden apple endowed with

gifts of wisdom, eros, poetry and passion, alongside portraits of a royal chanteuse and a skilled scribe. Crucial brushstrokes illuminate lovers and sinners, souls in flames,

shipwrecks, lyric-expressive throats in various states of constriction and release, as well

as voices of collective responsibility.

Ravikovitch encrypts her poetry with rich resources of biblical, rabbinic, medieval and

early modern Hebrew literature. She forwards the linguistic and literary resonance of

these layers. She innovates upon their motifs through feats in the dimensions of

feminine writing, intertextual engagements and postmodern poetics.

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Acknowledgments

It really does ‘take a village’ to educate individuals and support their pursuits. I would like to thank the following significant ‘villagers’ for their teaching, care and help:

Professor Harry Fox for promoting wide-angled perspectives in connecting modern Hebrew literature to its underpinnings in sifrut hazal, especially Talmud and Midreshei aggada;

Professor Tirzah Meacham for sharing her approaches to a wealth of classical texts, including Jerusalem and Babylonian Talmudim, Midreshei halakha and Palestinian Aramaic targumim;

Professor Libby Garshowitz for her ever-present support and invaluable advice; her passion for Hebrew language and literature of all eras has nourished my own love of Hebrew poetry and belles lettres;

Professors Tamar Hess of Hebrew University of Jerusalem and Hamutal Tsamir of Ben Gurion University of the Negev, who each met with me and compared notes on best- loved older and newer articles, including their own, about the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch;

Professor Ilana Szobel for pointing me in the right direction for reading and for leaving the door open for future consultation;

Ido Kalir for generously sharing his memories and impressions of his mother, Dahlia Ravikovitch;

Ira Garshowitz, whose professionalism and sociability as a journalist opened many doors for my research appointments in Israel;

Andrea and Charles Bronfman for supporting those endeavours;

Nahman Raz, Rut Ziv and Miryam Gil of Qevutzat Geva for their candid recollections of Dahlia Ravikovitch and family;

Orly Castel-Bloom for her anecdotes about friendship and editing with Dahlia Ravikovitch, as well as their mutual appreciation for the musicality of language;

Yael Dayan for her vital support for the artist and for introducing me to Orly;

Billi and Carmit, of Israel’s Channel One Archives, who facilitated the retrieval and screening of Ravikovitch’s television interviews;

Miriam Bessin, a former student, now colleague in the field of Jewish Education, who painstakingly vocalized the Hebrew poetry;

Anna Sousa, whose refined manner and good graces are the public face of NMC;

My daughter Rachel, who worked alongside me on winter days with a computer missing its “e”;

My son Noah, who surprised me with a big blue wagon to haul all the library books;

My mother Marcy, whose encouragement has been unflagging from as far away as her archaeological field-work in the Dakhleh Oasis;

My father Yona, zikhrono li-verakha, who insisted on U of T; even when his strength was dwindling, he would send me home to do schoolwork;

Aharon, aharon, vetamid haviv, Barry, behir libbi, whose gentle soul, quick wit and understanding heart have made this work possible.

Dahlia Ravikovitch: About the Poet

Dahlia Ravikovitch was born in 1936 to Mikhal and Levi Ravikovitch. Mikhal was a teacher whose family had lived in one of the earliest homes built in the Me’a She‘arim1 area of Jerusalem. Levi, né Leo, was an engineer who had made his way to Israel from Russia following a sojourn in China.

Dahlia Ravikovitch spent her early childhood in Ramat Gan. At age six she became the big sister of brothers Amiram and Ahiqam. Barely six months later, Dahlia’s father was struck down by a drunk driver, a fact kept concealed from the child for approximately two years. Well-meaning friends convinced Mikhal that it would then be easier to raise her family in the supportive environment of a kibbutz.

Kibbutz Geva became home to the family. Nahman Raz, former member of Israel’s parliament, now kibbutz librarian and archivist, had recently finished the Geva jubilee book when he used it to take me on a visual tour of the family’s history at the kibbutz. Mikhal worked in the kibbutz school and was known there as a colourful character who made a few waves in her time. The twins were the subjects of much attention and affection, and adjusted easily to their new surroundings. Dahlia had a much more difficult time entering the zealously guarded social circle, routine, and work ethic of kibbutz society. She was held at arm’s length as yelidat hutz – one born outside of the kibbutz precincts. The delayed traumatic discovery of her father’s death, her artistic, sometimes dreamy demeanour, as well as issues with the conformity called for by kibbutz life, all contributed to Ravikovitch’s extreme discomfort in that setting.2

1 This information emerged from an interview of Ido Kalir that I conducted in Neve Tzedeq on July 28, 2008: [DR Interview: Ido Kalir]. 2 This information emerged from an interview of Nahman Raz [DR Interview: Nahman Raz] that I conducted in the library of Kibbutz Geva [Qevutzat Geva] on July 31, 2008. Also in attendance were Rut Ziv and Miryam Gil. I retained a digitally recorded sound file with their permission. Rut had worked in the kibbutz school office during Mikhal’s work there. Miryam, a year older than the poet, had been in the same group as Dahlia Ravikovitch for kibbutz activities. She recalled that Dahlia enjoyed Israeli folk dancing.

Newspaper reportage printed in August 2006, the summer of the poet’s first yahrtzeit,3 coincides with the content of some not-entirely-fictional short stories that Dahlia produced: Ravikovitch suffered distressing treatment at the hands of a kibbutz adult who promoted escalation of social sanctions against her by her peers, and robbed her of a voice in personal matters.4 By the age of thirteen Ravikovitch left the kibbutz and spent her adolescence in the care of several foster families in Haifa. Following truncated service in the Israel Defense Forces, Dahlia attended university and came into her own as a poet and writer, lover and mother.

Dahlia Ravikovitch was well-read in the classics of the Hebrew literary canon, particularly bible. She gained access to some aggadic and some halakhic literature of the Sages through commentaries and conventional compendia. She learned the Hebrew poetry of Golden Age Spain, as well as bible commentaries and philosophy of that era. She was fully conversant with the work of early modern Hebrew poets and writers such as Bialik, the work of earlier colleagues such as Leah Goldberg, Rachel and Esther Raab, and the poetry of contemporaries such as Yehuda Amichai, Yona Wallach and Natan Zach.

Ravikovitch’s reading encompassed Greek mythology and the legends of the far-east. She was also well acquainted with a collage of belles lettres and literary criticism in English ranging from the work of Shakespeare to that of Yeats, from T.S. Eliot to Antoine de Saint Exupéry; from Emily Dickenson to Scottish ballads, not to mention fairy tales and operas. Ravikovitch’s knowledge of world literature is clearly far-reaching. She was as ‘at home’ with a biblical hapax legomenon as she was with postmodern literary theory. Her own writing spans more than five decades.

Dahlia is survived by a charming son Ido who recalls her love and honours her memory. From the cozy corner booth of his favourite haunt in Neve Tzedeq, Ido Kalir depicted his early childhood memories of a creative mother whom he described as determined and

3 Yahrtzeit is a Yiddish term for the annual commemoration of an individual’s date of death. 4 See for example: Dahlia Ravikovitch, “Ha-tribunal shel ha-hofesh ha-gadol,” [“The Summer Vacation Tribunal,”] Mavet ba-mishpaha [A Death in the Family] (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1982) 34-65.

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dramatic. He also spoke of Savta Mikhal’s wealth of bible narratives and aggadic stories told at bedtime. About two decades further along, Ido found himself pleased and awed by his mother’s ease in generating conversation with his friends whom she encountered while visiting her son in New York. Apparently she invited them to meet and talk even when Ido was otherwise occupied. Lest we think Dahlia Ravikovitch was the only innovative soul in the family, Ido learned some artistic magic as a movie animator. His mother detected the scent of ‘vanilla’ in Hyde Park;5 Ido managed to ‘make it snow’ in Central Park!

Ido’s best-loved poem was difficult to pin down. He likes Ba-tor la-hatzaga [In Line at the Theatre] because it reminds him of the almost-telepathic connection between mother and son. He likes Historya shel ha-perat6 in which the poet recalls the voice of Yitzhak Livni delivering a sober ‘reality check’: “You have a son / You have time and you have poetry.”7 Ido likes Hitrosheshut8 [Impoverishment] because it accords with his mother’s theatrical flair. He indicated ‘Im Peqihat ‘Einayim9 as emblematic of Ravikovitch’s desperation. In turning the pages of poetry, Ido paused fondly upon seeing Hemda,10 her insignia of love. The link that emblazoned these poems in Ido’s memory was Dahlia’s “way of experiencing everything to its full extent.”11 Ido recalled his mother telling him that poets live at “high risk like divers […] because of their sensitivity to words, because of how intensely they experience words.”12

Orly Castel-Bloom concurs not only about sensitivity to words, but about the poet’s sensitivity to the anguish of day to day living. She related that the only time the sentient ache was dispelled was when Ravikovitch was writing. Castel-Bloom shared an

5 Dahlia Ravikovitch, “Shiveron lev ba-gan,” [“Heartbreak in the Park,”] Kol ha-shirim ‘ad ko (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1995) 91-92. Henceforth: Ravikovitch, Kol ha-shirim. 6 Ravikovitch, “Historya shel ha-perat,” [“Personal History,”] Kol ha-shirim, 305. 7 Loc. cit. 8 Ravikovitch, “Hitrosheshut,” Kol ha-shirim,174. 9 Ravikovitch, “‘Im Peqihat ‘Einayim,” [“Upon Waking,”]Kol ha-shirim, 304. 10 Ravikovitch, “Hemda,” [“Desire”; “Delight,”] Kol ha-shirim, 47. 11 Laura Wiseman, “DR Interview: Ido Kalir,” Neve Tzedeq, July 27, 2008. 12 Loc. cit.

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anecdote about editing Ravikovitch’s book of short stories, Ba’a ve-halekha13 [She Came and She Went]. She found it amusing that the two writers, whom she described as innately incapable of haggling over price in the local bazaar, ran the editing process like bartering. Dahlia insisted that the editing take place face to face and aloud so that she could ensure the musicality of the language; Orly ‘allowed’ her friend to retain specific wordings ‘in exchange for’ certain adjustments or deletions.14

It is my hope that generations of readers will continue to ‘experience’ and celebrate the musicality and depth of the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch.

13 Dahlia Ravikovitch, Ba’a ve-halekha [She Came and Went], ed. Orly Castel-Bloom (Moshav Ben Shemen: Modan, 2005). 14 This information emerged from an interview of Orly Castel-Bloom that I conducted at her home in Tel Barukh on August 14, 2008.

Photograph of Dahlia Ravikovitch by Dina Guna with permission of Ido Kalir

Table of Contents

Abstract ...... ii

Acknowledgments...... iv

Dahlia Ravikovitch: About the Poet...... vi

Photograph of Dahlia Ravikovitch...... x

Table of Contents...... xi

Notes about Translation, Transliteration and Abbreviations...... xv

Translation...... xv

Transliteration...... xv

Abbreviations...... xix

List of Appendices...... xx

Introduction ...... 1

I. Preamble: Self-portraits in the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch...... 1

II. Major Themes of Ravikovitch’s Self-portraits...... 2

III. Outline of Existing Research on the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch...... 10

IV. Methodology for Examination of Prismatic Self-Portraiture: Motifs and Means ...18

V. Contents of the Chapters...... 20

Chapter One Dahlia Ravikovitch: Lamenting Poet...... 24

1.1 Preamble ...... 24

1.2 Lament: An Ancient Art Form and Honoured Profession...... 24

1.3 Lament as Protest: ‘Exerting Voice’ In the Face of Injustice ...... 25

1.4 Modern Hebrew Lament Poetry...... 27

1.5 An Equitable Calculus of Voices in the Face of Injustice ...... 37

1.6 The Need for Contemporary Laments: To Revive the Spoken Word and Reconstruct Worlds ...... 37

1.7 Summary: Lamenting Soul ...... 39

1.8 Dahlia Ravikovitch: Lamenting Lovelorn Soul...... 39

Chapter Two Faint With Love: Poetry As Self-writing ...... 40

2.1 Preface ...... 40

2.2 Self-writing...... 40

2.3 Lovelorn Persona...... 42

2.4 Construction of Self in Retrospect: Persona with a Lacuna ...... 48

2.5 Performance of Self in the Moment: Persona as Poet...... 56

2.6 Construction of Self in Prospect: Deconstruction of Self and Self-destruction.....63

2.7 Summary: Poetry as Self-writing...... 69

2.8 Conclusion: Lovelorn Persona...... 69

Chapter Three Being the Apple: Forwarded Conventions of Biblical and Medieval Hebrew Literature in Modern Hebrew Poetry ...... 71

3.1 The Love of a Golden Apple ...... 71

3.2 A Golden Apple Endowed with Precious Gifts ...... 83

3.3 Summary ...... 104

Chapter Four Figure of Royalty and a Skilled Scribe: Descent into Eros, Descent into Writing ...... 106

4.1 Preface ...... 106

4.2 Central Self-portrait of the Oeuvre: Portrait ...... 107

4.3 Construction of Self: Performing Bios ...... 109

4.4 Intertextual Encryption of Self: Figure of Royalty, Skilled Scribe ...... 111

4.5 Performance of a Self with Malaise: Contrasts, Constraints and Cravings...... 119

4.6 Vanilla Unveiled...... 122

4.7 Natural Resources of a Lovelorn Poet-persona...... 127

4.8 Convergence of Eros and Creative Vitality: Portraits of a Throat...... 140

4.9 Summary ...... 143

Chapter Five Persona on Fire: Portrait of a Shipwreck ...... 144

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5.1 Hitrosheshut – Impoverishment: Background...... 144

5.2 Poem Structure: Sense Units and Sound Units ...... 146

5.3 Impoverishment, Desolate Land and Sailing Away...... 150

5.4 Additional Models of Escape ...... 154

5.5 From Ships to Shipwreck in Boundless Waters ...... 158

5.6 Scrolls on Fire...... 161

5.7 Flames and Waters...... 164

5.8 Beckoning Thanatos at the Heart of the Sea ...... 169

5.9 Flame-inducing Brushstroke ...... 176

5.10 Summary ...... 178

Chapter Six Voice of Responsibility...... 179

6.1 Preamble to Portrayal of a Voice ...... 179

6.2 Speaking of Your Enemy’s Ass: Moral Bankruptcy...... 180

6.3 ‘Egla ‘arufa – Ancient Israelite Ceremony of Atonement...... 185

6.4 Escaping Lifeblood: Fragility of Life and Airborne Particles ...... 189

6.5 Intertextual Nexus in the Canon of Modern Hebrew Poetry: Between Bialik and Ravikovitch ...... 192

6.6 Empathy for an Unwitting Victim: Additional Intertexts in Classical Jewish Sources ...... 195

6.7 Defamiliarization in the Dénouement ...... 199

6.8 Another Understanding: Hermeneutic Lag...... 201

6.9 Summary: Voice of Responsibility ...... 203

Chapter Seven Summoning Memory and Deliberate Forgetting ...... 204

7.1 Preamble ...... 204

7.2 Descent into the Writing Process: Vertical Descent and Sensory Acuity; Factoring in Features and Blotting Out Faces ...... 207

7.3 Semantic Range Study: “tamim”...... 210

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7.4 A ‘Pure’ Personal Memory: Wholly Completed and Wholly Depleted ...... 213

7.5 A ‘Perfect’ Collective Memory: Faces and Facets ...... 215

7.6 Summary ...... 218

Summary ...... 221

8.1 Lamenting Poet ...... 221

8.2 Lamenting Lovelorn Soul ...... 221

8.3 Kindred Spirit of the Lover of the Song of Songs: “For I am sick with love.” ...... 221

8.4 Rare Equilibrium: Eros...... 222

8.5 Existential Malaise: A Gaping Void...... 222

8.6 Convergence of Eros and Creative Vitality ...... 223

8.7 Estranged Soul: Fiery Shipwreck in Endless Waters...... 223

8.8 Prismatic Self-portraiture: Means and Motifs ...... 223

8.9 Afterword ...... 227

8.10 For Further Study...... 227

Bibliography ...... 228

Appendices ...... 246

Appendix A Babylonian Talmud Yevamot 121a: Boundless Waters...... 246

in Masoretic תּ ִ ָמים Appendix B Overview of a Semantic Range Study of and Parallels in Palestinian ְש ִלים Text With Reference to its Counterpart Aramaic Targumic Texts...... 248

Appendix C Full Hebrew Poems by Dahlia Ravikovitch Corresponding to Excerpts Quoted in Hebrew: alphabetically by title or by first line of untitled works ...... 253

Appendix D Full Hebrew Poems by Amichai, Bialik and Cohen Corresponding to Excerpts Quoted in Hebrew: alphabetically by poets’ last names in Hebrew...... 282

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Notes about Translation, Transliteration and Abbreviations Translation

Unless otherwise noted, translations to English of classical Hebrew sources and belles lettres are my work. The translations of full poems and excerpts are working translations in progress. They are meant to be faithful to the original texts, despite the linguistic losses sustained in the language-transition. On the one hand, the result is sometimes less than musical. On the other, I manage to retain concepts, or threads that lead to concepts, arising from previous layers of Hebrew language and literature: biblical, rabbinic, medieval and early modern Hebrew. These are frequently the focus of my contributions to the research on the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch.

Transliteration

With some exceptions the transliteration in this study follows the pattern to be shown below. In general Hebrew names, titles, publishers and terms that appear in italicized English characters are transliterations according to the pattern to be outlined below. Hebrew words that appear in vertical, non-italicized English characters comprise published exceptions; that is, Hebrew words that appear in vertical, non-italicized English characters are published transliterations of names, publishing companies or fossilized spellings that have taken hold over the centuries. Transliterated titles of books, journals and newspapers will remain in italics, whether these are published transliterations or formulated by myself.

Publishers have, for example, published the name of the poet variously as “Dalia”, “Dahlia”, and “Daliya” and her last name as “Rabikovitch” and “Ravikovitch”. The poet’s son has indicated that his mother poet spelled her name “Dahlia Ravikovitch” in English despite what is printed. Her name will be spelled properly, wherever the context permits. In English language journalism, Qevutzat Geva is called and spelled variously “Kevutzat Geva” and “Kibbutz Geva”. Ha-’aretz, an Israeli daily newspaper, for example, publishes its English language segments as “Haaretz”. The publishing company called Ha-qibbutz ha-me’uhad, for example, prints its commercial name as “Hakibbutz Hameuchad”. Poets Amihai and Bialiq have been published for years as “Amichai” and “Bialik”, respectively.

The title of the biblical book of Jonah is commonly spelled with an “h” at its conclusion. To reiterate, published names will largely be left as they appear in print. This gesture is for ease of retrieval on the part of readers and researchers.

English consonants are doubled to parallel a dagesh hazaq other than for the letter shin and after definite articles and particles. The definite article “ha”, the conjunctive vav “ve” or “va”, particles [’otiyot ha-shimush] and prefixed-prepositions are joined to the beginnings of words with a hyphen: ha-tapuah, ba-gan. The letter “hei” at the end of a word is only recorded when representing “mapiq-hei”. ’Aleph and ‘ayin are not shown in transliteration when they appear at the ends of words. In instances where ’aleph functions as part of a diphthong, such as in the word bevadai, it is not represented in the transliteration.

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Consonants

Transliteration Hebrew

א ’

b בּ

ב v

ג g

ד d

ה h

ו v

ז z

ח h

ט t

י y k כּ

כ, ך kh

ל l

מ, ם m

נ, ן n

ס s

ע ‘

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p פּ

פ, ף f

צ, ץ tz

ק q

ר r sh שׁ

שֹ s

תּ, ת t

Vowels

Transliteration Hebrew Transliteration Hebrew

ַי a ַ ָ ְַ ai

ֵי e ֶ ֵ ֱ ei

[`e [sheva na ִי ִ i

ְָ וֹ ֹ o

וּ ֻ u

Superscripted “e” is used for sheva na‘; sheva nah is not transliterated.

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Abbreviations

m – Mishna

b – Babylonian Talmud y – Jerusalem Talmud

Abbreviations within talmudic texts quoted have been spelled in full in this study.

Sifrei Deut. – Sifrei Deuteronomy

ָתּ ִמים - Abbreviations for Appendix B: Overview of a Semantic Range Study

The editions of the following texts correspond to those listed in the bibliography.

FragT – Fragment Targumic Texts:

- MsP – MS Paris Bibliothèque National Hebr. 110, Folios 1-16

- MsVNL – composite of MS Vatican Ebr. 440, Folios 198-227 and Ms Nurnberg and MS Leipzig

- MsJTS – MS Jewish Theological Seminary 605 (E.N.A. 2587), Folios 6, 7

- MsB – MS British Museum Or. 10794 (Gaster Collection) Folio 8

MT – Masoretic Text

N – Neofiti

SJ and SA – versions of the Samaritan Targum of the Pentateuch

TJb – Targum to Job from Qumran Cave XI

TJ-Nevi’im – Targum Jonathan

T-Nakh – Aramaic Targum for Prophets and Writings (shown in Miqra’ot Gedolot)

TO – Targum Onkelos (TAJ)

T-Yerushalmi – Targum Yerushalmi

Y – Pseudo-Yonatan

Syr – Peshitta in Hebrew characters

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List of Appendices

Appendix A Excerpt: Babylonian Talmud Yevamot 121a

in [ ָתּ ִמים] Appendix B Overview of a Semantic Range Study of tamim [ ְשׁ ִ לים] Masoretic Text With Reference to its Counterpart shelim and Parallels in Palestinian Aramaic Targumic Texts

Appendix C Full Hebrew Poems by Dahlia Ravikovitch Corresponding to Excerpts Quoted in Hebrew: alphabetically by title or by first line of untitled works

Appendix D Full Hebrew Poems by Amichai, Bialik and Cohen Corresponding to Excerpts Quoted in Hebrew: alphabetically by poets’ last names in Hebrew

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Introduction I. Preamble: Self-portraits in the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch

This thesis approaches the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch (1936-2005) as verbal self- portraiture. Each poem resembles a prism that refracts a likeness of the speaker. Each prism offers a glimpse of the speaker’s soul, the music of her voice and the perspective of her spirit. Together the poems comprise a gallery of verbal self-portraits. Some are elaborate. Others reveal simple brushstrokes of aspect and attitude. In these portraits, Ravikovitch constructs her persona as poet, intent on writing her bios by inscribing acts of consciousness.

This study employs the term “bios” in the sense which James Olney proposes as “both the course of a life seen as a process rather than a stable entity, and the unique psychic configuration that is this life and no other”.1 This study employs the word “consciousness” with the nuance which Olney also sets forth in contemplation of the term “life” as:

‘life’ where it does not signify an historical matter, the course of a certain number of years, but instead means spirit, or vital principle, or the act of consciousness, or transcendent reality, […] Life in all these latter senses does not stretch back across time but extends down to the roots of individual being; it is atemporal, committed to a vertical thrust from consciousness down into the unconscious rather than to a horizontal thrust from the present into the past.2

The persona of Ravikovitch’s poetry is acutely lovelorn, yearns for pure essence and perfect recollection. She is torn between impulses to fully remember and deliberately forget.

1 James Olney, “Some Versions of Memory / Some Versions of Bios: The Ontology of Autobiography,” Autobiography: Essays Theoretical and Critical, ed. James Olney (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980) 241. Henceforth: Olney, “Memory/Bios.” 2 Olney, “Memory/Bios,” 239.

II. Major Themes of Ravikovitch’s Self-portraits

(i) Lamenting Poet, Lovelorn Soul

In the late nineteen sixties Mordecai Shalev identified Dahlia Ravikovitch as a ‘lamenting poet’ and the title took hold for decades.3 Miri Barukh identified a shift in Ravikovitch’s third book4 from earlier naïve imaginative modes to modes of elegy related to reality.5 Previously, Ravikovitch’s poetry had been filled with exotic landscapes of gold and ivory, sailors and seafaring vessels, and a bustling afterlife in which the dead carry on living. Barukh observed that these youthful flights of fancy had yielded to grayer landscapes as well as to a realistic recognition of death and loss expressed in poetic lamentation.6 Through textual analysis of Ravikovitch’s oeuvre, following its development over the four decades that have elapsed since the conferral of Shalev’s original epithet, this thesis broadens Ravikovitch’s title to a ‘lamenting lovelorn soul’. The demonstration and defence of this expansion through Ravikovitch’s poetry inform the heart of my enterprise.

Apropos of her lovelorn status this thesis identifies that the persona depicted in the poetry rarely manages to experience love in satisfying proportions. She actually suffers from love. She suffers from a dearth of it on the receiving end and a surfeit on the giving end, devoting more than she perceives in return. This leads to malaise conventionally expressed as lovesickness. She is holat ’ahava – as deeply lovesick as the female figure at the heart of one of the love poems in the Song of Songs. She sings in a tone close to lament:

3 Mordecai Shalev, “Dahlia Ravikovitch – meshoreret meqonenet,” [“Dahlia Ravikovitch – Lamenting Poetess,”] Ha-’aretz: tarbut ve-sifrut, 2.4.69; 13.6.69. Henceforth: Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet.” 4 Dahlia Ravikovitch, Ha-sefer ha-shelishi [The Third Book] (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad) 1969. 5 Miri Barukh, ‘Iyyunim be-shirat Dahlia Ravikovitch [Studies in the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch] (Tel Aviv: Akad, 1973) 66. Henceforth: Barukh, ‘Iyyunim be-shirat Ravikovitch. 6 Barukh, ‘Iyyunim b e-shirat Ravikovitch, 66-73.

Sustain me with sweet-delicacies, Bolster me with apples, For I am sick with love.7

As this study shows, Ravikovitch extends the comparison between the persona of her poetry and that of a lover in the Song of Songs. Each feels the impact of love at its heights and depths. This study illustrates, through textual analysis, that the poet perceives these extremes so intensely, and so organically, that she experiences them bodily. In addition this thesis claims that even when the persona finds love accessible, she experiences and laments love as an affliction. I therefore call the poet-persona a lamenting lovelorn soul.

(ii) Eros

As argued by Ayelet Lesly the poet communicates her rare experiences of consummate eros through sensations of sinking into water or a cloud.8 This thesis uncovers additional dimensions of such experiences. For the persona consummate eros is a total-body experience involving her every limb and organ. In addition to causing her to glow physically, eros involves bodily seeping. Beyond a sensation of sinking or settling into water vapour or lush material, consummate eros sometimes entails her organic merging

7 Song of Songs 2:5. The Hebrew word ’ashishot, translated above as ‘sweet-delicacies’, appears in several formations in scriptures. Its occurrences suggest sweet delicacies such as dried grapes, namely raisins, or figs, such as the sweet morsels used in fruitcakes. In a poetic rendering of the verse in English, the JPS translation reads as: Sustain me with raisin cakes, Refresh me with apples, For I am faint with love. JPS Hebrew-English Tanakh, (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1999) 1729. Henceforth: JPS Tanakh. The medieval commentary of Abraham Ibn Ezra suggests, inter alia, that the curious ’ashishot may be understood variously as glass flagons filled with wine (Ibn Ezra on Song of Songs 2:5): באשישות - כלי זכוכית מליאות יין: 8 Ayelet Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros: ‘iyyun be-shiratan shel Esther Raab ve-Dahlia Ravikovitch,” [“Hebrew Poets Touch Upon Eros: A Study of the Poetry of Esther Raab and Dahlia Ravikovitch,”] M.A. thesis, Bar Ilan University, 1999. 107,112-113. Henceforth: Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros.”

with such marvelous matter. Occasionally, as described in the poetry, it involves a suffusion of such luxuriant milieux with her own essence.

(iii) Malaise

The persona is seldom comfortable emotionally. She manifests her malaise physically through contrasting sensations, idiosyncratic dressing and pronounced cravings. She is by turns too hot or too cold, lingers at home wearing a particular plaid skirt, and wraps herself up to the point of near self-strangulation. When the persona feels particularly bereft she becomes keenly aware of a gaping void in her soul and yearns profoundly for a substance of sustenance to fill it. Metaphorically, she calls out for ‘vanilla’.9 Actually, aside from eros, only total immersion in poetry – its reading and its writing – alleviates her malaise.10

(iv) Convergence of Eros and Creative Vitality

I detect that Ravikovitch’s poetry shows a convergence of eros, sexually defined, and the creative vitality connected to her writing process. I observe that the experience of each is presaged in the poetry by a similar sequence of vertical descent and linked to a similar phenomenon of sensory intoxication. Further I indicate that the nexus of eros and creativity presents as the substance of existential sustenance for which the poet so deeply yearns in order to go on with daily living and writing. It helps her navigate the lingering anguish of certain traumatic personal recollections and countenance responsibility on the collective level. She attends best to both through her poetry writing.

In the process of arriving at the observation outlined above, this thesis notes that in addition to her occasional release through eros, Ravikovitch’s persona derives relief primarily when she manages to absorb herself fully in crystal-clear consciousness for the writing of bios:11 contemporaneous constructions of ‘self’ also called ‘self-writing’.

9 Dahlia Ravikovitch, “Portret” [“Portrait,”] Kol ha-shirim ‘ad ko, (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1995) 135-137. Henceforth: Ravikovitch, Kol ha-shirim. 10 Ravikovitch, “’’Atta bevadai zokher,” [“Surely You Remember,”] Kol ha-shirim, 115-116. 11 Olney, “Memory/Bios,” 241.

The poet composes her self-portraits in the productive language of feminine writing, also called écriture dite féminine, or simply écriture féminine, which Hélène Cixous would dub writing “in white ink.”12

Hélène Cixous associates “white ink” with mother’s milk: “a woman is never far from ‘mother’ […] There is always within her at least a little of that good mother’s milk. She writes in white ink.”13 In the context of writing in white ink, Cixous writes of ‘mother’ as metaphor, referring to:

the equivoice that affects you, fills your breast with an urge to come to language and launches / your force; the rhythm that laughs you; […] makes all metaphors possible and / desirable […] that part of you / that leaves a space between yourself and urges you to inscribe in language your woman’s style.14

In producing constructions of her ‘self’ Ravikovitch’s speaker etches the poems with her unique voice, her unique sexuality, and her unique icons. Self-writing in poetry presents as one of myriad modes of écriture féminine, reflecting “the infinite richness of their individual constitutions.”15

In context, the reference to “individual constitutions” is to those of women and men who occupy “the space of feminine writing”16 and who inscribe therein the profusion and plurality of female sexuality. Cixous cautions that “you can’t talk about a female sexuality, uniform, homogeneous, classifiable into codes – any more than you can talk about one unconscious resembling another. Women’s imaginary is inexhaustible, like music, painting, writing: their stream of phantasms is incredible.”17

12 Hélène Cixous, “The Laugh of the Medusa,” The Continental Ethics Reader, eds. Matthew Calarco and Peter Atterton (New York and London: Routledge, 2003) 280. Henceforth: Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa.” 13 Loc. cit. 14 Loc. cit. 15 Cixous “Laugh of the Medusa,” 276. 16 Matthew Calarco and Peter Atterton, “Hélène Cixous,” The Continental Ethics Reader, eds. Matthew Calarco and Peter Atterton, (New York and London: Routledge, 2003) 275. Henceforth: Calarco and Atterton, “Hélène Cixous.” 17 Cixous “Laugh of the Medusa,” 276.

This thesis identifies the unique flow of Ravikovitch’s écriture féminine. That flow is strongly evident in the pair of antidotes to the poet’s malaise: the fluid realms of eros, sexually defined, and of creative, contemporaneous self-writing. More precisely, that unique flow is evident in their convergence pictured in the verbal self-portraits in the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch.

(v) Soul in Flames

When accessible, the substance of existential sustenance, previously mentioned, functions as the persona’s Ariadne’s thread:18 it presents as a memory-shaping fibre that might offer her deliverance from the bewildering warrens of love. When love is unavailable, the fibre serves as a lit fuse leading to certain combustion. Readers of Ravikovitch have known for years that the persona herself is smouldering,19 as scholars usually trace the initial flames to formative traumas in Ravikovitch’s childhood.20 The traumas are repeated as nightmare in the poetry as the persona seeks to comprehend them and strives to gain a modicum of control over them.

In analyzing poems such as Hitrosheshut [Impoverishment]21 and excerpts of Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur [Limits]22 this thesis adds to the research on the phenomenon of

18 Olney works with the metaphor of ‘Ariadne’s thread’ borrowed from Greek mythology to refer to the unconscious formation of memory as distinct from the process of bios in: Olney, “Memory/Bios,” 240- 241. 19 Ravikovitch, “Ha-beged,” [“The Garment,”; Henceforth: ”Dress of Fire.”] Kol ha-shirim, 122-123. This poem is translated as “A Dress of Fire,” transl. Chana Bloch, A Dress of Fire, (Berkeley: Menard Press, 1976) 5-8; it is also translated as “The Dress,” in Dahlia Ravikovitch, Hovering at a Low Altitude: The Collected Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch, transl. Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld, (New York and London: W. W. Norton and Company) 115-116. Henceforth: Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering. 20 Michal Ben-Naftali, “Keri‘a: ‘al yehasei ’em-bat be-‘iqqevot ‘Ha-beged’ me-’et Dahlia Ravikovitch,” [“Rending: On Mother-daughter Relations in the Wake of ‘The Dress’,”] Resling 7 (2000): 65-83. Henceforth: Ben-Naftali, “Keri‘a.” 21 Ravikovitch, “Hitrosheshut,” [“Impoverishment,”] Kol ha-shirim, 174. This poem is translated as “Impoverishment,” transl. and eds. Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch, The Window: Poems by Dahlia Ravikovitch (Riverdale-on-Hudson: Sheep Meadow Press, 1989) 80. Henceforth: Ravikovitch, The Window, transl. Bloch and Bloch. This poem is also translated as “Growing Poor” in Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 148. 22 Ravikovitch, “Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur,” [“Limits,”] Kol ha-shirim, 178.

flames by tracing the motif through which the persona constructs an image of herself as an apostate. She is cognizant that the flames of her smouldering are a function of her ‘mistaken’ or ‘out of bounds’ love.23 She uses comparable terms to convey personal apostasy and consequent alienation from divine love. Conscious of her estranged status, she feels pressed to seek purification of her soul through fire.24 She resolves to descend to the depths as a shipwreck ablaze.25 This thesis locates the motif of ‘buffeted boat in endless waters’ in talmudic literature,26 and explores its implications to enlarge the scope of current scholarship on flames and fire in Ravikovitch’s poetry.

(vi) Collective Responsibility

The theme of collective responsibility emerges in poems in which the persona exerts her voice of socio-political conscience. Examples are apparent in a set of poems in Ravikovitch’s third book. They are grouped as Sugyot be-yahadut bat zemanenu [Issues in Contemporary Jewish Studies]27 A representative portrait of the persona’s voice is perceptible in ‘Egla ‘arufa [Neckbroken Heifer].28 This thesis adds a new component to the research on this particular poem through analysis of the unique means which Ravikovitch employs to exert her own voice of socio-political responsibility, namely ‘hermeneutic lag’.29

I adopt the expression ‘hermeneutic lag’ from Marjorie Perloff. Perloff coins this term in the context of poetry analysis. Perloff identifies a postmodern poetic technique

23 Loc. cit. 24 Ravikovitch, “Hitrosheshut,” Kol ha-shirim, 174 25 Loc. cit. 26 bYevamot 121a. 27 Ravikovitch, “Sugyot be-yahadut bat zemanenu,” Kol ha-shirim, 244-258. 28 Ravikovitch, “‘Egla ‘arufa,” Kol ha-shirim, 253-254. This poem is translated as “Blood Heifer” in Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Bloch, The Window, 98-99. It is also translated as “Beheaded Heifer” in Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 195-196. 29 Marjorie Perloff, “Signs are Taken for Wonders: On Steve McCaffery’s ‘Lag’,” In Contemporary Poetry Meets Modern Theory, eds. Antony Easthope and John O.Thompson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1991) 114.

precipitated at the levels of semantics and syntax.30 I identify a similar technique in Ravikovitch’s poetry of the level of global meaning. For all intents and purposes, ‘hermeneutic lag’ gives birth to a functional space where and when language is manipulated to undermine language. The destabilization caused by the technique of ‘hermeneutic lag’ opens spaces or delays in poetry in which readers must grope for meaning and subsequently reorient themselves. Ironically, it is in these spaces or lags, rather than in the words, that poets like Ravikovitch sometimes situate their loudest voices. I will demonstrate the presence and function of this postmodern poetic through an analysis of ‘Egla ‘arufa. Ravikovitch’s situates her voice of collective responsibility and remonstration in this poem’s ‘hermeneutic lag’.

(vii) Traumatic Remembering

Efforts to piece together the circumstances surrounding her father’s death in a fatal car accident plague the persona. They are manifest in early poems such as ‘Omed ‘al ha- kevish ba-lyela [Standing on the Road at Night].31 As the persona matures her pronounced desire to summon pure memory is the source of daily ache and agony: she is torn between the consuming desire for a perfect recollection in order to compose poetry, and the need for a buffer of a benign degree of forgetting in order to tolerate the distresses of living. The same holds true for the persona when she exerts her voice of responsibility on the collective level. This thesis enlarges the research on the poem Zikkaron tamim [A Pure Memory; A Perfect Memory; An Intact Memory]32 through analysis of the postmodern ‘sealing and unsealing’ of meaning as the means which

30 Perloff refers specifically to the work of Steve McCaffery who laces his renowned postmodern poem “Lag” with unsettling prepositions. He employs these linguistic shifters to project meaning cataphorically and anaphorically. This practice precipitates a lag while readers grope for their semantic and syntactic bearings. McCaffery employs this technique to cause language to destabilize language. In so doing, I perceive that he draws attention to the spaces in poetry. In those spaces meaning may be discerned yet is perpetually in flux. A comparison might be made to Mallarmé’s technique in the poem, “Un coup de dés” [“A Toss of the Dice”] first published in a journal called Cosmopolis in May 1897. The uniquely sparse and scattered layout of the printed word on the pages draws attention to both the physical spaces and the gaps in meaning which are full of meaning. 31 Ravikovitch, (untitled) [“‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela,” – “Standing on the Road at Night,”] Kol ha-shirim 24. 32 Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim, 161. This poem is translated as “A Pure Whole Memory” in Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 137.

Ravikovitch employs to paint that very tension: desperation to recall a pure memory and the impetus to forget.

In this regard, the persona struggles in the bind identified by Herbert Marcuse as follows:

This ability to forget – itself the result of a long and terrible education by experience – is an indispensable requirement of mental and physical hygiene without which civilized life would be unbearable; but it is also the mental faculty which sustains submissiveness and renunciation. To forget is also to forgive what should not be forgiven if justice and freedom are to prevail. 33

Derrida identifies the poetic correlative to the type of tension that Marcuse describes between remembrance and forgetting.34 He does so in the context of analyzing the poetry of Paul Célan’s on witnessing. Derrida writes: “The possibility of a secret always remains open, and this reserve inexhaustible. That is more than ever so in the poetry of Célan, who never ceased encrypting (sealing, unsealing) these references.”35

I suggest that Derrida’s assertions regarding sealing and unsealing, as well as the open possibility for texts to whisper secrets, would apply as well to Ravikovitch’s enterprise of dense textual encryption. Through application of the results of a semantic range study, I shall demonstrate that in Zikkaron tamim Ravikovitch builds in a ‘self-unsealing’ mechanism. She does so by incorporating a semantic component which poses conflicting meanings regarding remembrance.

33 Herbert Marcuse, “Eros and Thanatos,” Sigmund Freud, ed. Harold Bloom (New York: Chelsea House,1985) 12. 34 Jacques Derrida, “Poetics and Politics of Witnessing,” 2004, Sovereignties in Question: The Poetics of Paul Célan, eds. Thomas Dutoit and Outi Pasanan (New York: Fordham University Press, 2005) 65- 96. Henceforth: Derrida, “Poetics and Politics of Witnessing.” 35 Derrida, “Poetics and Politics of Witnessing,” 67.

III. Outline of Existing Research on the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch

This thesis weaves together several threads in examining self-portraiture in Ravikovitch’s poetry: love and eros with their attendant sensations and emotions, constructions of self, soul and remembrance, as well as écriture féminine associated with the persona’s creative production of poetry.

(i) General Research on the Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch

Dahlia Ravikovitch sent her poetry to print for six decades beginning in the nineteen fifties. Over the years there have been articles and anthology entries published about individual poems and currents in her oeuvre, two volumes on structural themes, several M.A. theses completed at Israeli universities and, most recently, a doctoral thesis. The M.A. theses examine biblical Hebrew language and underpinnings in the poetry,36 the role these played in reader reception of the early work,37 expressions of eros,38 and a study of the central female figure in Ravikovitch’s prose viewed in light of chronic depression and additional influences on identity-formation.39

In 2008 Ilana Szobel examined identity-formation in Ravikovitch’s complete corpus. At the time of the preparation of this thesis, Tamar Hess and Hamutal Tsamir are co- editing a volume of original essays and reprints of seminal articles on the work of Dahlia

36 Merav Mikulitzky, “Ha-tashtit ha-miqra’it be-shireihem shel natan zach ve-Dahlia Ravikovitch,” [“The Scriptural Base in the Poems of Natan Zach and Dahlia Ravikovitch,”] M.A. thesis, Tel Aviv University, 2004. Henceforth: Mikulitzky, “Ha-tashtit ha-miqra’it.” 37 Tali Ergov, “Shiratah ha-muqdemet shel Dahlia Ravikovitch: hitqablut u-fo’etiqa,” [“The Early Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch: Reader-reception and Poetics,”] M.A. thesis, Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1995. Henceforth: Ergov, “Shiratah ha-muqdemet.” 38 Lesly, ““Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros.” 39 Ilana Szobel, “‘Keivan she-biqesha le-himalet nit‘arbeva da‘atah': ‘al ha-demut ha-nashit ve‘al kroniqat ha-dikkuy bi-yetzira ha-sifrutit shel Dahlia Ravikovitch,” [“’She Sought to Flee and Took Leave of Her Senses’: About the Female Image and Chronic Depression in the Prose of Dahlia Ravikovitch,”] M.A. thesis, Tel Aviv University, 2000. Henceforth: Szobel, “Kroniqat ha-dikkuy.”

Ravikovitch.40 Among them are articles each has written addressing gender in the language, structure and content of Ravikovitch’s poetry.

Hess addresses issues of gender constraints posed by the Hebrew language, research to which this introduction will soon return.41 Tsamir addresses “the triangular connection between poetics, gender and canon that is embodied in the relationship between the poet Ravikovitch and her readers.”42 She views Ravikovitch as the “new, Israeli version of the national poet, a role that includes being the poet-prophet”43 and argues that “it is not incidental that a woman fills this position.”44 Tsamir further asserts that “Ravikovitch discloses the nation’s internal fissures as they are embodied and inscribed in her body and mind.”45

(ii) Outline of Research Pertinent to This Thesis

The following is an outline of the existing research on the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch that touches on the concentration of this dissertation. Some of the studies cited bear direct foundational relevance to themes of the self-portraits such as those of eros, creativity, lament and existential malaise; others are cited to show views with which my research concurs, upon which my thinking builds, or from which my analysis diverges, whether in terms of content, concepts and literary analysis, or in terms of methodological considerations.

40 Kitmei ’or: ma’amarim ‘al Dahlia Ravikovitch, Tamar Hess and Hamutal Tsamir, eds. (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 2010). Henceforth: Hess and Tsamir, eds., Kitmei ’or. 41 Tamar Hess, “Poetica shel ‘etz te’enim: panim feministiyot be-shiratah ha-muqdemet shel Dahlia Ravikovitch,” [“Poetics of a Fig Tree: Feminist Facets in the Early Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch,”] Seminar paper presented in 1994 to Ruth Karton-Bloom at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, soon to be published in: Hess and Tsamir, eds., Kitmei ’or. Henceforth: Hess, “Poetica shel ‘etz te’enim.” 42 Hamutal Tsamir, “‘Strange Things Happen in the History of Literature’: Poetry in the Nation State, Dahlia Ravikovitch and the Gender of Representation,” Jewish Social Studies 14.3 (2008): 88. Henceforth: Tsamir, “Ravikovitch and the Gender of Representation.” In the forthcoming publication the title will be as follows: Hamutal Tsamir, "Ha-tzofa le-veit yisrael mi-bifnim: Dahlia Ravikovitch, ha- shira ha-le’umit-yisraelit ve-ha-migdar shel ha-yitzugiyut,” eds. Hess and Tsamir, Kitmei ’or. 43 Tsamir, “Ravikovitch and the Gender of Representation,” 88. 44 Loc. cit 45 Tsamir, “Ravikovitch and the Gender of Representation,” 102.

(iii) Miri Barukh

In treating the theme of eros Miri Barukh views the speaker of the poems as susceptible to falling in love with destructive lovers.46 In these contexts, which are potentially fatal for the speaker, Barukh highlights what she sees as the speaker’s masochism. To my mind, Barukh’s approach does not credit the persona with sufficient motivation, volition and innovative ability to traverse liminal boundaries through language and remain intact. In these regards, Tamar Hess makes the case in favour of the persona.47 My thesis will reposition the so-called masochism as an issue of proportions in matters of love. I shall claim that the persona’s lovelorn condition is due, in large measure, to the fact that she never manages to find or show love in satisfying proportions.

(iv) Juliette Hassine

In connection to the persona’s personification of a tapuah zahav – a golden apple as a metaphor of ‘self’, Juliette Hassine identifies eros and wisdom as the symbolism of golden apples in several cultures, particularly in Greek mythology48 and far eastern alchemy.49 She elucidates that among the labours with which Eurystheus charges Hercules is the enjoinment to steal the apples of the Garden of the Hesperides, also known as Athena’s love apples. She thus detects the love and the danger invested in such apples. Hassine provides additional leads to the essence of golden apples as secret, precious alchemical wisdom and insight sought by those in quest of a philosopher’s stone.50

This thesis will trace additional golden apples in literature, both to broaden the frame of reference presented by Hassine and to show features of golden apples in addition to eros. A christological view holds to a vision of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good

46 Barukh, ‘Iyyunim b e-shirat Ravikovitch, 34, 42. 47 Hess, “Poetica shel ‘etz te’enim.” 48 Juliette Hassine, Shira u-mitos bi-yetziratah shel Dahlia Ravikovitch (Tel Aviv: Akad, 1989) 46. Henceforth: Hassine, Shira u-mitos. 49 Hassine, Shira u-mitos, 48, 53, 59. 50 Hassine, Shira u-mitos, 14-20.

and Evil as an apple, a concept of which Ravikovitch would have been aware. By association danger and death, in addition to eros, adhere to the symbol. Ravikovitch’s principal wellspring of Hebrew scriptures, however, does not specify the fruit of that tree as an apple. Ravikovitch takes hearty literary advantage of the apples which do occur in Hebrew scriptures in the Song of Songs and in Proverbs.

In the matter of golden apples, this study turns to those featured in classical genres of Hebrew literature such as Hebrew bible and medieval Hebrew writing. These reveal facets of the golden apple that complement eros and illustrate its enlarged sphere of symbolic influence for the poet and her poems. In looking at the genres right in the poet’s own backyard this study will show that in addition to eros and wisdom, Ravikovitch’s speaker, personified as a golden apple, seeks to embody love, poetry, prophecy and essence.

Accordingly this study will reframe the general ‘take’ on Dahlia Ravikovitch’s tapuah zahav – golden apple, heretofore largely conceived of as an orange. The translators have generally gone that route. To demonstrate, the title of the first collection, ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav, has been translated as The Love of an Orange.51 The merit in such a translation might be anchored in the Italian fairytale by Giambattista Basile, For the Love of Three Oranges, alternately The Love for Three Oranges and The Love for Three Citrons.52 Translators Bloch and Kronfeld point out a connection to the opera by Sergei Prokofiev53 which is based on that tale. The translation of the title does not, however, engage the intertextual reverberations of motifs built into the layers of the Hebrew language, which Ravikovitch uses to best advantage in poetry.

51 Ravikovitch, The Window, transl. Bloch and Bloch, 1. 52 Giambattista Basile, “The Three Citrons,” Stories from the Pentamarone by Giambattista Basile, ed. Edward Fairbrother Strange (London: Macmillan, 1911). Tale 31. 53 Ravikovitch, “The Love of an Orange,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 49, n. 1.

(v) Tamar Hess

More recently Tamar Hess has confirmed her position that Ravikovitch’s tapuah zahav is indeed a golden apple.54 I concur with her rendering as well as with her views of the feminist facets of Ravikovitch’s poetry, specifically the modes in which Ravikovitch wrestles with the embedded gender constraints of Hebrew language and literature. Hess asserts that Ravikovitch exerts herself in order to open spaces in which women rightfully position women’s voices and female entities in language and culture, in life force and eros.55 Hess endorses the outlook of Hélène Cixous in identifying those desirable spaces as anywhere other than silence, the marginalized fringe or the harem.56 Hess skilfully illustrates the properties of Ravikovitch’s golden apple to navigate the boundaries of her beloved’s body through language, its contexts, structures and sounds, through eros and ingenuity.57

I view the titular poem of Ravikovitch’s first collection of poetry, ’Ahavat tapuah ha- zahav – The Love of a Golden Apple as the concentrated essence of her poetic corpus. I am fully in agreement with Tamar Hess in regarding the apple as a pivotal key to the oeuvre. My thesis adds to the research by revealing additional allusions associated with the golden apple. These derive from layers of Hebrew literature as far back as biblical and medieval sources. My study also identifies and illustrates a related key which grows from this poem and is central to the oeuvre: love, for the persona, is a makka – an affliction which is the source of her suffering and cause for lament.

(vi) Mordecai Shalev

In a series of newspaper articles written in the late nineteen sixties, Mordecai Shalev is incisive about the elegiac tenor of the poems in Ravikovitch’s third collection.58 They

54 Hess, “Poetica shel ‘etz te’enim.” 55 Loc. cit. 56 Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 279. 57 Hess, “Poetica shel ‘etz te’enim.” 58 Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” Parts 1-6.

cloak what he deems ‘a national pastime’ in Hebrew literature: the donning of disguises and masquerading. In reflecting on the implications of the garb, grievances and proclivities of the speaker of the poem Portret [Portrait],59 Shalev indicates the persona’s discomfort in matters of love and poetry writing. I shall further develop Shalev’s concepts in this thesis through illustration of the centrality of this poem and its motifs among the verbal self-portraits offered in the oeuvre.

Shalev exposes a discreetly clad secret in analyzing the garb of the speaker in the poem Portret. He notes that the chequered or plaid skirt which the speaker insists on mentioning in a coyly dismissive manner, attracts attention and engenders comment. The skirt is described as meshubetzet – reminiscent of the inlaid gem and socket configuration or pattern woven into some of the ancient priestly vestments worn for service in the temple that stood in Jerusalem. Shalev comments on the speaker’s garment in light of eros. He shows that the persona practically points an arrow in the direction of her skirt to transmit her intense need for eros.

This study will show a connection that the persona makes linking eros and the poetry- writing process by association. Just as the speaker exhibits an urgent need to write, she exhibits a profound urge for eros; hence her distress in the face of her ‘ikkuvim – delays and setbacks which, in addition to expressions of existential malaise, may be perceived as writer’s block for lack of eros.

The overlap between the speaker’s need for eros and need to write poetry offers an opportunity to delve preliminarily into the theory of feminine writing that I shall discuss more fully where appropriate in this study. For now it is sufficient to state that Shalev’s comments about Ravikovitch’s writing relate to the concept advanced by Hélène Cixous picturing écriture féminine as writing “in white ink.”60 Cixous situates ‘white ink’ as a productive flow reminiscent of mother’s milk. Early on, Shalev had identified the motif of ‘vanilla’ in Portret in a similar and context.

59 Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137. 60 Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 280.

Shalev envisioned ‘vanilla’ as ‘mother’s milk’ in its productive association and as semen.61 My study will frame both of these bodily substances as productive ‘life- conferring streams of white ink’. The ‘vanilla’ craving in the poem Portret should therefore be read as the speaker’s craving for that which will dispel her malaise and enable her to relaunch her stalled poetry writing process in order to write creatively in the ‘white ink’ associated with écriture féminine: a convergence of eros, sexually defined, and creative vitality.

(vii) Ayelet Lesly

In an M.A. thesis on eros in the work of modern Hebrew poets Raab and Ravkovitch, Ayelet Lesly notes both direct and indirect expressions of eros in Ravikovitch’s poetry and a steady reliance on descriptions of nature and natural motifs to express erotic desire and longing.62 These include streams of water and light in a variety of states as well as the speaker’s urge to envelop herself in their flow. They take account of birds and flight, lithe felines and an abundance of flora ranging from treetops and bushes to water lilies and seaweed.

My study expands the research regarding the persona’s expressions of eros by drawing attention to the physical journeys that she projects at the height of passion, and to her proclivity to merge organically with the marvelous matter or lush material that cushions, receives or encircles her. Both the physical passage and the organic merging require her to traverse limens usually regarded as barriers.

Lesly expounds the heightened sensory phenomena that accompany the speaker’s experience of eros. During such moments the persona conveys the sensation of floating freely or sinking into a cloud. My thesis identifies a congruent sensory phenomenon in Ravikovitch’s poetry which portends the speaker’s productive composition of poetry through acts of consciousness presaged by acute sensory awareness: lights behave

61 Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” Part 6. 62 Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros,” 101-133.

outrageously, colours leap from the strongholds of their picture frames, stars plummet, grasses moan,63 walls stretch to increased heights and hues grow more intense.64

I view this heightening of senses, verging on sensory confoundment and portending productive poetry writing, as a parallel to the sensory experiences that Lesly has identified in the framework of eros. In other words, my study links the speaker’s creative poetry writing process with her experience of eros and, accordingly, relates her intense need for creativity to her craving for eros.65

Further to the convergence of eros, sexually defined, and creative vitality, my study adds to the motifs recognized in the research by identifying portraits of the persona’s throat.66 She paints her throat in varying states of constriction and release, depending on how freely flowing either her experience of eros or her poetry-writing happens to be at the moment of portraiture.

(viii) Ilana Szobel

In reference to methodology for approaching the persona’s constructions of ‘self’ it is important to acknowledge the scholarly work of Ilana Szobel. Szobel’s M.A. thesis studies the central female figure of Ravikovitch’s prose.67 In her analysis of the identity- formation of that figure, Ilana Szobel succeeds in remarking incisively upon the “integration of experiences”68 precisely because the prose offers recourse to “a linear continuity and the connections between them and their development is made possible by precise information about the heroine’s age and the thematic focus on the same age group.”69

63 Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim, 161. See also: Robert Alter, “Foreward,” in The Window, ix-xiii. 64 Ravikovitch, “’Atta bevadai zokher”, Kol ha-shirim, 115-116. 65 See Chapter Four. 66 See Chapter Four. 67 Szobel, “Kroniqat ha-dikkuy. 68 Szobel, “Kroniqat ha-dikkuy,” Abstract iii. 69 Loc. cit.

By contrast a poetic oeuvre does not characteristically offer a single foothold of linearity. Instead it offers prismatic views of a whole. Accordingly my thesis approaches the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch as self-writing nestled naturally in the broad embrace of the non-linear, kaleidoscopic writing associated with both self-writing and écriture féminine. My study treats the poems of Ravikovitch’s oeuvre as prisms refracting the verbal self- portraiture of their speaker. She constructs her persona as a poet intent on writing her bios.

Ilana Szobel’s recent doctoral dissertation examines identity-formation in Ravikovitch’s entire corpus, prose and poetry, through the treble skylights of psychoanalysis, feminist theory and trauma studies.70 Szobel lucidly brings to bear specifics of identity-formation with an accent on estrangement and subjectivity.

My work examines a specific all-encompassing component of the persona’s identity, namely her lovelorn condition. It views her work through the lenses of self-writing, écriture féminine and postmodern poetics. It examines a spectrum of intertextual engagements that have nearing upon the contextual sense of the poetic oeuvre, upon its specific language, motifs and themes. In terms of examining constructions of ‘self’ the studies complement one another.

IV. Methodology for Examination of Prismatic Self-Portraiture: Motifs and Means

(i) Motifs

Among the motifs to which this thesis attends, it pays particular attention to the multiple facets refracted in that of the golden apple which is the key to Ravikovitch’s entire oeuvre. In addition to the golden apple’s prisms of eros and wisdom, this thesis discerns portraits of a poet, prophet, a scribe and royal chanteuse, of throats and voices, as well

70 Ilana Szobel, “‘Not with My Feet on the Ground’: Poetics of Estrangement, Subversion and Witnessing in the Oeuvre of Dahlia Ravikovitch,” diss., New York University, 2008. Henceforth: Szobel, “Poetics of Estrangement.”

as of souls and sinners. All ache for pure memory and thirst for pure essence. Each will be made apparent as the chapters unfold.

(ii) Means

This thesis employs textual analysis to view and convey the significance of the brushstrokes-of-self in the gallery of the poet’s self-portraits. The analysis treats the oeuvre in a holistic manner, regarding the poems as interrelated and contextually meshed. Through textual analysis this study seeks parallels and contrasts in semantics, motifs, contexts and concepts. In turn, by inquiring of the text in an interpretive manner, this study utilizes the parallels and contrasts to detect a coherent body of underlying significance which Ravikovitch assembled during more than five decades of poetic composition.

Recognizing that each successive layer of Hebrew language and literature resonates with the semantics, motifs and contexts of its predecessors, this thesis also seeks and presents the reverberations of such elements in the Hebrew of the Masoretic text and Aramaic parallels,71 rabbinic, medieval and early modern Hebrew compositions. Despite the concentration in much of the research on the poet’s use of biblical language and motifs with a few references to middle Hebrew,72 Ravikovitch’s poetry engages with multiple layers of Hebrew literature. She draws on these in several ways. She employs them to enlarge the semantic scope of individual terms and to increase the productive tension among their connotations.73 She mines their depths as primary sources of influence for her complex innovation of motifs, and excavates their riches to trigger the counterpoint of intertextuality.

71 The Aramaic parallels to which the text above refers are Palestinian Aramaic targumic texts including: Pseudo-Jonathan, Neofiti, variants of the Samaritan Targum, Targum Onkelos which is a Palestinian Aramaic parallel that underwent a Babylonian redaction, as well as the Syriac dialect of the Peshitta. 72 Barukh, ‘Iyyunim be-shirat Ravikovitch; Mikulitzky, “Ha-tashtit ha-miqra’it”; Ergov, “Shiratah ha- muqdemet.”; Shalev, Meshoreret meqonenet.” 73 Examples include the poet’s use of the Hebrew term makka with positive and negative connotations: see Chapter Three. See Chapter Seven for the poet’s use of the Hebrew term tamim with conflicting connotations. See Appendix B for the results of the accompanying semantic range study in classical Hebrew and Aramaic sources.

In fact, Ravikovitch consciously incorporates and skilfully shapes that which T. Carmi identifies as the inevitable intertextual engagement among layers of Hebrew. Carmi describes the phenomenon as follows:

Whether the poet wills it or not, there is often an element of counterpoint in Hebrew poetry. However colloquial the rhythms and even the diction, it is heard by the alert reader against the background of biblical poetry and of an uninterrupted poetic tradition. And some of the finest effects of modern poetry still result from the tension between everyday speech and the undertones and overtones of a shared heritage.74

In addition to facilitating intertextual counterpoint, there are instances in which Ravikovitch instates the sources to which she alludes differentially, pitting them one against the other, in order to interpolate ‘hermeneutic lag’75 and to facilitate a postmodern ‘sealing and unsealing’ of texts.

V. Contents of the Chapters

(i) Chapter One Dahlia Ravikovitch: Lamenting Poet

Chapter One traces Ravikovitch’s reputation as a ‘lamenting poet’ and demonstrates this title with passages from her poems. This chapter forms the basis for broadening Ravikovitch’s honorific to the ‘lamenting lovelorn soul’.

(ii) Chapter Two Faint With Love: Poetry As Self-writing

Chapter Two frames an articulation of self-writing situated within the broad genre of autobiographical writing. It then surveys the basic elements of self-writing in the oeuvre. These elements contribute to the speaker’s prismatic construction of ‘self’ in general and as a ‘lamenting lovelorn soul’ in particular. The excerpts chosen for illustrative

74 T. Carmi, ed., The Penguin Book of Hebrew Verse (New York: The Viking Press and Penguin Books, 1981) 47-48. For intertextual engagements in Ravikovitch’s poetry noted in this study, see the textual underpinnings and textual interchanges which enrich the portraits and the complex motifs in Chapters Three through Seven: a lovelorn soul, a golden apple, a figure of royalty and a skilled scribe, a shipwreck, a Torah scroll in flames, a soul on fire, the voice of responsibility pausing between heifers, and a poet simultaneously summoning pure memory while yearning to forget. 75 See n. 30.

purposes show that the persona offers constructions of ‘self’ in retrospect, in the moment, and in prospect. A commonality surfaces in the three aspects: the persona never manages to find love in suitable proportions. She was, is, and shall remain perpetually lovelorn!

(iii) Chapter Three Being the Apple: Forwarded Conventions of Biblical and Medieval Hebrew Literature in Modern Hebrew Poetry

The speaker chooses and develops a motif with a long and illustrious career in world literature: the apple. Chapter Three outlines the poet’s commencement of the corpus with a verbal portrait of herself specifically as a golden apple. Dahlia Ravikovitch incorporates the apple’s attributes from world literature. My work shows that she also deepens the apple’s calling exponentially on the strength of classical Jewish sources.

Through intertextual engagements, Ravikovitch encodes this figure of alterity with the gifts of eros, love, philosophy, alchemy, wisdom, belles lettres of fine poetry, passion, prophecy and pure essence verging on the secrets of creation. This golden apple seeks synthesized unity with the being she loves. She seeks to infuse that being, from within, with her own entity and endowments. Her gifts include the visual beauty of line and colour, sensory delights of fragrance and flavour, virtue and sensual pleasure. In an extraordinary feat of écriture féminine, she succeeds at both fusion with and suffusion of her beloved.

(iv) Chapter Four Figure of Royalty and a Skilled Scribe: Descent into Eros, Descent into Writing

As boldly independent and resilient as the persona may be as a golden apple in love, for this delicate soul love is a makka: an affliction that smites as severely as a plague. It renders her lovelorn and longing for relief.

This chapter examines a self-portrait in which the figure of alterity comes across as a figure of royalty and a skilled scribe, as a chanteuse longing to sing for the king. The chapter analyzes the encoded natural resources, upon which the persona draws in order to contend with her lovelorn condition, as the ‘white ink’ of écriture féminine. It is a

life-conferring force as potent as both eros, sexually defined, and as productive creativity. The chapter illustrates the convergence of the two for the royal poet-persona, both in the specific self-portrait and in the broader context of the poetic corpus. The nexus of erotic desire and creative vitality presents as the substance of existential sustenance which the persona profoundly craves in order to go on living, loving and writing.

(v) Chapter Five Persona on Fire: Portrait of a Shipwreck

Chapter Five examines a self-portrait in which the persona presents as a raging conflagration. She resolves to extinguish the blaze by sailing away in endless waters as a shipwreck. The chapter scrutinizes this motif which stems from talmudic literature. The speaker of this self-portrait imparts her status metaphorically as ‘other’: ‘other’ than Torah scroll and ‘other’ than sacred. She presents herself as ‘marginal’, ritually unfit and estranged from divine acceptance. In identifying as ‘other’ Ravikovitch fashions a persona who resembles Elisha ben Abuya who became known, in midrashic literature, as ’Aher – ‘Other’. Through a fiery death Ravikovitch’s persona projects a desired purification for her soul and its potential acceptance by God.

(vi) Chapter Six Voice of Responsibility

This chapter examines a self-portrait that functions on the collective level. As a member of the collective the persona takes responsibility for the sanctity of human life. She refuses to accept a status quo of divestment of responsibility for civilian fatalities which occur in struggles of attrition and skirmishes of ‘othering by stereotype’. In sounding her poetic vocal cords the persona lithely traverses cultural boundaries without incurring fatalities. In drifting effortlessly through the translucent membranes that divide mindsets, the persona seeks to shape a global mentality of responsibility and reverence for human life. This chapter identifies and demonstrates ‘hermeneutic lag’ as the means through which the poet paints her collective verbal self-portrait, and as the space in which she situates her voice of remonstration. This chapter addresses the portrait of ‘the voice of responsibility’ in a work of postmodern poetics.

I shall show that the theme of responsibility functions on the interpolation of ‘hermeneutic lag’. I shall show that the theme of remembering functions on the installation and subsequent subversion of that concept, facilitating the postmodern sealing and unsealing of the given text. I have not encountered any research that addresses these aspects of methodology in relation to Ravikovitch’s work; I therefore present these poetics as a new way to address the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch.

(vii) Chapter Seven Summoning Memory and Deliberate Forgetting

Chapter Seven shows a portrait of the poet engaged in the writing process on both the individual and collective levels, with a focus on memory. On the collective level she seeks a memory whose attributes have bearing on humanitarian issues. On the personal level she seeks a recollection whose scope permits her both access to the details of a particular memory and the luxury to allow some of them to fade away. This thesis applies the results of a semantic range study to the poem in order to show Ravikovitch’s verbal means to convey inner conflict.76 It identifies discordant connotations of the Hebrew word tamim, whose surface meaning is ‘pure’ or ‘perfect’. Accordingly, this thesis unveils a self-portrait picturing the persona negotiating the tension between a compulsion to remember and an impetus to forget.

(viii) Summary

The summary reviews the major brushstrokes that contribute to the poet’s prismatic self-portraiture. This chapter offers a glance at writing as the only emotionally comfortable space for the poet’s lovelorn soul to exist. The summary also sketches a possible direction for a comparative study entailing further inquiry into the work of Dahlia Ravikovitch.

76 The semantic range reveals Ravikovitch’s use of a loaded term. The term is laden not only with similar connotations as is expected, but with conflicting connotations as well.

Chapter One Dahlia Ravikovitch: Lamenting Poet 1.1 Preamble

Dahlia Ravikovitch is widely known as ‘the lamenting poet’. The original epithet grows naturally from an analysis of her work on the personal lyrical and collective expressive levels.1 In the chapters to come this study expands the title to the ‘lamenting lovelorn soul’. This chapter traces Ravikovitch’s modern Hebrew laments as the contemporary development of the ancient art of lamentation through its general purposes and conventions. It calls particular attention to lament in its capacity to communicate protest and to its role in returning proper presence to appropriated or silenced voices as a prelude to justice.

1.2 Lament: An Ancient Art Form and Honoured Profession

Lament as an art form is known to have existed since antiquity. Lament as a specialized skill and an honoured profession is recorded in Hebrew scriptures. In Jeremiah, for example, God projects a need for widespread lament and mourning as follows:

ה ְ ִתבּוֹנְנוּ וְק ְ ִראוּ לַמְקוֹנְנוֹת ְ וּת ֶ בוֹאינָה וְאֶל הַח ָ ֲכמוֹת שׁ ְ ִלחוּ ָ וְתבוֹאנָה: וּתְמַהֵרְנָה וְתִשֶּׂנָה עָלֵינוּ נֶהִי וְתֵרַדְנָה עֵינֵינוּ דִּמְעָה וְעַפְעַפֵּינוּ יִזְּ לוּ מָיִם:2

[…] Consider, and call for the mourning women, that they may come: and send for the skilful women, that they may come: and let them make haste, and take up a wailing for us, that our eyes may run down with tears, and our eyelids gush out with waters.3

1 In 1969, Mordecai Shalev wrote a set of newspaper articles called “Dahlia Ravikovitch: meshoreret meqonenet” [“Dahlia Ravikovitch: Lamenting Poet”]. The designation plays well in terms of assonance and metathesis with “Buba memukkenet” [“Wind Up Doll”; “Clockwork Doll”], among Ravikovitch’s early poems, and crystallizes a leaning in her work. The memorable title ensured that the epithet took hold among her readers. Henceforth: “Meshoreret meqonenet.” 2 Jeremiah 9:16-17. 3 The Jerusalem Bible (Jerusalem: Koren, 1997) Jeremiah 9:16-17. Henceforth: Koren Bible.

That lamentation was valued and considered an essential ritual at times of grief is demonstrated in the Mishna.4 To be respectable, even the least affluent of burial arrangements for a deceased spouse was to include the hiring of two musicians and a lamenter:

רבי יהודה אומר: אפילו עני שבישראל לא יפחות משני חלילים ומקוננת:5

Rabbi Yehuda says: Even the poorest in Israel should not have fewer than two flutes and a wailing woman. 1.3 Lament as Protest: ‘Exerting Voice’ In the Face of Injustice

The essence of lament is protest. It is effected through ‘exerting voice’ in unjust situations that rob people of a say and leave individuals bereft of words. Ravikovitch’s poetry both makes lamenting voices present and laments the absence of voices in realms where justice stands in question.

Justice is about respect for people’s voices and lives. A prelude to justice calls for ‘making present’ an equitable ratio of voices: voices of the living, the deceased, the mute, muted and unborn. This premise arises in all layers of Hebrew literature: biblical, rabbinic, medieval and modern. In the following biblical precedent voice is linked to lifeblood. Genesis reports a lethal brawl, scant on detail, between brothers in the field. God confronts Cain with reproach, saying:

מֶה ע ִ ָשׂ ָית קוֹל דְּמֵי ִ אָח ָיך צֹע ִ ֲקים אֵלַי מִן הָאֲדָמָה:6

What have you done? Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground!

In this case God makes the deceased’s voice present in absentia by conferring it upon Abel’s objecting blood.

4 mKetubot 4:4. 5 Loc. cit. 6 Genesis 4:10.

Genesis Rabba, a compilation of homiletical midrashim, quotes Rabbi Yudan’s exegetical elucidation of the collective form of the word for Abel’s blood as follows:

דם אחיך אין כתיב אלא דמי דמו ודם זרעו7.

What is written is not ‘your brother’s blood’, rather ‘bloods’: his blood and the blood of his descendants.

God thus ‘makes present’ the voices of those who cannot physically speak for themselves: the deceased as well as his never-to-be-born descendants. Mishna8 applies the same concept in warnings to witnesses in capital cases regarding the gravity of their responsibility:

הוו יודעין שלא כדיני ממונות דיני נפשות דיני ממונות אדם נותן ממון ומתכפר לו דיני נפשות דמו ודם זרעיותיו תלוין בו עד סוף העולם שכן מצינו בקין שהרג את אחיו [...]9

Know that capital cases are not as monetary suits. In monetary suits a person may give property and effect atonement; in capital cases the blood and the blood of the offspring depend on the individual until the end of the world, for we find concerning Cain who killed his brother […]10

The cautioning of witnesses in the Mishna11 proceeds with a reminder that human beings are created individually precisely in order to teach that scriptures equates the destruction of a single soul to the destruction of an entire universe; and similarly, scriptures equates the preservation of a single soul to the preservation of an entire

7 Genesis Rabba 22:9-10 in: Midrash Breishit Rabba: ‘im mar’ei meqomot ve-hilufei nusha’ot u-ferush Minhat Yehuda me’et Hanokh ’Albeck. Kitvei Ha-Aqademia le-Mada’ei ha-Yahadut; hotza’at Theodor Albeck. Hadpasa sheniya ‘im tiqqunim me’et Hanokh ’Albeck: (Yerushalayim, Defus Hemed, 1996. 3 vols.) Vol 2, 216. Henceforth: Albeck, Genesis Rabba. As well, Targum Onkelos for Genesis 4:10 reflects a midrashic stance that the blood crying out to God was that of the future descendants of slain Abel. 8 mSanhedrin 4:5. 9 Loc. cit.. 10 Translation based on: Pinhas Kehati, Mishnah: A New Translation With Commentary by Rabbi Pinhas Kehati, Edward Levin, transl. (Jerusalem: Eliner Library, Department of Torah Education and Culture in the Diaspora, 1987), mSanhedrin 4:5. Henceforth: Kehati Mishnah. 11 mSanhedrin 4:5.

universe. Justice entails giving, reviving and sustaining voice as it is linked to life or lifeblood. So does lament poetry.

1.4 Modern Hebrew Lament Poetry

Dahlia Ravikovitch enriches her lament poetry, in fact all genres of her poetry, with the echoes of classical Jewish sources. Her education is well grounded in the content, structures and cadences of the bible and the bodies of literature which sprang from it. She is well versed in the vernacular of her Levantine streets and alleyways, having grown up in Israel’s urban and rural settings: Ramat Gan, Kibbutz Geva and neighbourhoods of Haifa. In the surroundings of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, she studied modern and classical Hebrew literatures and honed her writing craft. Ravikovitch is adept at combining and contouring layers and registers of Hebrew for impact and resonance.

Ravikovitch, like a number of her colleagues such as Yehuda Amichai, Savyon Librecht, David Avidan, David Grossman and Amos Oz, is of the conviction that we need to amplify ‘underheard’ human voices, especially those concerned with human needs and humane interests, not those concerned with vestiges of hegemony. Amichai couches this conviction as follows:

A group of tourists was standing around their guide and I became their target marker. ‘You see that man with the baskets? Just right of his head there’s an arch from the Roman period.’ […] I said to myself: redemption will only come if their guide tells them, ‘You see that arch from the Roman period? It’s not important: but next to it, left and down a bit, there sits a man who’s bought fruit and vegetables for his family.’12

In the act of lamenting the scarcity of such voices Amichai succeeds in making at least one heard.

12 Yehuda Amichai, “Tourists,” transl. Glenda Abramson and Tudor Parfitt in: Yehuda Amichai: Poems of Jerusalem (Jerusalem and Tel Aviv: Schocken, 1987a. Bilingual edition.) 176-177.

Eliaz Cohen, a younger contemporary of Ravikovitch, writes directly to God. Cohen protests that God’s voice is sometimes ‘underheard’ or missing. Cohen is perturbed on behalf of those who did not13 and cannot14 hear God’s voice in moments when lives are imperiled and extinguished in the name of elitism and supremacy. He uses the wording and structure of Keri’at Shema, a central doxology15 of Jewish liturgy, to challenge God to at least listen to his voice:

שְׁמַע אֲדֹ-נָי, יִשְׂרָאֵל עַמּ ֶָך יִשׂרָאֵל אֶחָד וְאָהַב ְָתּ אֶת יִשׁ ְָראֵל עַמּ ֶָך בְּכָל לְבָב ְָך וּבְכָל נַפְשׁ ְָך וּבְכָל ְ מאֹד ֶָך ָ וְהיוּ הַבָּנִים הָאֵלֶּה אֲשֶׁר נֶהֱרָגִים עָל ֶָיך כָּל ַ היּוֹם עַל לְבָב ְָך וְשִׁנַּנְתָּם בִּר ִ ְקיע ֶָיך וְדִבַּר ְָתּ בָּם: [...]16

Hear, O Lord, Israel your People Israel is One

Love Israel your People with all your heart with all your soul and with all your might And these children who are being killed over you all day long17 you shall

13 A reference within the poem to glowing blue numbers on arms evokes the branding of Holocaust victims who perished without hearing God’s voice. 14 “Hear, O God” is the titular poem in a book of Eliaz Cohen’s work. Its subtitle makes reference to “the Disturbances of 2000-2004”. This was a period of intifada in Israel. 15 Keri’at Shema, enveloped in blessings, is a central theological element of the morning and evening liturgy. Eliaz Cohen has composed his version especially for the solemn annual High Holy Days. In Hebrew these are referred to as the Yamim nora’im – Days of Awe, a concept which comes across in Cohen’s context as ‘Awful’ Days. The initial line of this prayer which Cohen has ironically inverted, proclaims the unity of God: “Listen, Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.” See: Jonathan Sacks, ed. and transl., The Koren Siddur, (Jerusalem: Koren, 2009) 98-99. 16 Eliaz Cohen, “Shema ado-nai,” Shema ado-nai: mi-shirei me’ora‘ot 2000-2004 (Raanana: Even Hoshen, 2004) 7. 17 This expression, “And these children who are being killed over you all day long” evokes Psalms 44:23: ki ’alekha horagnu kol ha-yom – “Yet for your sake we are killed the whole day long.” This is a direct allusion to the content of Psalms 44 in which there is an outcry to God to awake from slumber and a rhetorical probe as to the reason for the aversion of God’s attention while the speakers are left

take to heart and you shall diligently teach Them in your firmament and recite Them: […]

Ravikovitch concentrates on presenting ‘underheard’ human and humane voices. By contrast she perceives voices which wield overbearing power, such as that of intolerance, abuse, violence and war as abhorrent, and the injustices inevitably drawn into their wake as anathema. She was an impressionable youngster when Holocaust survivors in Israel shared initial whispers of the atrocities of the Sho’a. She was active as an adult in grass roots peace movements with wide reaching tendrils and worked to ‘make voice present’ for all parties. The sole weapon she wielded in her professional life against injustice is protest, channelled through irony and poems of lament.

As examples we need only hear a sampling of Ravikovitch’s titles on the injustices of wars and incursions. The following are included in her 1987 book sardonically titled ’Ahava ’amitit18: Ba-tzafon qofe’im,19 Tinoq lo horegim pa‘amayim,20 ‘Egla ‘arufa [Neckbroken Heifer] and ‘Al ha-yahas li-yeladim be-‘itot milhama.21

Below are excerpts from two types of contemporary Hebrew lament poems which protest injustice. The first revives, performs and sustains voices of parties concerned with lifeblood. The second laments the absence of voice.

unprotected as “sheep for slaughter”. They are dying ’al qiddush ha-shem: they are being slaughtered over their defence of God’s sanctity. 18 Dahlia Ravikovitch, “’Ahava ’amitit,” [“Real Love,”] (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz hameuchad, 1987). 19 Ravikovitch, “Ba-tzafon qofe’im,” [“Up North People are Freezing,”] Kol ha-shirim, 247-248. 20 Ravikovitch, “Tinoq lo horegim pa‘amayim,” [“You Do Not Kill a Baby Twice,] Kol ha-shirim, 249-250. 21 Ravikovitch, “‘Al ha-yahas li-yeladim be-‘itot milhama,” [“On the Attitude Toward Children in Wartime,”] Kol ha-shirim, 255-266.

(i) Presenting Lamenting Voices

Ravikovitch’s poem ’Eikh Hong Kong nehersa22 [How Hong Kong Was Destroyed] grieves over the deplorable plight of child-prostitutes in Hong Kong. It concurrently mourns the level to which the civilization of the legendary silk route has sunk. The children, in lament within the lament, weep over the toll taken on their bodies and the loss of human life around them. Sadly the perfunctory platitude they utter upon learning of murder makes the event sound like a recognized and routine part of their experience of the world.

Only the little prostitutes are still receiving their guests in stained silk clothes, in little booths full of lanterns. A few of them weep in the morning over their rotting flesh.

22 Ravikovitch, “’Eikh Hong Kong nehersa,” Kol ha-shirim, 119-121. 23 Loc. cit.

And if someone is killed they ask: Ho-ho Chinese or Black? Poor soul, hopefully he didn’t die in agony. And already at twilight the first guests arrive […] Hong Kong is over the ocean, suspended like a colourful lantern on a hook at the edge of the world. […] And only the little prostitutes weep in their silk that the men are still still pinching them in the stomach. […] Where Hong Kong once stood there is a pink stain, half in the sky, half in the sea.

This poem exhibits some of the classic hallmarks of biblical and medieval Hebrew lament. Phrases are repeated as refrain: “Only the little prostitutes are […] / And only the little prostitutes weep […]” Weeping and aspirated sounds such as “Ho-ho” are incorporated imparting an element of ritual crying. The motif of pinching one’s own flesh or beating one’s own body24 as a practice of skilled lamenting women in order to elicit their own empathetic staccato sounds of anguish. It is dreadfully upsetting that the grown men mentioned sadistically inflict parallel torment on the children.

The anonymous speaker observes in stages that the once poppy-red of Chinese silk associated with the local robes and lanterns, becomes stained and subsequently drained of its rich hue. Instead of comparing the region’s grandeur to the most magnificent of flora, fauna or heavenly hosts,25 as was standard practice for praise in

24 Among the grief and lament rituals which the Mishna discusses in relation to burials occurring on rabbinic holidays, mMo‘ed Qatan 3 9 outlines the lament-linked practice of beating one’s own body. 25 In medieval Hebrew poetry grandeur is often invoked through comparisons of the subject to the heavenly hosts and phenomena of natural beauty. For example, in a panegyric dedicated to the memory of his patron, Solomon Ibn Gabirol compares the venerated Yequtiel Ibn Hasan to the setting sun clad in crimson silkspun threads, cloaked in the scarlet of the western sky: רְאֵה שֶֶׁמשׁ לְעֵת עֶרֶב אֲדֻמָּה/ כְּאִלּוּ לָבְשָׁה תוֹלָע לְמִכְסֶה תְּפַשֵּׁט פַּאֲתֵי צָפוֹן וְיָמִין/ ו ְַרוּח יָם בְּאַרְגָּמָן תְּכַסֶּה, [...] Solomon Ibn Gabirol, “‘Al mot Yequti’el,” [“Upon the Death of Yequtiel,”] Ha-shira ha-ivrit bi-sefarad u- ve-provence, Hayim Schirmann, ed. (Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, 1960; fourth printing 2006), Vol. 1, 202. Henceforth: HPSP.

biblical and medieval Hebrew lament, the speaker conveys the faded, sullied status of Hong Kong’s former glory. She underscores the decline by projecting the fractured image of Hong Kong as a distant blemish, beyond the reaches of the horizon.

In ‘making present’ the voices of the child-prostitutes the poet is attuned to their natural mindset: that is, as children they do not necessarily perceive the full extent of the injustices forced upon them. Instead they focus on specifics that ail them in their immediate present: the physical signs of decay that they notice upon dressing; the trepidation that they feel when they hear of a murder; the insult and pain that they bear when they are “still / still” pinched. This trend of tender age makes their plight all the more heartbreaking.

The plaintive tone that comes through their faltering repetition is reminiscent of weeping. A similar effect was formalized as a distinctive metric convention of biblical and medieval Hebrew laments. It is known as miqtzav ha-tzole‘a – the limping metre. The verbal limping was predicated on syllable manipulation. The soger – closing hemistich of a stanza is a syllable or two shorter than its delet – opening hemistich.26 The metric imbalance produces mimetic weeping.

Behold the sun toward evening, red / as though dressed in crimson silken garb, She will shed the last glimmers of north and east / and don the scarlet of the west wind, […] In describing the physical grandeur of a beloved, Ibn Gabirol compares her statuesque physique to a stately tree and her splendour to the that of the sun (HPSP Vol. 1, 213): כְּתָמָר ְאַתּ ְ בּקוֹמָת ְֵך/ וְכַשֶּׁמֶשׁ בְּיָפְיָת ְֵך, [...] You are like a date palm in stature / and as the sun in beauty, […] He addresses another unidentified young woman as a dove and as a flower indigenous to the land of Israel, both named in connection with the Song of Songs (HPSP Vol. 1, 195): ְוְאַתּ יוֹנָה חֲבַצֶּלֶת ְ שׁרוֹנִים [...] And you, O dove, rose of Sharon 26 A classic example is evident in II Samuel 19:1, in the lament of King David over the death of his estranged son Absalom who became entangled by the hair in an oak tree while fleeing. The second part of the lament is two syllables shorter than its precedent, conveying the faltering speech that occurs during weeping:

By amplifying the voices of the child-prostitutes Dahlia Ravikovitch protests injustices committed by those adults who exert inappropriate authority over children’s psyches and bodies. She is all too familiar with insufferable, inequitable power circumstances from the days of her own childhood. From age six and a half to age thirteen she was physically and emotionally abused by a certain “HG”.27 “HG” was the adult in charge of the after-school agricultural work of the children at the kibbutz28 where she lived from age six. This was during the period following the death of her father in a car accident.29 The malevolent “HG” compounded the abuse with social ostracism by manipulating the collective sanctions of Ravikovitch’s peers. He thus ensured that justice and voice eluded her on all fronts. From these experiences, Ravikovitch intuited ways to make speech present for those whose voices had been appropriated.

Yehuda Amichai is also adroit at making speech present on behalf of those in distress. He does so by portraying voices almost graphically. In a poem that begins on two facing mountain tops Amichai pictures people from two separate communities, each in urgent quest: a shepherd in search of his goat and a father in search of his little boy:

רוֶֹעה ֲע ָר ִבי ְמ ַחֵפּשׂ גְּ ִדי ְבּ ַהר ִציּוֹן, וּ ָב ָהר ִממּוּל ֲא נִי ְמ ַחֵפּשׂ ֶאת ְבּ נִי ַה ָקּ ָטן. רוֶֹעה ֲע ָר ִבי וְאָב יְהוּ ִדי

בְּנִי אַב ָ ְשׁלוֹם בְּנִי בְנִי [...] אַב ָ ְשׁלוֹם בְּנִי בְנִי: My son Absalom my son, my son […] Absalom my son, my son. 27 Dahlia Karpel, “Ba’a ve-halekha,” Ha-’aretz: Musaf, 18.08.06. Karpel wrote a biographical retrospective a year after the poet died. Dahlia Ravikovitch, her twin brothers and mother moved to Qevutzat Geva after Levi Ravikovitch was killed in a car accident. Karpel explains that Ravikovitch never fully acclimated to the ways of kibbutz life or the social conventions. By age thirteen and a half, she went to live in Haifa and proceeded to go through a series of foster families. 28 A character in Ravikovitch’s prose is modelled on this individual. He applies the pointed toe of his shoe to the bare heels of the kibbutz children to hurry them along to the fields; he limits their water-drinking privileges while they work in the hot sun; and he micromanages the sentiments and self-importance of the members of the student tribunal which has the power to elevate or ostracize its members. 29 Ravikovitch’s father, Levi Ravikovitch, born Leo in Russia, had come to Israel from Hong Kong.

ְבּ ִכ ְשׁלוָֹנם ַה זְּ ַמ נִּי. קוֹלוֹת ְשֵׁנינוּ נִ ְפָגּ ִשׁים ֵמַעל ִבְרֵכַת הַשֻּׂלְטָן בָּעֵמֶק בָּאֶמְצַע. [...] ַאַחר - כּ ְָך מ ָ ָצאנוּ אוֹתָם ֵ בּין ה ִ ַשּׂ ִ יחים, ֵ וְקוֹלוֹתינוּ חָזְ רוּ אֵלֵינוּ ָ וּבכוּ וְצָחֲקוּ בִּפְנִים.

An Arab shepherd is searching for his goat on Mount Zion and on the opposite mountain I am searching for my little boy. An Arab shepherd and a Jewish father both in their temporary failure. Our voices meet above the Sultan’s pool in the valley between us. […]

Afterward we found them among the bushes and our voices came back inside us, laughing and crying.30

United by the significance of their respective searches, the voices of the shepherd and the father meet. If voices were visible we might picture them unfurling horizontally toward one another. Perhaps each would resemble the voice of the ram’s horn reported as seen by all Israelites while standing in ceremony at the foot of Mount Sinai.31

Regrettably, once the ‘kids’ are found the unity dissipates. The voices disengage and ultimately retreat into their separate larynxes. The lament is reserved for the end:

ה ִ ַח ִ פּוּשׂים אַחַר גְּדִי אוֹ אַחַר בֵּן ָ היוּ תּ ִ ָמיד הַתְחָלַת דָּת חֲדָשָׁה בֶּה ִ ָרים הָאֵלֶּה.

30 Yehuda Amichai, “An Arab Shepherd is Searching for His Goat on Mount Zion,” transl. Chana Bloch in: Yehuda Amichai: Poems of Jerusalem (Jerusalem and Tel Aviv: Schocken, 1987b. Bilingual edition.) 142-143. Henceforth: Amichai, “Shepherd.” 31 Exodus 20:14. וְכָל הָעָם ִ רֹאים אֶת ַ הקּוֹלֹת וְאֶת הַלּ ִ ַפּידִם וְאֵת קוֹל ַ השֹּׁפָר וְאֶת הָהָר עָשֵׁן ...

And all the people were seeing the thunder and the lightning and the sound of the ram’s horn and the mountain smoking …

Searching for a goat or a son has always been the beginning of a new religion in these mountains.32

What sounds like a fresh beginning underscoring shared values concludes as an age- old chronicle of separateness. The hopeful gesture toward personal ties, spiritual synchronicity, domestic and global accord is abruptly undermined. The valley has become an abyss. After all, asked Heidegger, “What are poets for?”33 They are for singing songs of the abyss. After all, according to Bialik, what are poems for? They are to convey the song, tears and laughter that “rise from the void.”34 At least poets and poems do sing or laugh or cry. At least their voices are heard.

(ii) Lamenting the Absence of Voice

In Rehifa be-gova namukh35 by Dahlia Ravikovitch we hear no glimmer of promise at all. The poem is about the rape of a young shepherdess isolated in the mountains. Not only does the subject evince no hope, she emits no voice whatsoever. The speaker is so affected by the violence to the shepherdess and her own shock that she can barely muster her own voice. She is immobile, suspended as if in mid-air. It takes all her resources to hover at low altitude and insist over and over in mantra-like refrain, “I am not here. / […] I am not here.”

וְהַקְּטַנָּה עֵינ ֶָיה רַק ח ְ ָרגוּ ֵ מ ֵ חוֹריהֶן חִכָּה יָבֵשׁ כַּחֶרֶס, כְּשֶׁיָּד קָשָׁה לָפְתָה אֶת שְׂעָרָהּ וְאָחֲזָה בָּהּ ְ ללּא ק ְ ֻרטוֹב חֶמְלָה.36

32 Yehuda Amichai, “Shepherd,” 142-143. 33 Martin Heidegger, “What Are Poets For?” Poetry, Language, Thought (New York: Perennial Classics, 2001. Originally published as New York: Harper and Row, 1971) 87. 34 Bialik writes of the impact of awe conveyed by words at their naissance. He adds that where words leave off, languages of song, tears and laughter can carry on, in: H. N. Bialik, “Giluy ve-kisuy ba- lashon,” Knesset: divrei sifrut ed. H. N. Bialik (Ha-keren li-temikhat soferim mi-yesodo shel Hillel Zaltopolsky; Bezarna: Defus Moriya, 1915) 251-258. 35 Dahlia Ravikovitch, “Rehifa be-gova namukh,” [“Hovering at Low Altitude,”] Kol ha-shirim, 219-221. 36 Loc. cit.

And the little one her eyes just bulged out of their sockets her palette dry as earthenware, while a rough hand stroked her hair and gripped her without a single iota of compassion.

This lament poem has traveled a fair distance from its classic ancestor. This one does not ask ’eikh or ’eikha? meaning “how?”37 nor ‘ad ’ana?38 ‘ad matai?39 meaning “until when?” revealing minute hope for release from suffering. It does not hint at daring to fantasize future with phrases like mi yiten…40 – “If only…” In the spectre of rape it does not anticipate at all. Voice is so curtailed that the poem, in fact, barely sings. With the voice of her pen, however, Ravikovitch does manage to protest the inertia that stands in the way of intervention in atrocities of inhumane brutal force.

37 The words ’eikh and ’eikha initiate the classic rhetorical questions of biblical laments. David laments the deaths of King Saul and Jonathan, repeating a refrain of ’eikh nafelu gibborim –“how the mighty are fallen” in II Samuel 1:17-27. The scroll of Lamentations, called ’Eikha in Hebrew, opens with that very rhetorical question: ’Eikha – “How is it possible for the city to sit solitary, the city that was teeming with people? How is it she has become like a widow?” (Lamentations 1:1). 38 Another classic rhetorical question of biblical laments begins with ‘ad ’ana – “How long?” “Until when?” Psalms 13:2 asks this question and repeats it as refrain: “How long will you forget me, O Lord? Forever? How long will you avert your face from me?” 39 ‘Ad matai is similar to ‘ad ’ana in meaning and function. Psalms 80:5, for example, incorporates ‘ad matai in the following rhetorical question lamenting God’s suspension of merciful attention: “[…] how long will you be angry against the prayer of your people?” In his early modern Hebrew poetry, Bialik uses a combination of these rhetorical laments to challenge ‘Heaven’ and Justice to demonstrate presence and mercy in view of the terrifying pogroms of Kishinev in 1903. In: H. N. Bialik, “’Al ha- shehita,” Hayyim Nahman Bialik: ha-shirim, Avner Holtzman, ed., (Tel Aviv: Devir, 2004) 249, Bialik writes: אֲנִי- לִבִּי מֵת ֵ וְאין עוֹד תְּפִלָּה בִּשְָׂפתָי, וּכְבָר אָזְלַת יָד אַף - ֵ אין תִּקְוָה עוֹד- עַד-מָתַי, עַד-אָנָה, עַד - מָתָי?

I – my heart has died and there is no more prayer upon my lips, And I’m already powerless and there is no more hope – How long, until when, how long? 40 Mi yiten is not limited to laments but used frequently in them to express a rhetorical desire akin to ‘if only’. In Jeremiah 8:23 the prophet Jeremiah presents God’s disappointment over the backsliding ways of the people and the inclination to lament the ends they have provoked God to mete out: “If only my head were waters and my eyes a spring of tears, that I might weep day and night over the slain ones of the daughter of my people.”

1.5 An Equitable Calculus of Voices in the Face of Injustice

Like their biblical and medieval ancestors, the speakers of some modern Hebrew laments such as that of Shema adonai by Eliaz Cohen, rail against the phenomenon of hester panim – the perceived aversion of God’s face from human predicaments. Some modern Hebrew laments such as ’Eikh Hong Kong nehersa and Rehifa be-gova namukh by Dahlia Ravikovitch, rail against the aversion of society’s attention from human injustices. With remonstration in mind Walter Bruggeman posits the purpose of protest as an instrument that:

[…] shifts the calculus and redresses the distribution of power between the two parties, so that the petitionary party is taken seriously and the God who is addressed is newly engaged in the crisis in a way that puts God at risk.41

In reframing I shall take the liberty of borrowing the term “calculus” from Walter Bruggeman. Lament in general revives, performs and sustains voice. Contemporary Hebrew lament poetry serves as protest whose function is to ‘make present’ an equitable calculus of voices in the face of injustice.

1.6 The Need for Contemporary Laments: To Revive the Spoken Word and Reconstruct Worlds

Justice will only be served if people suffering from violence and oppression manage to find their own voices again and to reconstruct their destroyed universes. Rachel Adler attends to the potential of laments in this regard.

In a memorial lecture delivered in March 2006 in New York, Rachel Adler outlined a history and the essential properties of laments. A central tenet of Adler’s thinking builds on observations advanced by Elaine Scarry in her book called The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World.42 As the title suggests a person’s universe comes

41 Walter Bruggeman, “The Costly Loss of Lament,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, 36 (1986): 59. I thank Rachel Adler for this reference. 42 Elaine Scarry, The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985.) Henceforth: Scarry, The Body in Pain.

apart at the seams as a result of excruciating pain. Further, the agony unravels one’s sense of self and “all that gives rise to and is in turn made possible by language.”43 Scarry adds that “to be present when the person in pain rediscovers speech is almost to be present at the birth or rebirth of language.”44

It is the language aspect coupled with the deconstruction of the individual’s cosmos that intrigues Rachel Adler. She envisions this combination as the flip side of the creation of the world through the spoken word. She positions lament and its properties as desperately needed language and ritual for moments when speech has evaporated as a result of the destruction of a person’s world. It follows that to be present when words of lament are uttered, is to be present at the groundbreaking ceremony for the recreation of the individual’s personal universe.

Rachel Adler broadens Elaine Scarry’s findings positing that many of the conclusions regarding physical pain “are also germane to sufferings from emotional and spiritual pain.”45 To magnify I would assert that they apply to situations of oppression, violence and overbearing power so overt, or so subtle, that an individual or a group is left temporarily or permanently bereft of speech.

In commenting on the role of meqonenot – the professional lamenting women known in biblical and rabbinic sources, Mordecai Shalev compares bereavement to infancy. Just as in infancy when a baby cries without the ability to express sensations in words and the caregivers must try to discern what the baby is feeling and needs, so must the lamenters take the part of the bereaved. About contemporary mourning, mourner and lamentation Shalev writes:

It is a legitimate, ritualized, recognized regression that occurs in order to prevent an individual, private, regression that ravages;

43 Scarry, The Body in Pain, 30. 44 Scarry, The Body in Pain, 172. 45 Rachel Adler, “A Theology of Lament,” [a speech presented on March 15, 2006 at HUC/JIR, New York: Dr. Samuel Atlas Memorial Lecture: For These I Weep.] This speech is posted online at: huc.edu/chronicle/68/articles/TheologyLament. Adler delivered excerpts of this speech on November 9, 2006 at the University of Toronto, Wolfond Centre.

and the lamenter who speaks about the ‘she’, or speaks on her behalf, to the ‘you’ – fulfils, for her, an essential role.46

During a session given at the University of Toronto in the fall of 2006 Rachel Adler expressed a strong interest in the composition of contemporary laments for instances in which words elude even the most articulate: the dissolution of a long term committed relationship, miscarriage, rape. Language itself is insufficient to express the extent of the turmoil and experience of injustice. Contemporary laments would help fill the gap in voice and serve as a first step toward reconstructing a person’s world.

1.7 Summary: Lamenting Soul

To make it a world where justice can prevail all voices concerned must be sounded and heard. Contemporary Hebrew lament, in its capacity as protest against injustice, is an instrument that can ‘make present’ an equitable calculus of voices so that justice may be brought to bear. Lament has the potential to keep our palettes moist and to keep our feet firmly on the ground so that our mouths can take on the demands of moral responsibility. Lament has the potential to prevent voices from being silenced, stolen or even temporarily lost and to prevent people’s voices from retreating inside themselves. Lament has the potential to keep voices meeting, over terra firma, not just over the proverbial abyss. It can help deconstruct disrupted worlds and reconstruct whole ones. Lament can help sustain human dignity and life in the present; and lament can help sustain human dignity and many more lives in the future.

1.8 Dahlia Ravikovitch: Lamenting Lovelorn Soul

As this chapter shows, the original epithet ‘lamenting poet’ emerges from an examination of the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch. The heading of Shalev’s newspaper articles ensured that the title took hold among her readers. Forty years on, through analysis of more of the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch, the coming chapters develop and expand her title of respect as the ‘lamenting lovelorn soul’.

46 Mordecai Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” Part 4, Ha-’aretz: musaf, 2.4.69

Chapter Two Faint With Love: Poetry As Self-writing 2.1 Preface

As set out in the thesis statement and description of methodology, this study examines the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch as self-writing, nestled in the wide embrace of écriture féminine: it regards selected poems as the verbal self-portraiture of their speaker. This chapter surveys the basic elements of self-writing in the oeuvre which contribute to the speaker’s prismatic construction of self in general, and as a lovelorn persona in particular. These elements are illustrated with excerpts of Ravikovitch’s poems.

The excerpts chosen show that the persona offers constructions of self in retrospect, in the moment, and in prospect. Aspects of the poems which epitomize the persona’s poetry as écriture féminine, aspects of her unique and uniquely encoded figures d’altérité, and aspects of the poetry enriched through postmodern poetics, will be highlighted in relation to seminal verbal self portraits, as the chapters unfold. To begin, below is an articulation of self-writing situated within the broad genre of autobiographical writing.

2.2 Self-writing

Self-writing is one of the strands of writing sheltered under the capacious canopy of autobiographical writing. The term ‘self-writing’ conveys a process of construction of self through writing that does not adhere to a linear narrative as does much of memoir, and is not confined to prose as is a preponderance of the autobiographical genre.

In outlining the evolution of autobiography, Timothy Dow Adams notes some relatively recent shifts. One salient modification is a broadening of the scope of autobiography to include forms previously not taken into account:

[…] in addition to biography, memoir and diary, literary scholars began to consider journal, letters, personal literary criticism, confession, oral history, daybook, documentary, travel writing, testimonio, film

and television autobiographies, performance art, and as-told-to autobiography, as well as poetry.1

Poetry, then, is acknowledged as having made its way into the canon of autobiography. The artifacts of self-writing in poetry may be considered verbal ‘metaphors of self’, to borrow an idiom from a book title by James Olney.2 This study will ultimately examine some specific ‘metaphors of self’ that the persona presents in the corpus: among them are a golden apple, a poet, a figure of royalty, a skilled scribe, a shipwreck and a voice of responsibility. This initial chapter will focus on the phenomenon of construction of self in general and survey the elements that inform the construction of this self.

Construction of self through self-writing is acknowledged, in studies of gendered self- identity, to be a central enterprise of women’s autobiographical writing.3 What is striking about Ravikovitch’s work is that in the process of self-construction, her persona conveys not only retrospect and the somewhat less commonly countenanced prospect, but her contemporary self as well.

The contemporary self requires a complex and demanding writing process of self- construction for, as the philosopher Heraclites, cited in Plato’s Cratylus,4 pointed out long ago, it is not possible to step more than once into the identical river. The flow of time and the flow of the current make the present moment a bygone moment in less time than it takes for a heart to beat. Ravikovitch’s persona accomplishes contemporary projections of self largely by writing her bios through her consciousness.

The term “bios” is used in this study in the way that Olney offers as “both the course of a life seen as a process, rather than a stable entity, and the unique psychic configuration

1 Timothy Dow Adams, preface, Light Writing and Life Writing: Photography in Autobiography (Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press, 2000) xi-xxii. Henceforth: Adams Light Writing and Life Writing. 2 James Olney, Metaphors of Self (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972). 3 Personal Narratives Group, Interpreting Women’s Lives: Feminist Theory and Personal Narratives (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1989) 5. 4 Plato, Cratylus, transl. C.D. C. Reeve (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1998), xliv –xlvi.

that is this life and no other.”5 The term “consciousness” is referred to in the context that James Olney proposes as follows:

[…]’life’ where it does not signify an historical matter, the course of a certain number of years, but instead means spirit, or vital principle, or the act of consciousness, or transcendent reality… Life in all these latter senses does not stretch back across time but extends down to the roots of individual being; it is atemporal, committed to a vertical thrust from consciousness down into the unconscious rather than to a horizontal thrust from the present into the past. 6

This aspect of ‘transcendent reality’ with its vertical descent into the unconscious is similar to a concept that Hélène Cixous advances as central to the writing process of écriture féminine.7 As will be seen through examination of the persona’s verbal self- portraits in the coming chapters, much of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poetry exemplifies this process.

2.3 Lovelorn Persona

Overall the persona of the poems portrays herself as acutely lovelorn and torn between remembrance and forgetting in matters of love and death. She is holat ’ahava – as deeply lovesick as the female figure at the heart of one of the love poems in the Song of Songs. That figure sings in a tone close to lament:

ס ְ ַמּכוּנִי בָּא ִ ֲשׁישׁוֹת רַפְּדוּנִי בּ ַ ַתּ ִ פּוּחים כִּי חוֹלַת אַהֲבָה אָנִי:8

Sustain me with sweet-delicacies, Bolster me with apples, For I am sick with love.9

5 Olney, “Memory/Bios,” 241. 6 Olney, “Memory/Bios,” 239. 7 Hélène Cixous, Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing, trans. Sarah Cornell and Susan Sellers (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993) 118. Henceforth: Cixous, Ladder of Writing. 8 Song of Songs 2:5. 9 Song of Songs 2:5. See also: Introduction: Segment (i) Lamenting Poet, Lovelorn Soul.

At the heart of the persona’s lovesickness is a sad reality: she suffers from love. She never manages to find love in the ‘right’ proportions. She receives too little and gives too much. Her awareness that she suffers a dearth of love on the receiving end contributes to a flawed construction of self. Her awareness arises from an indelible memory etched during childhood and resounds in the following words:

הוּא ֵ אינוֹ יָכוֹל לְדַבֵּר לִי מִלַּת אַהֲבָה אַחַת.10

He is unable to utter a single word of love.

The speaker’s father, struck down by a car, is the subject of the excerpt above. The void left in the speaker’s soul by virtue of his inaccessible love plays a critical role in the way she perceives her self. As a potential recipient of love, its inaccessibility leaves her forever in want.

Apprehending that even all the love in the world would be too little for her, the speaker perseverates over love in the abstract:

ִ אלּוּ יָכֹלְתִּי לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך כֻּל ְָך ֵ א ְיך אֶפְשָׁר לִי לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך כֻּל ְָך,11

If I could have all of you how could I possibly get all of you

The speaker who laments that love is not always accessible realizes that she, herself, goes ‘overboard’ when she falls in love:

אָהַבְתִּי אוֹתוֹ ְ כּמוֹ שֶׁחַמָּנִית אוֹהֶבֶת אֶת הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ ְ וּכמוֹ שׁ ִ ֶהיא נוֹטָה אֵלָיו. וְלֹא מִפְּנֵי ֶ שׁהוּא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ וְלֹא שֶׁאֲנִי חַמָּנִית.12

10 Ravikovitch, (untitled) “[‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela],” [“Standing on the Road at Night”], Kol ha-shirim, 24. 11 Ravikovitch, “Hishtadlut nosefet,” [“Another Attempt,”] Kol ha-shirim, 83-84. 12 Ravikovitch, “Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur,” “[Limits,”] Kol ha-shirim, 178.

I loved him as a sunflower loves the sun and leans toward it. Not that he’s the sun nor I a sunflower.

The hints of inclination toward sun worship suggest that the speaker’s excesses in loving reach near-idolatrous proportions.13

The persona laments that even familial love can fall short, in a poem whose title speaks volumes:

הָאֲהָבָה הָא ִ ֲמ ִ יתית ֵ אינָּה כְּפִי שׁ ִ ֶהיא נִר ֵ ְאית.14

True Love Is Not All That It Seems.

In the same poem the speaker laments her observation that people love themselves with more devotion than they do their friends, their children, and colleagues, and at present with more attentiveness than even they had lavished upon themselves previously. Despite the fact that this love of self represents a degree of improvement in disposition, she finds it fatally lamentable for it constitutes only a pitifully minor increment:

[...]לִפְנֵי חֳד ִ ָשׁים מְע ִ ַטּים נִתְקַף גּוּפֵנוּ כּ ִ ְמיהָה חֲזָקָה לְהַשׁ ִ ְל ְיך אֶת ע ְ ַצמוֹ בִּד ִ ְחיפוּת מִן הַגָּג.15

[…] a mere two months ago our body was seized by a powerful yen to urgently hurl itself from the rooftop.

The persona experiences an impulse to die when she feels lovesick, whether from giving too much or receiving too little. This phenomenon is apparent in a number of poems in which the persona, suffering in the context of love, resolves to go up in flames

13 The inclination toward the sun is reminiscent of ancient sun worship, such as the veneration of the ancient Egyptian sun deity, Ra. 14 Ravikovitch, “Ha-’ahava ha-’amitit ’eina kefi she-hi nir’eit,” Kol ha-shirim, 242-243. 15 Loc. cit.

or extinguish her pain in the depths of the ocean. A self-portrait that encompasses both will be examined in Chapter Five.

In more attenuated moments of reflection on the casual ease she observes of people in enjoying love and life, the persona is given to lament. In a poem called Shiveron Lev ba- gan16 [Heartbreak in the Park] the speaker observes the natural manner of parents, seniors, truant schoolchildren and waterfowl. What gives her pause are the couples keeping one another company in the café. Their courtship behaviour and the eros that proliferates in the atmosphere, as the vapours of Ravikovitch’s symbolic ‘vanilla’,17 break the speaker’s heart and appropriate her power of speech:

בְּהַיְד פַּארְק ַ הזּוֹר ֵַח, […] שַׂמְתִּי לִבִּי לְה ִ ָבין שֶׁכָּל ַ ההוֹל ְֵך לְשָׁעָה כּ ִ ְאלּוּ אָבַד ְ לעוֹלָם. ִ ממּוּל, בַּקָּפֶה הֶעָנֹג, נָפוֹץ ֵ ר ַיח וָנִיל. גְּב ִ ָרים ִ נְע ִ ימים ְ אָספוּ אֶת מ ִ ְעיל ֵ נְשׁיהֶם […] . כָּל אֵלֶּה שׁ ְ ָברוּ אֶת לִבִּי, מִפִי נֶע ְ ְתּקוּ מ ִ ִלּים.18

In glowing Hyde Park, [...] I attempted to understand that what is transient is forever lost

Opposite, in the café, diffuse was the scent of vanilla. Nice gentlemen took the coats of their ladies. […] All these broke my heart, Words were banished from my mouth.

16 Ravikovitch, “Shiveron lev ba-gan,” Kol ha-shirim, 91-92. 17 See ‘vanilla’ initially discussed in the Introduction, pages 4-5. See also Chapter Four, Section 4.6 (i) Vanilla Unveiled: The ‘White Ink’ of Écriture Féminine. 18 Ravikovitch, “Shiveron lev ba-gan,” Kol ha-shirim, 91-92.

Ravikovitch’s persona is not only a lamenting poet chanting lyric lament over lack and loss where the power of human speech falters. She also laments love. She is a lovelorn poet.

I will digress from the direct concentration on the lovelorn persona to follow a tangent that arises through Ravikovitch’s careful choice of lexicon. The Hebrew wording for “Words were banished from my mouth” is rather distinctive. It makes use of a root-word used in only a handful of contexts in scriptures: ‘.t.q. The root-word carries a semantic range that encompasses: ‘moving’ or ‘disconnecting’ in the sense of ‘removing’ oneself and relocating’.19 The semantic range also encompasses ‘removed from’ or ‘taken away from’ as in Isaiah which bears an expression about individuals weaned of milk and taken away from the breast:

אֶת מִי יוֹרֶה דֵעָה וְאֶת מִי י ִ ָבין ְ שׁמוּעָה גְּמוּלֵי מֵחָלָב ע ִ ַתּיקֵי מִשָּׁדָיִם:20

To whom would God give instruction? And to whom would God give understanding of a message? To those newly weaned of mother’s milk?! To those removed from the breast?!21

The same root – ‘.t.q. – yields connotations of exaltations of haughty pride or insolent speech.22

19 See Genesis 12:8 and 26:22 as examples. 20 Isaiah 28:9. 21 Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Isaiah 28:9. 22 Psalms 94:3-4 is an example: עַד מָתַי רְשׁ ִ ָעים ה' עַד ָמתַי רְשׁ ִ ָעים יַעֲלֹזוּ: ִ יַבּיעוּ יְד ְ ַבּרוּ עָתָק ְ יִת ְ אַמּרוּ כָּל פֹּעֲלֵי אָוֶן: How long shall the wicked, O God, how long shall the wicked exult, shall they utter insolent speech, shall all evildoers vaunt themselves? Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Psalms 94:4.

We should consider the interplay of all of the above with the poem. The persona perceives love in the air through sights and scent, yet feels remote and removed from love. As a result speech eludes her. Words are disconnected or banished from her mouth. The poet is left bereft not only of love, but of her stock in trade: words, poetry. She is distant from the life-conferring ‘white milk’ of écriture féminine.23 She is distant from the mother who “fills your breast with an urge to come to language.”24 Eros, too, eludes her. Not even hubris flows from the poet’s lips.

We can read the source in Isaiah on an additional level with the assistance of commentary. Rashi25 imports an idea regarding the nature of those who are ‘weaned of mother’s milk’ and ‘disconnected from’26 the breast. He identifies them as people who feel they are ‘too big for’ the Torah and have ‘outgrown’ learning its precepts. This is a hint of Ravikovitch’s perception of herself as one who has removed herself from concerns of Torah-learning and Torah-guided living. We shall see stronger expressions of this contention in Chapter Five in a poem that alludes to outright apostasy.

To return to the central concentration of this chapter, the emphasis has been on the persona’s particular construction of self as holat ahava: she is lovelorn in several aspects. In short she almost never manages to experience love in emotionally satisfying proportions. On the rare occasion that she does, she laments the fleeting nature of love and the fact that it does not remain accessible in quality or in quantity for long. In Chapter Four it will be seen that love, for this individual, is an affliction worthy of lament.

The remainder of this chapter surveys general trends in the speaker’s construction of self and related theories of self-writing. Excerpts cited as illustration are chosen for their

23 Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 280. 24 Loc. cit. 25 Rashi - Rabbi Shelomo Yitzhaki, 1040 – 1105, France. 26 Alternately, the text can refer to those ‘too old for’ mother’s milk, also from the root ‘.t.q -- ‘atiq. The Even-Shohsan Concordance takes this approach to Isaiah 28:9: “’Atiqei,” Qonqordantzya hadasha le- torah nevi’im u-khetuvim, ed. Avraham Even-Shoshan (Jerusalem: Kiryat-Sefer, 1997) 934. Henceforth: Qonqordantzya hadasha.

link to the persona’s concerns with love. This pursuit begins with a return to the speaker’s reference to her deceased father.

2.4 Construction of Self in Retrospect: Persona with a Lacuna

The poem ‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela calls into existence the universe of the persona’s six-year-old self discovering the death of her father in a car accident.27 That road and that night expand into a nightmare world in print in which the speaker is continually compelled to revisit her deceased father, the scene and the loss.28 It is the dark galaxy in which she is eternally encapsulated through the inability to wrest even a single endearment from the lips of her parent. This detail is crucial to the persona’s construction of self. She is suffering from a lack of paternal love. This deficit leaves a void in the core of her being. This paternal love-famine spreads like a fissure concealed just below the surface of her skin and influences the shape of her future.

The absence of a living bond with her father beyond early childhood robbed the persona of a vital relationship. Among the theories that sociologists have advanced is that of differentiated gender construction. A relational model is posited for female selfhood: that is, sociological gender identity studies show that females tend to identify themselves in relationship to others, while males tend to identify themselves as separate from others, meaning in contradistinction to others.29 The voice of the persona in ‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela lets readers know that the absence of a relationship with her father is affecting her development. There is a gaping hole that will affect her forever. Even worse, she will be painfully reminded of that lacuna at regular intervals ad infinitum:

וּבְכָל לַיְלָה וָלֵיל הוּא עוֹמֵד ל ַ ְבדּוֹ בּ ְ ִמקוֹמוֹ וַאֲנִי חַיֶּבֶת לֵירֵד ל ְ ִמקוֹמוֹ וְלָבוֹא.

27 Ravikovitch, “[‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela,]” Kol ha-shirim, 24. 28 This phenomenon is reminiscent of what Freud observed as ‘repetition compulsion’ in his works on psychoanalysis. See: Sigmund Freud, “Beyond the Pleasure Principle,” The Pleasure Principle and Other Writings, trans. John Reddick (London: Penguin, 2003) 31-102. 29 Nancy Chodorow, The Reproduction of Mothering: Psychoanalysis and the Sociology of Gender (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979) 169. Henceforth: Chodorow, Reproduction of Mothering.

וְר ִ ָציתִי ִל ְ שׁאֹל אֶת ה ִ ָאישׁ עַד מָתַי חַיֶבֶת אֲנִי. וְיָדַעְתִי זֹאת ֵ מרֹאשׁ שֶׁתּ ִ ָמיד חַיֶּבֶת אֲנִי.30

Night after night he stands alone in his place And I must go down and stand in that place. And I wanted to ask him: Till when must I go. And I know as I asked: I must always go.31

The macabre nature and inevitable regularity of such a phenomenon is noted as not uncommon by Alfred Alvarez in his study of suicide. There he describes the stark homage that a poet, like Ravikovitch, used to pay, at predictable intervals, to her father’s premature death and the agony it caused her. Of Sylvia Plath, Alvarez writes:

God knows what wound the death of her father had inflicted on her in her childhood, but over the years this had been transformed into the conviction that to be an adult meant to be a survivor. So, for her, death was a debt to be met once every decade; in order to stay alive as a grown woman, a mother and a poet, she had to pay – in some partial, magical way – with her life. But because this impossible payment involved also the fantasy of join- ing or regaining her beloved dead father, it was a passionate act, instinct as much with love as with hatred and despair.32

Sadly, the persona of ‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela is conscious that she cannot get over the situation. She knows she is destined to keep treading the same path forever without gaining control over the situation and without regaining her father or his love.

The speaker’s clever mixture of verb tenses throughout the poem – historical present, contemporary present, past and future, as well as time markers – “at night”, “night after night”, “how long” and “always”, contribute to her construction of self and the universe that provides its context. The verb tenses function in retrospect, in the contemporary present of the poem, and in prospect. All three are accounted for with eerie clarity.

30 Ravikovitch, “[‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela,]” Kol ha-shirim, 24. 31 Ravikovitch, “On the road at night there stands the man,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 55-56. 32 Alfred Alvarez, The Savage God: A Study of Suicide (London, Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1971) 25.

The pair of “once upon a time” phrases that bracket the full text of the poem suggest retrospect. They lull the reader into a false sense of fairy tale. They transmit a cue to anticipate a transition, from restful sleep to pleasant dream or to refreshed awakening. The transition never arrives. The confession “And I know, even as I ask” invokes the speaker in the present moment of the poem. The phrase “Night after night” builds a picture of the speaker’s contemporary reality that stretches in both directions: past and future. “I will always have to” is a statement of self-prospect. That grim prospect of forever feeling a void where her father’s presence should be becomes ensconced in her being.

The fissures concealed below the surface of the persona’s skin cannot stay static for long before the jostling of everyday living jars them, sending their fault lines splintering in many directions. The persona is in such a delicate state that the phenomenon causes her to shatter entirely in the sonnet Buba memukkenet [Clockwork Doll].33 The speaker in the poem reports that “they” – an impersonal group of practitioners – tried to put her back together again.34 She conveys their lack of care or success and reports changes in her being:

אוּלָם אָז כְּבָר הָיִיתִי בֻּבָּה ִ מסּוּג שֵׁנִי ְ כּמוֹ זְ מוֹרָה חֲבוּלָה שׁ ִ ֶהיא עוֹד ֲ אחוּזָה בּ ְ ִקנוֹקֶנֶת.35

So then I became an inferior sort of doll like a snapped twig yet suspended by a tendril.

Her reconstituted self, her post breakdown self, is not as sound as her prior self, and too little love is again apparent. Even when she goes to dance at the ball, well groomed and dressed in full regalia, her presence is not valued. “They” abandon her with the dogs and the cats, much like children abandon no longer loved toys in some dusty corner of

33 Ravikovitch, “Buba memukkenet,” Kol ha-shirim, 36. 34 Bloch and Kronfeld comment on Buba memukkenet as illustrative of Ravikovitch’s “feminism avant la lettre” and on the way the poem “literalizes the stereotype of ‘doll,’ which in both Hebrew and English slang of the 1950s refers to a pretty young woman, but grants her the sorry fate of Humpty Dumpty” who needs mending by ‘all the king’s horses and all the king’s men’: Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 26. 35 Ravikovitch, “Buba memukkenet,” Kol ha-shirim, 36.

the garage or attic. The reader can almost hear the plaintive tone of the litany of this forever-six-year-old: “they” abandon her despite her clockwork-perfect dance steps, despite her lovely blonde doll hair, despite her beautiful blue doll eyes, despite her gorgeous dress with its flowers and fashionable cherry-trimmed hat. As well turned out as she is, she is not the same. Now “decorous and obedient”36 she is not even the same as her previously flawed, yet autonomous self, and her company is not sought. She certainly feels nowhere near the realized self of which Olney speaks in Metaphors of Self:

The archetype of wholeness […] remains always the same as an instinctual creative base and background of human life as we know it. […] It would seem that, in realizing the self - which is the moral demand that the given life makes of us – one is perfecting humanity and completing creation in the only way that one can do it: in one’s own self.37

In considering the construction of self Olney articulates that the autobiographer, the poet, the painter and the philosopher, among others, organize their worlds through their work in such a way as to find the serenity and sanctuary that might otherwise be lacking in life:

Each makes this cosmos and its construction the pivot of his emotional life, in order to find in this way the peace and security which he cannot find in the narrow whirlpool of personal experience.38

This is not consistently so in the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch. In her poems the persona frequently evokes the chaos that runs rampant in her cosmos. A stark example of this awareness may be perceived in Ha-beged.39

36 Arieh Sachs, “Clockwork Doll,” The Modern Hebrew Poem Itself: a new and updated edition, eds. Ariel Hirschfeld and Ezra Spicehandler (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2003), 193. 37 Olney, Metaphors of Self, 327-328. 38 Olney, Metaphors of Self, 8. 39 Ravikovitch, “Ha-beged,” Kol ha-shirim, 122-123.

In this poem, the speaker is engaged in a bizarre conversation with a second party who admonishes her not to wear a particular article of clothing. The warning voice cautions that the garment is akin to the poison dress issued by Medea40 of Greek mythological notoriety as recounted in the writing of Euripides.41 The speaker indicates that she is aware of the danger but does not know how to be careful. In a final exchange the warning voice persists, saying directly that the dress is on fire. The speaker’s reply is stunningly blunt:

מָה ְאַתּ אוֹמֶרֶת, צָעַקְתִּי, מָה ְאַתּ אוֹמֶרֶת? ֵ אין עָלַי בֶּגֶד בִּכְלָל, הֲרֵי זֹאת אֲנִי ַ הבּוֹעֶרֶת.42

What are you saying, I shouted, what are you saying? I’m not wearing a dress at all, what’s burning is I.43

There is no dress: the persona’s soul is enwrapped in her burning body. She knows that her emotional chaos has seeped through the pores of her skin, permeated every underlying crevasse and affected her very nucleus. That knowledge frequently expresses itself through images of ember and coal, spark and flame in her poetry. Chapter Five shows an analysis of a poem in which the persona divulges her errant soul and these moderate units of fire reach proportions of raging conflagration.

40 Princess-sorceress Medea of the Greek Tragedy Medea, as told by Euripides, married Jason after falling in love with him and helping him and the Argonauts obtain the coveted golden fleece. Subsequently Jason found himself a new princess, Glauce - a younger model, as it were. Medea’s gift of revenge to this woman was a poison dress. When donned the dress produced flames that burned Glauce to death as well as a would-be rescuer, her father King Kreon. 41 Euripides’ Medea in Denys L. Page, ed. “The Poisoned robe,” Euripides – Medea (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967) xxvi. 42 Ravikovitch, “Ha-beged,” Kol ha-shirim, 122-123. 43 Translation based on: Ravikovitch, “A Dress of Fire,” transl. Chana Bloch, A Dress of Fire, (Berkeley: The Menard Press, 1976) 5-8. Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch, maintain that title in a subsequent anthology of translations in: Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Bloch, The Window: 57-58. Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld come closer to a literal rendering of ‘The Garment’ with a revised title, “The Dress” in: Ravikovitch, “The Dress,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 115-116.

One of the hallmarks frequently associated with women’s life-writing is made manifest in the dialogue format of Ha-beged. It has been suggested that the presence of dialogue in women’s self-writing indicates goals that are “related to the aims of ordinary conversation.”44 On one level we may understand the conversation in this poem as taking place between the speaker and another person. On another level, we may understand it as a conversation between the speaker and her conscience. The latter framework involves the technique of alterity as the speaker casts her conscience at a remove from herself.

This conversation, give or take the reference to Greek mythology, is precisely the kind of tête-à-tête two close friends might have about personal circumstances such as love life and love strife. The dialogue contains recourse to shared understandings, the very acknowledgement or deflection of which contributes to the shape of the self being constructed. More often than not the conversation exhibits stream of consciousness digressions well tolerated between friends or typical of a conversation with oneself.

Marjanne E. Goozé comments on this conversational phenomenon in her survey of the literature about women’s self-writing:

Viewed as constructions of the self through conversation, women’s narratives become inseparable from their relationships to others. This constituent factor of women’s selves existing in interrelationship with others becomes more fully integrated into definitions of women’s selves and consciousness […]45

Marjanne Goozé’s comments could as easily apply to a conversation with one’s own conscience as to one with an interlocutor. In the case of Ha-beged, in addition to the relationship with a second party or conscience, the reader can posit a relationship of the speaker with someone outside of the poem’s immediate dialogue. There is a sense that

44 Eloise Bell, “Telling One’s Story: Women’s Journals Then and Now,” eds. Lenore Hoffman and Margo Culley, Personal Narratives: Essays in Criticism and Pedagogy. (New York: Modern Language Association, 1985) 167-176. Henceforth: Eloise Bell, “Telling One’s Story.” 45 Marjanne E. Goozé, “The Definitions of Self and Forms in Feminist Autobiography Theory,” Women’s Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal, 21:4 (1992): 416.

a love relationship is wielding signs of impending danger. Despite its warning signals the speaker inevitably finds herself in the wardrobe of Glauce. The pattern is in place. The works are in motion. She is on fire even before reaching for the metaphorical Medea’s dress.

To focus further on a relational mode of selfhood, an additional reason surfaces to mark the speaker’s situation as fatal even before she clothes herself in the burning dress. The reason has to do with the father-daughter relationship. It is a reason we may infer through consideration of the literary connections raised between Ha-beged and the writing of Euripides, as I shall now briefly outline.

In returning to the links between the poem and Greek mythology the reader understands that Euripides’s Medea cannot retreat to the comfort of her father’s home, as she had gone off with Jason without securing her father’s blessing. Her marriage to Jason has come to an end. Jason has since married Glauce. Medea is stranded without recourse to paternal love. The same is true of Glauce. Glauce, too, is doomed and not susceptible to the rescue of a loving father: the flames of the poisoned bridal dress, sent to her by Medea, are destined to thwart the rescue attempt of her father, Kreon, and kill him in the process.

The persona is akin to Medea. The persona is akin to Glauce. She converses with herself in both their voices. It is thus doubly clear that the persona is suffering the lack of an essential personal relationship: a loving father-daughter relationship. This formative fact of life has tremendous bearing on her development as well as on her choice of interpersonal involvements and love relationships. This persona of the oeuvre knows she is metonymically fated to smolder: she has no father, ergo no relational resource for rescue from any kind of flames, especially not flames of love.

Michal Ben-Naftali enriches the analysis of this poem with the contention that beyond the relationship-issues with her father, the persona has a flawed relationship with her mother. Michal Ben-Naftali makes a strong case to show that the interlocutor in the

poem may be perceived of as the persona’s mother.46 Considering that the poet- persona’s only significant attention to her mother in the oeuvre is delivered as the older woman lies malingering, her appearance in Ha-beged would indeed constitute a rare début in the speaker’s work.47 Ben-Naftali emphasizes the communication gap between the two women, the emotional baggage they bring to bear in the relationship and the cross purposes of their comments. All of these underscore the extent to which the daughter-figure feels, and felt, unprotected by her mother in the poem’s present and in the past.

Particularly telling is the persona’s recollection of becoming dreadfully ill following an un-parentally impeded, unremarked sortie from her home as a six-year-old with freshly- washed, wet hair. The danger signal is symbolized in the poem by a certain choking fragrance associated by the daughter-figure with the shampoo; the mother-figure in Ha- beged picks up on the odd fragrance as the poison of the garment in question. Despite her mother’s copious, if somewhat hollow-sounding warnings, the persona continues to feel unprotected and unnurtured: she has not learned “how to be careful.” It is apparent, then, that the persona has not managed to derive from either parent any relational resources to apply to survival in the face of flames of love.

Psychological studies such as The Reproduction of Mothering by Nancy Chodorow, mentioned above, take into account the ramifications of mothers’ parenting for their children’s personality formation and elements of gender identification. These in turn bear influence on the development of relationships of affection and love. Clearly a fathers’ parenting, or its lack or loss, also has ramifications for children’s personality development and ability to function in relationships of affection and love as life progresses.

46 Ben-Naftali, “Keri‘a,” 65-83. 47 The persona’s mother figure is rarely present in the oeuvre, but is the subject of a poem in which she is portrayed as awaiting the end of her life: Dahlia Ravikovitch, “Ba-shana ha-ba’a, ba-yamim ha- ba’im,’ Hatzi sha‘a lifnei ha-monsoon, Woodcuts, Pamela Levy (Raanana: Even Hoshen, 1998) 37-39. Henceforth: Monsoon.

In the excerpts of poems mentioned so far the speaker is working on identifying and constructing her self through her writing, for the most part with reference to retrospect. The excerpts to be surveyed next are drawn from poems which may be construed as verbal correlatives of visual self-portraits in which artists present brushstrokes of their current selves: they convey visual icons of selected attitudes and postures of self in the moment.

2.5 Performance of Self in the Moment: Persona as Poet

In the following verbal icons, the persona reveals her contemporary identity as a poet. Like all individuals she is multidimensional and multifaceted. There are occasions when she projects a well-defined sense of self along with indications that she enjoys exerting her strengths. There are also occasions when she comes across as uncomfortable with her being: at such moments she prefers to distance herself from her ‘self’ and its malaise by indulging herself in, and compensating herself for, emotional ailments. An excerpt of the poem Zikkaron tamim [A Pure Memory; A Perfect Memory] will be examined to illustrate her tendency toward competence and strength.48 An excerpt of the poem Portret [Portrait] will be examined to illustrate her response to personal malaise.49 In each of these poems the poet-persona performs bios as event, through consciousness itself.50

In Zikkaron tamim readers get a glimpse of the persona yearning for perfect recollection of a pure memory: the kind of consciousness that serves as both inspiration for writing and the substance of that writing, both as catalyst for process and sum total of net product.

48 Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim, 161. Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch translate the title as “Pure Memory” in The Window, 52. 49 Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137. Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch call this poem “Vanilla” in The Window, 48-49. Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld choose “Portrait” in Hovering, 124-125. 50 Olney, Memory/Bios, 242.

כַּמָּה י ִ ָמים כַּמָּה שָׁנִים, סוּפוֹת וּרְע ִ ָמים ח ִ ִכּינוּ לָזֶה שׁ ְ ֶיִּפרֹץ ֵ מעֹמֶק הָאֲדָמָה, ָ זִכּרוֹן אֶחָד תּ ִ ָמים כְּפֶרַח שׁוֹשָׁן אָדֹם בּ ִ ָהיר.51

How many days, How many years, storms and thunderbolts have we waited for a single pure memory to burst forth from the depths of the earth, like a lily bright red.

That rare heightened perception of the natural world, so important to her writing process, is as concentrated and breathtaking as the visual image of the bright red flower that she evokes in her rhetorical summons to “conscious consciousness”.52

Thematically similar is the aching need in the poem Portret. The self pictured is in a profound state of craving. Just as the poet self of Zikkaron tamim yearns for pure memory in the most conscious of ways, so the needy emotional self of Portret hungers desperately for concentrated flavour:

ִ היא רוֹצָה וָנִיל, הַרְבֵּה וָנִיל, תֵּן לָהּ וָנִיל.53

She wants vanilla, lots of vanilla, Give her vanilla.

The substances of the persona’s cravings and yearnings are directly bound up in her need for language, creative vitality and eros to fuel her writing process. This

51 Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim, 161. 52 Olney, Memory/Bios, 252, note 3. There, James Olney borrows the term “la conscience consciente” from a letter written by the poet Paul Valéry about his own poem, ”La Jeune Parque”. 53 Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.

phenomenon will be analyzed further in Chapter Four in which the corresponding verbal self-portrait is examined in greater detail.

In repeatedly calling out for vanilla this persona is performing the needy aspect of her self. She has a need to fill her ever-present internal void. In fact all of this self’s complex emotional needs find expression as physical needs and idiosyncrasies, contrasts and cravings. She’s colder than most people in the winter and does not fare well in the summer heat either. She barricades herself in the house for days at a stretch doing nothing but peruse the news. She consistently wraps herself up to the point of near- suffocation. She simply cannot find a way to comfort herself or make herself comfortable. The only solution she sees for immediate self-placation is vanilla in great quantity. Unfortunately this symbolic substance would serve as a temporary measure only. Even oceans of vanilla could not fill the vacuum that affects this self: the lacuna of paternal love.

What does offer the speaker respite from her emotional chafing is poetry itself, her own and that of others. When she settles herself sufficiently so that she commences the process of composing her own poetry, her feeling of transcendence is practically palpable. In this regard, ’Atta bevadai zokher [Surely You Remember] may be viewed as a companion piece to Zikkaron tamim in terms of summoning conscious consciousness to express bios:

אַחֲרֵי שֶׁכֻּלָּם הוֹל ִ ְכים אֲנִי נִשְׁאֶרֶת לְבַד עִם ה ִ ַשּׁ ִ ירים, חֶלְקָם ִ שׁ ִ ירים שֶׁלִּי וְחֶלְקָם שֶׁל אֲח ִ ֵרים. ִ שׁ ִ ירים שֶׁכּ ְ ָתבוּ אֲח ִ ֵרים אֲנִי אוֹהֶבֶת יוֹתֵר. אֲנִי נִשְׁאֶרֶת בְּשֶׁקֶט וּמֲַחנַק הַגָּרוֹן מִשְׁתַּחְרֵר. אֲנִי נִשְׁאֶרֶת. [...] ל ְ ִכתֹּב ִ שׁ ִ ירים זֶה אוּלַי דָּבָר נ ִ ָעים. [...]

אוּלַי תּ ְ ַחשֹׁב עַל שְׁנֵי דְב ִ ָרים אוֹ יוֹתֵר. אַחַר כּ ְָך ַ הכֹּל יַעֲבֹר וְתִהְיֶה ג ִ ָבישׁ ָ טהוֹר.54

After everyone leaves, I remain alone with the poems, Some mine, some others’. I prefer theirs. I remain quietly, my throat-choking eases. I remain. […] Writing poetry is rather nice. […] Perhaps you’ll conjure up a thing or two. Then all passes and you become pure crystal.

The poem ’Atta bevadai zokher surpasses Zikkaron tamim by a hair’s breadth in terms of communicating ‘conscious consciousness’. It constitutes an expression of bios as autobiographical writing. It generates its own transcendent reality without reference to the historical past or chronological future of the self. It resembles the raw state of singular awareness in self-writing that Olney describes as follows: “In the pure act of consciousness […] there is no before and after […] there is only consciousness itself, bright, shining, ticking, sufficient unto itself, conscious of nothing in particular and with no necessary content – conscious, perhaps, only of being conscious.”55

The self conveyed in ’Atta bevadai zokher is at its optimum at the point when and where she is emotionally comfortable enough, and vividly inspired enough, to write poetry. It is at this very point that she connects with pure consciousness. Then and there she ‘becomes’ gavish tahor – pure crystal. She becomes the medium through which pure memory or pure consciousness can pass, or be refracted, en route to becoming poems on paper. This poem is the paradigmatic literary praxis of a poet accomplished in self- writing. Olney identifies details of such praxis as follows: “The practice of autobiography

54 Ravikovitch, “’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116. Bloch and Bloch translate this poem with the title “Surely You Remember” in The Window, 41-42. 55 Olney, Memory/Bios, 242.

is almost as various as its practitioners, and this truth is yet truer – it becomes nearly absolute - when the primary commitment of the practitioners in question is literary […]”56

The excerpts regarded in this second grouping of poems reveal that the self-writing style of the persona is at its most unique when she considers the essence of her self as poet-practitioner, which is also her most emotionally at-ease self. She exerts the ‘literary commitment’ to write her self through poems in which form and function overlap: she writes through the inspiration of sheer consciousness and produces sheer consciousness. In this way Zikkaron tamim, Portret and ’Atta bevadai zokher exhibit ‘an ontology’57 all their own.

An emphasis on poems as verbal self-portraits raises issues of referentiality with which the poet must deal, particularly when the speaker of the poems is also their subject. In such a case there are inevitable shifts that take place between beholder and beheld. Poetry actually has an advantage over prose in this regard. Referential shifts in continuous autobiographical narrative can serve to destabilize or cloud the text and the identification of the self being presented.58 By contrast readers have the option to regard individual poems as snapshots that make up a collage of the speaker’s multidimensional self. Even so, the persona must contend with ways of approaching the writing of self, particularly in light of the coincidence of the subject, object and speaker.

56 Olney, Memory/Bios, 236. 57 I borrow this term from the full title of Olney’s article: James Olney, “Some Versions of Memory / Some Versions of Bios: The Ontology of Autobiography,” Autobiography: Essays Theoretical and Critical, ed. James Olney (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), 236-267. 58 Referential shifts and additional techniques are deliberately used in some fictional autobiographical narratives to prove the point of destabilization. In The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields (Auckland, New York, Toronto and Victoria: Penguin Books, 1993) for example, Daisy Goodwill Flett shifts between first and third person narrative of her own life story. The fragmentation and decentering are compounded by chapters in which characters other than Daisy write about this already fictional persona who is nonetheless represented in reproduced black and white photographs that don’t quite accord with the text. In Blackout, Alan Brown’s English translation of Hubert Aquin’s Trou de Mémoire, (Toronto: Anansi, 1974) for example, Hubert Aquin inserts his own comments into the footnotes of his first-person ‘who- done-it’, as those of an omniscient scientific writer. This is another innovative technique that deliberately obscures and destabilizes the narrative.

This conundrum is addressed vigorously by Roland Barthes in deconstructing autobiography:

Do I not know that, in the field of the subject, there is no referent? The fact (whether biographical or textual) is abolished in the signifier, because it immediately coincides with it […] I myself am my own symbol, I am the story which happens to me […] the pronoun of the imaginary, “I,” is im-pertinent;59

Philippe Lejeune, however, treats the coincidence in referentiality differently. He allows for some distance between beholder and beheld in the construction of self, even when they are one and the same. He comments:

One could not write an autobiography without elaborating and communicating a point of view on the self. This point of view may include some gaps between the perspective of the narrator and that of the protagonist. 60

This position is in concert with that of Timothy Dow Adams who treats a similar relationship in considering photography in autobiography61, and allows for the “fictive impulse”62 to fill the beholder-beheld gap. It follows that the same ‘fictive impulse’ and inevitable gaps would apply in the relationship between the persona formulating the poetry and the persona visible in any given verbal self-portrait.

A reproduction of Norman Rockwell’s 1960 Triple Self-Portrait on the cover of Lejeune’s book, On Autobiography, shows the painter peering into a mirror while he paints himself on an adjacent canvas. The portrait reinforces Lejeune’s certainty that autobiographical writing “will carry in the final analysis the mark of the author.”63

59 Roland Barthes, Roland Barthes, transl. Richard Howard, (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1977) 56. Originally published in French: Roland Barthes par Roland Barthes (Éditions du Seuil, 1975). 60 Philippe Lejeune, On Autobiography, transl. Katherine Leary (Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press, 1989) 45. Henceforth: Lejeune, On Autobiography. 61 Adams, Light Writing and Life Writing, xiv-xv. 62 Adams, Light Writing and Life Writing, x. 63 Lejeune, On Autobiography, 45.

Correspondingly the mark of the poet-persona is evident in both groupings of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poems treated to this point, at the very least in the triad of pronouns frequently employed in self-writing in referring to the self performed: “I”64, “you”65 and “she”66. The reader will also note some “she”-”I” fluctuation, possibly as a function of focalization, possibly as a function of the presentation of a multi-dimensional self and a technique to distance an aspect of self. To these Ravikovitch’s speaker adds the occasional “we”. This is the case in “True Love Is Not All That It Seems” mentioned in identifying the persona as lovelorn.67 In this poem the poet includes herself in the pronoun “we” to ask and answer as follows:

Do we love our friends? We don’t really love our friends. And do we love our children? Sometimes we love our children, but mostly just a bit.68

At times pronoun “we” expresses a function of the relational mode; at others this is the epithet the poet uses to position herself when she experiences moments of a more integrated self.69 The use of all of these pronouns shows that Dahlia Ravikovitch’s speaker shares, with other writers, the inevitable autobiographical issues of referentiality: “tension between impossible unity and intolerable division.”70

To summarize to this point, in poems such as ‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela and Ha- beged, we find the speaker concentrating largely on retrospect in the process of construction of self. A specific lacuna where love should reside has been noted. In verbal self-portraits of the moment, such as Zikkaron tamim, Portret and ’Atta bevadai

64 Ravikovitch, “[‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela]”, Kol ha-shirim, 24; Buba memukkenet, 36; Ha-beged, 122- 123; “’Atta bevadai zokher,” 116-115 . 65 Ravikovitch Ha-beged, Kol ha-shirim, 122-123; ’”’Atta bevadai zokher,” 116-115 . 66 Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137. 67 See Section 2.3 Lovelorn Persona. 68 Ravikovitch, “Ha-’ahava ha-’amitit ’eina kefi she-hi nir’eit,” Kol ha-shirim, 242-243. 69 Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim, 161. 70 Lejeune, On Autobiography, 36.

zokher, readers perceive the persona performing verbal icons of her conscious essence. When resources to fuel her writing process are in short supply, the persona suffers existential malaise. She expresses its effects as physical symptoms, in conflicting and constricting sensations, and as desperation in the form of pronounced cravings. She is at her best in terms of her emotional self when that which she does, namely the writing of poetry, and that which she produces, namely the poems, coincide.

2.6 Construction of Self in Prospect: Deconstruction of Self and Self-destruction

As mentioned, Ravikovitch’s persona produces yet another kind of self-writing in poetry. This poetry is noteworthy in two ways. One is its projection of prospect. In these poems the persona ‘tries on’ future resolutions to issues in her life. A second is that these poems convey deconstructions of self that call for scenarios of self-destruction. In the context of the projection of a future of self, James Olney describes memory as:

‘an adaptive function with a self-adjusting, and self-defining’ plasticity about it, turning back to the past so as to position itself and us for what is to be dealt with in the future; it adapts continuously to changing circumstances, external and internal, to constitute the self as it is at any given instant. [… ] Memory reaches toward the future as toward the past, and balance demands a poised receptiveness in both directions.71

In the poems to be discussed the reader can discern attempts of memory as an ‘adaptive function’ to generate a future self in response to the self as it has been constructed. As noted the persona of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s autobiographical poems exhibits a tragic flaw in the construction of her young self; accordingly, balance may very well elude the extension of this self’s memory in reaching toward her future.

To illustrate this chapter returns to a look at Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur, a poem initially introduced in sketching the persona’s lovesickness. In picturing herself as a sunflower inclining toward the sun, it has been noted that the speaker demonstrates her awareness of the way in which she has played into the dynamics of an all-

71 James Olney, Memory and Narrative (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1998) 343.

encompassing love relationship. She feels it has engulfed her being and is leading her astray. In opening the poem with a counteractive declaration the speaker demonstrates her ability to look to the future. She vows:

אֲנִי אוֹהֶבֶת אוֹתוֹ עַכְשָׁו ּכָל כֹּחִי. עוֹד י ִ ָמים אֲח ִ ָדים וְאֶחְדַּל. 72

I love him now with all my might. A few more days and I’ll cease.

Anyone, however, who has sworn this deceptively simple oath, or anything like it, surely knows its complexities. The speaker couples her future-oriented resolution with a ‘prehearsal’ of what she would like to say to this other being – adoni, akin to the French title ‘monsieur’, and very close to the Hebrew word for God – in statements of remonstration that occur to her whenever sorrow gets the best of her:

אֲדוֹנִי, אַתָּה בְּכָל ָ העוֹלָם, בְּכָל ָ העוֹלָם, וְרַק לֹא פֹּה. וּמִלְּבַד זֶה, אֲדוֹנִי, חַיַּי נְתוּנִים בְּכַפּ ְָך.73

Sir, you are all over the world, everywhere but here. And besides that, sir, my life is in your hands.

Together with the rest of the poem these statements contribute to the poet’s attempt to generate a future self in response to the self as it is currently constructed. Fortified with awareness of her own role in this situation of too much love, the speaker knows how to remake herself and how to seal the poem. She does so in a way reminiscent of the spouse of biblical Lot upon fleeing the destruction of Sodom. As readers we know that she is destined for disaster even as she strides toward her future. The glance she casts

72 Ravikovitch, “Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur,” Kol ha-shirim, 178. 73 Loc. cit.

over her shoulder undermines her momentum toward a safe future. Ravikovitch writes in a resolute future-facing timbre belied by encoded content:

אֲבָל אֵלֶּה דְב ִ ָרים שֶׁיֵּשׁ לָהֶם ִ שׁעוּר וְאֵלֶּה דְב ִ ָרים שֶׁיֵּשׁ בָּהֶם ָ טעוּת. אֵלֶּה דְב ִ ָרים שׁ ָ ֶהיוּ ֵ מעוֹלָם.74

But these are matters that have limits and these are matters of error. These are matters that are bygones.

The closing of the poem paints an impressionist portrait of the persona moving toward a new self and a new state of being while attempting to take leave of her past. Unfortunately, the dual-directional receptiveness identified by Olney has its limits. Although the persona resolves to look forward to a new state of being, the future encoded in the poem does not necessarily promise survival. The poet plans to ‘try on’ a solution of prospect in order to counteract having loved too much, but it is a prospect that she associates with conduct of “error”. Biblical Hebrew and Aramaic equivalents of “error” supply the resonance of straying and idolatry.75 The future consequences that the speaker faces are bleak. Chapter Five pays further attention to the persona’s proclivity to ‘love too much’ in the context of an erring soul and attends to a related portrait of the poet’s future.

In a poem called Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora76 the speaker devises a future to address her mounting lovelorn condition. While rifling through the clothing that

74 Loc. cit. denotes error. Biblically speaking words derived from (טעה, טעי The Hebrew word ta‘ut (from the root 75 refer to wandering astray and may connote straying to follow (תעה, תעי) the homophone root t ‘ h, t’y the errant ways of idolatry. Genesis 21:14 pictures Hagar walking along and wandering in the wilderness after being banished from the home of Abraham and Sarah. Rashi, loc. cit., connects the verb va-teta‘ to a lapse in practice on the part of Hagar. The suggestion is that she returned to the idolatry learned in her youth in the home of her father. 76 Ravikovitch, “Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora,” [“Searching For But Not Finding My Black Blouse,”] Monsoon, 42-45.

has accumulated on her chair and looking for the blouse she once wore while winning over the heart of a past beloved, the speaker articulates a strategy to get over the flames of love and memory she has managed to fan:

לֹא אַהֲבָה אֲנִי מְבַקֶּשֶׁת רַק מַיִם ר ִ ַבּים מֵעַל ְ לרֹאשִׁי שׁ ַ ֶיְּכבּוּ אֶת ָ האַהֲבָה. כָּל ֵ מימֵי הַיָּם ה ִ ַתּיכוֹן וְהַָיּם ָ האָדֹם וְהַיָּם ה ָ ַשּׁחוֹר הֵם מַיִם שֶׁל שַׁלְוָה.77

It’s not love that I seek just mighty waters above my head that will extinguish the love. All the waters of the Mediterranean Sea, And the Red Sea and the Black Sea they are waters of tranquility.

The mighty waters that could not possibly have been sufficient to put out the lovefire portrayed in Song of Songs,78 are pressed into service in this case, to do exactly that. The speaker summons them now to assemble so that she might extinguish both her lovesickness and her life in the serenity she anticipates in their depths. Less elegantly put, the speaker is planning the prospect of resolution by drowning.

Whereas in Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora the flames of the speaker’s lovesickness are still at a stage susceptible to the plan she proposes, in a poem called Hitrosheshut79 they are too far gone. She must adjust the ratio of water to fire for her future. In Hitrosheshut, the speaker projects an increase the mighty waters of only three seas to endless waters in order to address the inferno of her lovesickness and ultimately her future.

77 Loc. cit. 78 Song of Songs 8:7. מַיִם ר ִ ַבּים לֹא ְ יוּכלוּ ל ַ ְכבּוֹת אֶת ָ האַהֲבָה ָ וּנְהרוֹת לֹא יִשׁ ְ ְט ָפוּה ... Mighty waters could not extinguish love nor rivers drown it … 79 Ravikovitch, “Hitrosheshut,” [“Impoverishment,”] Kol ha-shirim, 174.

In the poem Hitrosheshut as well, it is apparent that the persona is painfully aware that she is suffering from lovesickness and knows that she cannot escape the situation unscathed. In Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur the speaker attempts to shape her future self through a resolution to cease loving. In Hitrosheshut, though, the speaker conveys knowledge that she is beyond declarations of this nature. She knows that her situation is undeniably disastrous – her self is already ablaze. In the event of her imminent emotional immolation, she resolves to extinguish the conflagration on the open sea at the expense of her own life:

אֲנִי רוֹצָה לְבַקֵּשׁ שֶׁאִם אָמוּת אֶהְיֶה כָּאֳנִיָּה ְ טרוּפָה; מַיִם שׁ ֵ ֶאין לָהֶם סוֹף ַ יְכבּוּ אֶת הַשְּׂרֵפָה.80

Let me request that if I die I be like a shipwreck; endless waters will extinguish the blaze.

Of the poems considered so far this one loses the most, in impact and symbolism, in translation from the original. A full analysis will be carried out in Chapter Five prior to making further observations based on the poem in the context of self-writing. The point of this preliminary glance is that the persona in Hitrosheshut, as in Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur, resolves to shape her future through a projection of self in prospect.

In Hitrosheshut the persona’s plan is bleaker than making a naïve resolution to stop loving. She cannot. The speaker is conscious that she is burning alive because of love. If need be she would pledge all her assets to be rid of that love. This concept recalls Song of Songs 8:7 which reads:

80 Loc. cit.

[...] אִם יִתֵּן ִ אישׁ אֶת כָּל הוֹן ֵ בּיתוֹ ָ בּאַהֲבָה בּוֹז יָבוּזוּ לוֹ:

Were one to offer his entire fortune for love, He would be ridiculed to shame.81

In light of the persona’s pledge, which functions as an inverted allusion to the declaration in Song of Songs, both the title Hitrosheshut and the pride that accompanies the speaker’s initially strange declaration begin to make sense:

אִם לְה ְ ִתרוֹשֵׁשׁ אֲנִי רוֹצָה בְּגַאֲוָה.82

If I must be impoverished let it be with pride.

This inverse allusion to the rare-to-acquire, not-to-be-had-for-all-the-riches-in-the-world, capital “L”-Love of the Song of Songs, underscores the degree to which the speaker is suffering from giving too much love and the lengths to which she would go to divest herself of lovesickness.

To summarize this segment of the chapter, the speaker makes use of her poems as self-writing to project prospect in two ways. One is by ‘trying on’ future resolutions to the lovesickness that informs her being, as in Devarim she-yesh lahem shi’ur. A second is by deconstructing the self, through analyses that forecast self-destruction. The analyses are consistently versions of lovesickness. For the persona this means experience of love in the wrong proportions. The deconstructions consistently involve going up in flames, blazing with varying degrees of intensity. The scenarios of self-destruction anticipate dousing the flames which, in turn, calls for a drowning of the self as in Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora, and the self as shipwreck as in Hitrosheshut.

81 Based on the translation of Song of Songs, 8:6-7 in: JPS Hebrew-English Tanakh, (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1999). Henceforth: JPS TaNaKh. 82 Loc. cit.

2.7 Summary: Poetry as Self-writing

As we see the persona of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poems constructs her self in three broad groupings of verbal self-portraits. One set of self-portraits is painted with retrospective autobiographical references. They point to a trauma experienced in childhood that has robbed the person of a vital relationship: parent-child love. In turn this formative trauma has contributed to a flawed constitution of self. In this regard the speaker presents as persona with a cavernous emotional lacuna.

In her entity as poet the speaker produces self-portraits in which she performs her self in the moment. She does so by writing her bios through ‘conscious consciousness’ as in Zikkaron tamim, Portret and ’Atta bevadai zokher. Engagement in this particular process of writing generates its own transcendent reality for the persona. It requires no reference either backward or forward in time. It becomes apparent that the persona is most at ease when she has both the circumstances and personal resources she requires in order to write poetry in this manner.

When she cannot, for both are scarce, she finds herself in a desperate state of craving and subject to strong contrasts that affect her physical and existential comfort. To evade her malaise, the persona ‘tries on’ situations of prospect. In some of these scenarios the persona resolves to break radically with her past, as in Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur. In others she leans toward self-destruction, as in Hitrosheshut. Both responses are related to her suffering from the affliction of love. Chapter Five will examine a self- portrait of the persona in prospect as a penitent shipwrecked lover.

2.8 Conclusion: Lovelorn Persona

This initial survey of the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch as the self-writing of her speaker, illustrated with excerpts from the oeuvre, reveals that the persona’s Ariadne’s thread is

love. 83 Olney makes reference to Ariadne’s thread, in the context of autobiography, as the defining thread of memory that “rises to consciousness after the fact to present itself to him as recollections that he can then trace back […] to discover the shape that was all the time gradually and unconsciously forming itself.”84

Love is the filament that informs both the persona’s construction and deconstruction of self. In the right proportions love could lead her out of the nightmare-labyrinth in which she lives, having to repeatedly revisit the terrifying scene of her father’s death, as in ‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela. The perpetual emotional fallout of that tragedy is the fundamental precipitator of too little love, and a part of the persona remains the fragile six-year-old forever, as in Buba memukkenet.

Love in the wrong proportions – too much, too little, or of the wrong kind on either the giving or receiving end – has the potential to ignite the thread like a fuse that leads swiftly to explosives. Owing to a formative fissure and perpetual distress, the persona is already smoldering in Ha-beged; flames of failed relationships threaten combustion, as in Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora; love threatens to engulf her in insurmountable flames, as in Hitrosheshut. She craves the kind of crystal clear consciousness and pure memory that will inform her state of being and her poetry as surely as she craves to devour pure essence in an effort to fill an internal void, as in Zikkaron tamim, ’Atta bevadai zokher and Portret, respectively. Aware of the bearing of her past on her inalterably flawed self, the persona turns to the future. Through her poetry she tries on solutions of prospect: she resolves to stop loving, as in Devarim she- yesh lahem shi‘ur; and when living and loving become intolerable, she resolves to go up in flames and sail away in endless waters, as in Hitrosheshut.

83 In the context of Greek mythology Ariadne proffered a length of thread to Theseus in a plan to help him find his way out of the Labyrinth. Without this thread he would have been destroyed by the Minotaur. 84 Olney, Memory/Bios, 238-238.

Chapter Three Being the Apple: Forwarded Conventions of Biblical and Medieval Hebrew Literature in Modern Hebrew Poetry 3.1 The Love of a Golden Apple

The speaker of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poetry chooses and develops a motif with a long and illustrious career in world literature: the apple. Dahlia Ravikovitch deepens the apple’s calling on the strength of classical Jewish sources. The speaker paints a verbal portrait of herself as a golden apple, notably from the outset of her oeuvre. Dahlia Ravikovitch’s first collection, published in 1959, and its first poem are both called ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav.1 While several decades of translation have conveyed the book’s title as The Love of an Orange,2 the intertextual echoes of the motif overwhelmingly suggest that it refers to a golden apple. Accordingly this study will reframe the general ‘take’ on the tapuah zahav of Dahlia Ravikovitch.

To be fair, there is merit in the suggested translation of the title as The Love of an Orange. It might be anchored in the Italian fairytale by Giambattista Basile called For the Love of Three Oranges, alternately The Three Citrons, and the opera subsequently based on it by Sergei Prokofiev.3 On the one hand, the suggested translation of the title conveys the desire encoded in the fruit in question. On the other, such a translation

1 Dahlia Ravikovitch, “’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav,” ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav, (Tel Aviv: Mahbarot le-sifrut, 1959). 2 Translators Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch do not translate the poem itself; they translate the title of the collection in which this Hebrew poem appears as The Love of an Orange in the table of contents of The Window. In modern Hebrew, the acronym tapuz (tapuah + zahav) denotes an orange and has come to be replace the older term, tapuah zahav. In a literal reading of the poem Ahavat tapuah ha- zahav, it makes sense that an orange, whether tree or fruit, is planted near a citron. In biblical Hebrew, the term tapuhei zahav refers to ‘golden apples’. This study relates to the fully articulated term – tapuah zahav – as ‘golden apple’ in its figurative literary identity. This chapter traces the motif of tapuah zahav encoded as a golden apple, from biblical Hebrew and on through medieval and modern Hebrew poetry. 3 This year, with the first published English translation of the poem itself, Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld include an explanatory note relating that in Prokofiev’s opera “oranges are objects of desire.” The note appears in: Ravikovitch, “The Love of an Orange,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 49- 50.

does not engage the intertextual reverberations of the term ‘golden apple’ built into the layers of the Hebrew language which Ravikovitch, herself, uses to best advantage in poetry. I will present those reverberations and will consequently refer to the poem as The Love of a Golden Apple. Through this motif the persona proclaims in concentrated language that she is, in spirit, a golden apple; that is, she aspires to embody the assets attributed to golden apples through the ages.

In the titular poem, voiced in third person, the speaker regards la figure d’altérité – that ‘other’ who is herself, cast as a golden apple. She invents a parable of a golden apple ‘who’ is warned, by a retinue of peers, namely a citron tree and a like-minded arbour, against the treacherous path it [tapuah zahav – the golden apple] plans to pursue. They fear this reckless course of action will lead to perdition. Ultimately the golden apple sets out on its quest and traverses bodily limens en route.

אהבת תפוח הזהב ַ תּ ַפּוּח זָהָב אָהַב אֶת אוֹכְלֵהוּ, טֹבוּ מ ְ ַראָיו לְמַאֲכָלֵהוּ, שָׂם אֶל ִ לבּוֹ כִּי הוּא ָ ה ֵ רוֹאהוּ.

א ְ ֶתרוֹג בּוֹ יִרְהַב: חָכַמְתִּי מ ֶ ִמּנוּ, ִ אילָן הִתְעַצַּב: ָימֹת ֵ וְאינֶנוּ. פַּחַז נֶחְשַׁב, מִי ִ יְש ֶ יבנוּ?

א ְ ֶתרוֹג בּוֹ סִרְהֵב: ִ הבּוֹנָה הַפֶּתִי! ִ אילָן הִתְקַצֵּף: סָרָה ִ היא וָחֵטְא ִ היא, חֲזֹר בָּך ֵ היטֵב כִּי כֶסֶל שָׂנֵאתִי.

ַ תּ ַפּוּח זָהָב אָהַב אֶת אוֹכְלֵהוּ, אָהַב אֶת מ ֵ ַכּהוּ בְּכָל אֲב ָ ָריו.

ַ תּ ַפּוּח זָהָב אָהַב אֶת אוֹכְלֵהוּ, הָל ְַך ֶאל מ ֵ ַכּהוּ ָ בּרוֹת לְשִׁנָיו

ַ תּ ַפּוּח זָהָב נִבְלַע ְ בּאוֹכְלֵהוּ, בָּא ְ בּ ֵ עוֹרהוּ, אַף בִּבְשׂ ָ ָריו.4

To translate such a densely encoded and linguistically resonant poem is problematic to say the least. Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch deserve admiration for their initial decision to refrain.5 Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld deserve admiration for their recent resolve to translate the poem, and for producing a beautiful and poetic translation published this year.6 For the conceptual purposes of this thesis, I include a working-translation, below, that has been in progress for the past few years. In addition to the fact that any translation constitutes interpretation, it must be pointed out that the following attempt is intended more for the purpose of allowing readers to work with the poem’s constructs than as a beautiful flow of language. In terms of built-in language constraints it should be pointed out that both of the central images of the poem, tapuah zahav and okhlehu, are masculine nouns in Hebrew. Out of respect for these figures as potentially live lovers, I refrain from referring to each as “it”. For clarity, this study will refer to the motif of the golden apple as a feminine figure d’altérité corresponding to the gender of the speaker. In this way we shall recognize ‘her’ [the golden apple] as a living entity rather

4 Ravikovitch, ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav,” Kol ha-shirim, 15-16. 5 See n. 2. 6 See n. 3.

than an object, and formulate a means to distinguish her entity from that of the entity whose erotic allure she feels.

By the same token, the golden apple’s beloved is not named in the poem, nor identified by species of tree or fruit. The beloved is given the epithet okhlehu referring to a desire to draw the golden apple in orally. To refrain from referring impersonally to this figure as “it”, and keep Hebrew’s same-sex-pronoun possibility open, yet to distinguish English references to this figure from references to the seeking-figure of the golden apple as “she”, this study will hold to a more formal poetic means of reference. It calls this sought-after entity ‘the beloved’. The use of ‘the beloved’ hails from the courtly love poems of Golden Age Spain and is in keeping with the distance created by the lack of specificity in identification in the poem.7 The use of the term ‘beloved’ also enables us to

7 This study calls on the precedents set in discussion of the Hebrew courtly love poetry of Golden Age Spain. Such discussion calls for the differentiation between the lover, whose point of view comes through in any given love poem, and the beloved, referring to the usually more remote, generally untouchable, individual whom the lover desires and seeks. By and large, although not exclusively, in the medieval Hebrew poems of courtly love, the lover or speaker is portrayed as male – hosheq (masculine singular), and the desired beloved sometimes hashuqa (feminine singular) and sometimes as hashuq (masculine singular). An example of the former arrangement may be seen in a set of courtly love poems by Samuel Hanagid, grouped as ’El ha-tzeviya –To the Gazelle (HPSP, Vol. 1, 151-153). This gazelle is female. A male lover pursues his beloved, addressed in feminine singular: אָשׁוּט כְּהֵל ְֶך עֲלֵי גִבְעַת ְוְאַד - / ִ בּיק אֶת לְחָיַי אֱלֵי מִדְר ְַך ה ִ ֲליכָיְכִי, [...] אוּלָם כְּבָר שָׁע ִ ֲרוּא ִישׁים אֲשֶׁר ֵ אין ְ בּ ְתוֹך/ אֶרֶץ ֱ א ִ לֹהים יְפֵיפִיָּה ְ כמוֹתָיְכִי. לָמָּה ְ בּ ְפוּך תִּקְרְעִי עַיִן ְ שׁחוֹרָה וְעַל/ מַה תִּצְבְּעִי בֶאֱגוֹז אֹדֶם שְׂפָתָיְכִי? I shall venture, a wanderer to a hill of frankincense and press my cheeks to sites you have trodden, […] For men have already surmised in the Land of the Lord, there is no beauty besides you. Why use kohl to outline your eyes and nutshell to redden your lips? An example of the latter arrangement may be seen in another set of courtly love poems by Judah Halevy, grouped as ’El ha-tzevi –To the Gazelle (HPSP, Vol. 2, 440-443). This gazelle is a male. A male lover pursues his beloved, talking to him and, here, about him in masculine singular: פְּנֵי אָדֹם וְצַח/ לְבָבִי ל ְ ִבּבוּ. חֲמָסִי ַעל צְבִי נְתָנַנִי שְׁבִי, [...] וְלֹא נֶעְתַּר ְ לאָח/ קְר ָ ָביו נִצ ְ ְרבוּ.

sidestep the constraints of English. English, albeit to a lesser degree than Hebrew, exhibits built-in near-compulsion to express gender, particularly through third person pronouns.

Further to the consideration of gender and reference, this study proposes to contribute to the analyses of the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch by suggesting a fluid ‘possibilities span’ regarding the identity of the beloved in accordance with the concept that the sealing and unsealing of poems is a prominent feature of postmodern poetics. As Derrida states in observing language’s capacity for infinite possibility, “The possibility of a secret always remains open, and this reserve is inexhaustible.”8 His statement is made in examining the poetry of Paul Célan, “who never ceased encrypting (sealing, unsealing).”9 The same may be said of Dahlia Ravikovitch whose poetry is insistently occupied with techniques that seal and unseal, fasten and unfasten. An archetypal demonstration of one of her ‘poetics of undermine’ is demonstrated in Chapter Six.

Here, then, is a working-translation of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s titular poem that serves several purposes. It conveys the golden apple as a feminine figure of alterity corresponding to the gender of the persona. It suggests an open ‘possibilities span’ regarding the gender and identity of her beloved in keeping with the poet’s proclivity to provide for the sealing and unsealing of meaning. Finally, while regrettably less eloquent and linguistically not as rich in reverberation as the original Hebrew, as well as consciously less poetic than the newly published translation mentioned, this working-

His visage clear and ruddy enchanted my heart. My wrath upon a gazelle Who captivated me, […] And was not entreated by a brother whose insides were seared. In setting up the dynamics of her poem of lover and beloved, Dahlia Ravikovitch uses two Hebrew masculine singular referents. The English terms, lover and beloved, will be used to maintain openness to possible combinations of lovers and beloveds, and facilitate ease of recognition in references to the two entities. As mentioned, the lover in Ravikovitch’s poem will be referred to by pronoun as “she” in accordance with the female figure d’altérité of the poem’s persona. 8 Jacques Derrida, “Poetics and Politics of Witnessing,” 67. 9 Loc. cit.

translation in progress offers readers the opportunity to gain access to the central concepts encoded therein.10

The Love of a Golden Apple

A golden apple Loved her devourer, With comely looks As her beloved’s repast, Who took it to heart As the beholder.

A citron did boast: I’m more clever than she, An arbour was upset: She’ll perish, no longer be. Considered unstable, To revive her, who is able?

A citron beseeched her: See here, you fool! An arbour did rage: A crime, a transgression! Repent fully For folly I despise, with passion.

A golden apple Loved her devourer, Loved the one who smote her11 Body and soul.12

A golden apple Loved her devourer, Did go to her smiter13 Fine fare for the palette.

10 Regrettably, some of the central concepts are not perceptible in the poetic translation recently published by Bloch and Kronfeld. For example, the hapax legomenon, pahaz – “unstable” or “reckless” to be discussed in terms of the biblical reverberations it brings to the second stanza of the poem, is not accessible in the new translation, and therefore lost as a concept for readers of English only. 11 She loved the one who smote her [with love]. 12 A more literal sense of the Hebrew is “with every limb.” The poet makes reference to sensations of her limbs in additional poems concerning eros. See page 23 of this chapter. See also Chapter 4 Segment 3.6 (ii): “Descent into Eros and Intoxication of Senses.” 13 See n. 11.

A golden apple Enveloped14 by her devourer Entered her beloved, Even suffusing the flesh.

Attracted through love and appearance to the one who seeks to internalize her, the golden apple throws the cautions of her peers to the wind and takes an active role in her own envelopment. Apparently the golden apple has planned, from the start, to traverse the boundaries of her beloved’s body in order to experience the delight of total bodily embrace. Apparently she aspires to infuse her lover with her being and all that she has to share, from the inside.

The persona’s desire for total fusion with her beloved is not limited to this poem. A similar desire surfaces in additional verbal portraits, such as Hishtadlut nosefet [Another Attempt].15 There, in perseverating over love, she uses the following phrases to convey the extent to which she craves union with her beloved:

ִ אלּוּ יָכֹלְתִּי לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך כֻּל ְָך ֵ א ְיך אֶפְשָׁר לִי לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך כֻּל ְָך, […] לוּ אֶפ ְָשׁר לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך לְכָל הַשָּׁנִים ֵ א ְיך אֶפְשָׁר לְה ִ ַשּׂיג ְאוֹתך מִכָּל הַשָּׁנִים, […] לוּ אֶפְשָׁר לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך כֻּל ְָך - שֶׁבְּכֻלּ ְָך […] לוּ אֶפְשָׁר לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך כֻּלּ ְָך - שֶׁבְּעַכְשָׁו ֵ א ְיך אֶפְשָׁר שֶׁתִּהְיֶה לִי ְ כּמוֹ ֲאנִי עַצְמִי.16

If I could have all of you how could I possibly get all of you […]

14 The Hebrew term nivla‘ is passive, and means “was swallowed”. This poem contemplates a golden apple who has initiated and navigated passage into the body of her beloved. She has chosen to bring about envelopment by volition, so to speak, calling for an active verb. The verb “penetrated” comes close, and is a hair’s breadth away from nivla‘ through recourse to metathesis: niv‘al; nevertheless, the open ‘possibilities span’ of meaning of this poem calls for a transitive verb for her decisive ‘body to body journey’, hence the possible choice of “entered” should be considered in translation. 15 Ravikovitch, “Hishtadlut nosefet,” Kol ha-shirim, 83-84. 16 Loc. cit.

If I could have you forever How could I possibly get you from eternity, […] If I could have all of you all-in-all […] If I could have all of you in the here-and-now How could you become mine like me myself.

The speaker conveys her cognitive understanding of the impossibility of the situation. That does not, however, affect the depth of her affective yearning for overlap with her beloved to the nth degree. She knows in the depths of her being that she needs to exert herself bodily, and exert herself entirely, in order to attain the degree of union she desires. Hélène Cixous describes this process of bodily exertion as ‘wearing out shoes’; she likens the poetry-writing process to this productive exertion that involves physical voyage:

Poetry is about traveling on foot and all its substitutes, all forms of transportation. […] In dreams and in writing our body is alive: we either use the whole of it or, depending on the dream, a part. We must embark on a body-to-body journey in order to discover the body.”17

’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav provides an example of a poem in which Ravikovitch’s speaker daringly arranges for total corporeal embrace by venturing on a full ‘body-to- body journey’.

ַ תּ ַפּוּח זָהָב נִבְלַע ְ בּאוֹכְלֵהוּ, בָּא ְ בּ ֵ עוֹרהוּ, אַף בִּבְשׂ ָ ָריו.18

17 Cixous, Ladder of Writing, 64-65. This book contains three lectures that Hélène Cixous delivered at the University of California, Irvine, in May 1990: The School of the Dead, The School of Dreams and The School of Roots. The analogy that Cixous points to in the expression ‘wearing out shoes’ stems from her memory of one of Grimm’s fairytales. In it, a king finds he must daily replace the worn out slippers of his daughters. It turns out that each night, the princesses secretly descend a ladder, exit the palace, and dance in the forest all night long. Cixous conveys this story as a metaphor for jouissance. Cixous connects the metaphor to poets and poetry. 18 Ravikovitch, “Hishtadlut nosefet,” Kol ha-shirim, 83-84.

A golden apple, Enveloped by her devourer Entered her beloved, Even suffusing the flesh.

This final stanza of ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav illustrates that the speaker manages to enter her beloved orally and completely. This is not a case of a passive individual who is swallowed up or eclipsed. This is not a matter of perdition. This is, rather, the case of an active persona who according to plan, envelops herself completely within her beloved’s skin and flesh.19 For her this is the consummate embrace, deep within the layers of her beloved’s body. From this ideal posture of love which she has initiated she can share her gifts and launch their proliferation beneath the skin and throughout the flesh of her beloved: ba be-orehu / ’af bi-vesarav. She infuses her beloved’s being with her gifts, through eros, from deep within: completely.

The persona’s longing for total synthesis with her beloved is not limited to ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav. Neither is the persona’s portrait of herself as a golden apple. A similar image is painted in a sonnet called Hemda with a slight modification in focus.20 In Hemda, as in ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav, the speaker effects a ‘body-to-body journey’. In this case, however, she draws attention to a single part of her body.

In Hemda one of the few poems in which the persona celebrates jouissance, it is her head rather than her entire being that she likens to a golden apple. The speaker personifies the profuse natural light and projects upon it an impetus to swallow her head. The light is portrayed as dynamic, flowing and shining ‘insatiably’. It illuminates the uppermost fringe of the shrubbery, streams down into the waves and catches fire in the ripples:

19 Chapters leading up to Leviticus 15 deal with skin afflictions. Leviticus 15 outlines basic laws of purity pertaining to bodily emissions from the flesh and skin of men and women. In circumstances of genital emissions, the term “flesh” – basar is understood to hold a sexual connotation. In this poem the plural term – besarav, together with the choice of verb – ba’, conveys a sexual context. 20 Ravikovitch, “Hemda,” [“Desire”; “Delight,”] Kol ha-shirim, 47. Incidentally, the term for sonnet in Hebrew is shir zahav – literally, a ‘golden poem’. As such it is a receptive habitat for a golden apple.

ה ִ ִזְהירוּ ָ ראשֵׁי ה ִ ַשּׂ ִ יחים ָ וְהאוֹר לֹא יָדַע ָ שׂ ַבֹע, נִתּ ְַך בְּגַלֵּי הַנָּהָר וּבְכָל ְ אַד ָ ווֹתיו נִצַּת, אַף רֹאשִׁי הָיָה בְּעֵינָיו כּ ַ ְת ַפּוּח זָהָב ְ לב ַלֹע...21

The hedgetops radiated insatiable light, It coursed into the river waves igniting all its ripples, regarding my head as a golden apple to swallow...

In ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav, her beloved seeks to draw the persona in orally. Similarly the light in Hemda exhibits the metaphoric urge to swallow the golden apple of the speaker’s head. Such desire is mirrored in the depiction of the natural world: yellow water lilies open their mouths to take in the gentle waves of river water:

שׁוֹשַׁנֵּי נָהָר צְהֻבּוֹת פָּעֲרוּ אֶת ִ פּיהֶן ל ְ ִב ַלֹע אֶת ְ אַדווֹת הַנָהָר …22

Yellow water lilies parted their lips to swallow the river ripples …

The speaker reports the incomparable delight of desire thus felt:

וְאוֹתוֹ ַ היוֹם הָיָה יוֹם הַשּׁ ְִביעִי בְּשַׁבָּת [...] וְאַז יָדַעְתִּי חֶמְדָּה ֶ שׁלֹא הָיְתָה ָ כּ ָמוֹה.23

And that very day was the Sabbath […] And then I knew unparalleled delight.

It makes sense that hemda, this rare erotic delight, is reportedly experienced on ha- shevi’i be-shabbat – the Sabbath, corresponding to the seventh day following the six of creation. That deliberate choice of timing amplifies and draws on the pleasure of sensations already bequeathed to that rarest of days: hemdat yamim – most desirable,

21 Ravikovitch, “Hemda,” Kol ha-shirim, 47. 22 Loc. cit. 23 Loc. cit.

most delightful of all days, as it is also designated in liturgy.24 Those sensations pool in collective conscience as ‘oneg shabbat connoting sabbatical delight.

At moments of heightened desire the speaker does not feel restricted by bodily barriers. In ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav the golden apple contemplates entering her beloved orally. In Kitmei ’or25 [Specks of Light] below, she simply materializes within the dusky core of the body of her beloved as silent specks of light, possessed of the fluidity of essential oil of myrrh. Her concentrated liquidity plays a part in her ability to permeate her beloved’s being from within and to effect total synthesis:

ַ וּבחֹמֶר הַזֶּה ָ האָפֵל נִט ָ ְבּעוּ כְּת ִ ָמים שֶׁל אוֹר וְלֹא נִשְׁמַע בָּהֶם קוֹל וְרַחַשׁ בָּם לֹא יַעֲבֹר וְהֵם ְ כּמוֹ שֶׁמֶן ַ המּוֹר נִגּ ִ ָרים וְזוֹל ִ ְפים מִן הַפּ ְָך. וְהֵם נִגּ ִ ָרים כִּבְשׂ ִ ָמים וְרַכָּה וּשְׁלֵוָה ְ תנוּעָתָם ַ וּבחֹמֶר הַזֶּה הָאָפֵל הֵם נִקְוִים ל ַ ְמ ַבּוּע קָטָן וְיֵשׁ בָּהֶם חֵן וְחֶמְדָּה ֶ שׁ ִ גּוֹאים וְעוֹב ִ ְרים עַל גְּ דוֹתָם.26

And embedded in this dark matter are specks of light nary a sound is heard in their midst, nor a rustle among them and they resemble oil of myrrh, trickling and flowing from the flask.

And they flow like perfume, their movement soft and tranquil and in this dark matter they pool in a wellspring in their midst yearning-desire welling up, overflowing their bounds.

The liquid sensation described pulsates silently as the jouissance carried in the word hemda. The sheer pleasure may be linked to both the process by which the persona

24 The wording “hemdat yamim” – ‘most desirable of days’ – derives from the repetition of the central prayer of the Sabbath day Musaf – the additional service. There, it is positioned as a remembrance of Creation: והשביעי רצית בו וקדשתו, חמדת ימים אותו קראת, זכר למעשה בראשית. for You favored the seventh day and declared it holy. You called it ‘most desirable of days’ in remembrance of Creation. See: “Yismehu,” Jonathan Sacks, ed. and transl., The Koren Siddur, (Jerusalem: Koren, 2009) 546- 547. 25 Ravikovitch, “Kitmei ’or,” Kol ha-shirim, 43. 26 Loc. cit.

becomes present inside her lover and to the fluid sensations of tranquil pooling of light, proliferation and overflow deep within her beloved. Similar fluidity facilitates the speaker’s suffusion from within in Tefillat ’ashkava le-’ahar sheva-‘esrei shana:27

ְאַך כְּשֶׁעָבְרָה הַנַּעֲרָה ה ְ ַטּבוּעָה אֶת כָּל חַדְרֵי הַיָּם, יָד ְ ַענוּ שֶׁהַיָּם הוּא ַ ה ִ מּוֹליד אֶת הַנְּחָלִים.28

Yet when the drowned lass passed through all the sea’s chambers, We knew that the sea was the bearer of streams.

The persona, whose figure of alterity is cast as a drowned young woman, passes fluidly through all of the chambers of the sea. Mordecai Shalev analyzes the persona’s active passage as fertilization of the sea. Correspondingly the sea is cast as the one whom the woman desires and as the ‘bearer’ or ‘birth-giver’ of the tributaries.29

With regard to ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav Shalev also notes Ravikovitch’s use of the terms ba […] bi-vesarav in their scriptural erotic connotations and that they similarly indicate the persona’s fertilization of her beloved from within. Ravikovitch thus employs intertextual resonance to its most effective advantage to “write her self and her ‘body’ in its abundance and multiplicity.”30

Apropos of the golden apple infusing her beloved with her being, the question arises as to what gifts she seeks to bestow in this manner. To this end readers must discern the apple’s encoded imagery. Juliette Hassine identifies the symbolism of the motif of the golden apple in several cultures, most particularly in Greek mythology. She elucidates that among the numerous labours with which Eurystheus charges Hercules is the enjoinment to steal the golden apples of the Garden of the Hesperides. These had been a wedding gift of Zeus to Hera. They are also known as Athena’s love apples. As such these golden apples are encoded with eros and its danger.

27 Ravikovitch, “Tefillat ’ashkava le-’ahar sheva-‘esrei shana,” [“Requiem After Seventeen Years,”] Kol ha- shirim, 77. 28 Loc. cit. 29 Shalev, “Dahlia Ravikovitch – meshoreret meqonenet.” 30 Calarco and Atterton, “Hélène Cixous,” 275. Writing of this nature exemplifies écriture féminine.

Hassine provides additional leads to the essence of golden apples as secret, precious wisdom along the lines of the philosophy and alchemy of gold that some cultures of the far-east, for example, would expect to gain in a successful quest for a philosopher’s stone.31 The implication is that the golden apple of Ravikovitch’s title poem permeates her beloved through eros with love, philosophic wisdom and the gold of alchemy.

Hassine further suggests that a specific Sabbath eve song, by kabbalist Rabbi Isaac Luria, might have steered the muse of Dahlia Ravikovitch toward her golden apple. With precious words the song ’Azamer bi-shevahin bestows crowns upon the shekhina – the feminine aspect of the divine, and accompanies her to a field of holy apples to unite with her groom. Hassine relates that the musical composition shares a number of motifs that overlap with those of ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav making it a likely source of inspiration for the poet and for the naissance of her golden apple.32 Hassine’s suggestion brings this study a step closer to its occupation with classical Jewish sources.

3.2 A Golden Apple Endowed with Precious Gifts

Through recourse to the intertexts of classical Jewish sources and layers of Hebrew literature Dahlia Ravikovitch ensures that the golden apple bears additional precious gifts. Previously, these endowments have not been fully noted in the scholarship concerning the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch. The influences and intertexts that the poet employs reach as far back as the Hebrew bible. For example, the golden apples portrayed in Proverbs 25:11 are encased in silver filigree, and compared to beautifully composed verbal expressions:

ַ תּפּוּחֵי זָהָב בְּמַשׂ ִ ְכּיּוֹת כָּסֶף דָּבָר דָּבֻר עַל אָפְנָיו:

Like golden apples in silver showpieces Is a phrase well turned.33

31 Hassine, Shira u-mitos, 48, 59. 32 Hassine, Shira u-mitos, 60-61. 33 JPS Tanakh, Proverbs 25:11.

With assurance that such notorious echoes resound in the collective conscience of readers versed in Hebrew bible and its adages, Ravikovitch confers the gift of glittering poetic language upon the golden apple. In addition to crafting polished poetic language in modern Hebrew, she dips into the strata of the language stemming from biblical, rabbinic and medieval Hebrew literature as well.

The following are two illustrations of Ravikovitch’s manifold uses of polished gems of Hebrew arising from previous layers of the language. One encompasses her use of hapax legomena, individual words which occur once in all of Hebrew Scriptures, in addition to rare biblical words and ‘miqra-isms’.34 This demonstration will be confined to a single, heavily laden hapax. A second is the poet’s careful selection of words which were first employed in the tannaitic Hebrew of rabbinic literature.

In ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav the unidentified arbour casts the golden apple as pahaz, a hapax legomenon connoting ‘unstable’ or ‘reckless’. The scriptural use of this particular adjective is singular and meant to sting the ear. Toward the conclusion of Genesis this word is ensconced in Jacob’s deathbed blessings of his offspring. It functions as rebuke in his address to Reuben:

פַּחַז כַּמַּיִם אַל תּוֹתַר...35

Unstable as water, you shall excel no longer…36

34 Mikulitzky, “Ha-tashtit ha-miqra’it. Meirav Mikulitzky identifies Ravikovitch’s use of biblical Hebrew forms such as: bound constructs; vav-consecutive verbs; hapax legomena and rare biblical words (beginning on p. 56); and ‘miqra-isms’ – modern Hebrew words and wordings that Ravikovitch has patterned after biblicisms. Mikulitzky asserts that Ravikovitch steeps certain poems densely in biblical Hebrew to veilthe persona’s meaning. She contends that this technique buffers what would otherwise be a direct revelation of powerful, boundless eroticism (74). 35 Genesis 49:4. 36 JPS Tanakh, Genesis 49:4. In blessing Reuben, Jacob refers to his son’s family status as firstborn and manifestation of his own virility. He also rebukes Reuben for his destabilization of the family through his contrived escapade with Bilha. Reuben’s rash usurpation of his father’s conjugal union with Bilha was an overt manoeuvre to undermine his father’s status as the male head of the household as well as to secure the claim to his birthright. Entries in the Brown-Driver-Briggs Lexicon convey that the Hebrew word pahaz denotes “be wanton, reckless”; the parallel word to pahaz in Arabic means ”be reckless”, and that the similar term pehaz in

In this poem the citron and the arbour alternately beseech and admonish the golden apple to exercise rational restraint. Eventually they grow cross with her plans for reckless behaviour, question her intelligence and wax insulting:

א ְ ֶתרוֹג בּוֹ יִרְהַב: חָכַמְתִּי מ ֶ ִמּנוּ, ִ אילָן הִתְעַצַּב: ָימֹת ֵ וְאינֶנוּ. פַּחַז נֶחְשַׁב, מִי ִ יְש ֶ יבנוּ?37

A citron did boast: I’m more clever than she, An arbour was upset: She’ll perish, no longer be. Considered unstable, To revive her, who is able?

The use of the hapax brings intertextual resonance to the poem in thematic sound bytes: tension, audacity, treacherous behaviour, potential downfall, crossing an illicit behavioural boundary, violating a taboo, traversing a precarious sexual border fraught with peril, boldness, not to mention resolute individuation, ironically for the purpose of coupling. Ravikovitch succeeds in this poetically telegraphic accomplishment with a single word of highly-polished biblical Hebrew.

In designating the citron tree as ’etrog38 and the unnamed arbour as ’ilan,39 words which do not appear in biblical Hebrew,40 Ravikovitch makes use of the tannaitic Hebrew of the

Syriac conveys “be lascivious”. F. Brown with the cooperation of S. Driver, and C. Briggs, The Brown- Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon: With a Lexicon containing the Biblical Aramaic (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2005. Reprinted from the 1906 originally published by Houghton, Mifflin and Co., Boston) 808. 37 Ravikovitch, ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav,” Kol ha-shirim, 15-16. 38 mSukka 3:5, 6, 7, 11; mBiqurim 2:6, for example. 39 mPe’a 3:5; mKil’ayim 1:7-8, 6:3-5; mShevi‘it 1:3,8, 4:6,10; mMa‘aser Sheini 3:7; m‘Orla 1:3-5, 11; m‘Eiruvin 4:7, 10, for example. 40 These words do appear in biblical Aramaic. Onkelos uses the plural Aramaic ’etrog in (Leviticus 23:40) to parallel biblical Hebrew’s use of peri ‘etz hadar (Loc. cit.). The biblical Aramaic in Daniel 4:8, 11, 17, 20 and 23 refers to ilana envisioned. Their use in Hebrew is linked to their recorded début in the tannaitic layer of Hebrew and onward.

mishnaic era, sometimes called early middle Hebrew. Forms of the rare verb sirhev, used for ‘urged’ or ‘beseeched’ in the third stanza, also have their first appearances in the literature of the rabbinic sages.41 They remain rare and identifiable as they not in common parlance in modern Hebrew oral discourse.

The examples of polished poetic language in the poem present just a tiny sampling of the calibre of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s grasp of the layers of Hebrew language and literature. In turn they present the depth with which her speaker intends to bequeath the gift for producing ‘golden apples in silver showpieces’.

To continue looking at the contemporary poetry’s influences and intertexts with roots in previous layers of Hebrew requires a look at additional biblical apples. Apples summoned by the female lover of the Song of Songs, while not explicitly golden, were considered to have naturopathic properties thought to revive individuals ailing because of love. Bemoaning her lovelorn state the maiden at the heart of one of the love poems in the Song of Songs calls out for their succour:

ס ְ ַמּכוּנִי בָּא ִ ֲשׁישׁוֹת רַפְּדוּנִי בּ ַ ַתּ ִ פּוּחים כִּי חוֹלַת אַהֲבָה אָנִי:42

Sustain me with sweet-delicacies, Bolster me with apples, For I am sick with love.

Ravikovitch thus beckons the naturopathic properties of the fruit to reduce her persona’s symptoms precipitated by too much or too little love. In her case, being bolstered with apples can only help to a degree; likewise, repose beneath the apple tree, at a time of awakening love, in the spring garden of the Song of Songs, is of limited effect.43 The persona needs to become the apple tree or the apple itself. She needs to function as the apple. From this poem forth, Ravikovitch’s persona is absorbed in being the apple. And so she is, being the apple: gathering the momentum and gifts of apples through the

41 bBerakhot 47a; bShabbat 10a; bBaba Qama 28a, 32b; bHulin 94a; and in aggadic literature such as Deuteronomy Rabba, Parashat Va-’ethanan, dibbur ha-mathil: rav lakh. 42 Song of Songs 2:5. 43 Song of Songs 8:5.

ages, particularly those of classical Hebrew texts. She forwards the conventions of Hebrew literature through her modern Hebrew poetry.

In addition to the biblical apples she gathers Ravikovitch’s persona also reaches for the apples of the Hebrew poetry of Golden Age Spain. In love poems they are lauded for their scent, colour and shape, and touted for taste and texture. They serve as points of comparison for the cheeks and chests of lovers from afar who imagine embrace. To illustrate, below are pertinent excerpts of medieval Hebrew love poems by Moses Ibn Ezra (ca 1055 - ca 1135-1140) and Solomon Ibn Gabirol (1021 - ca 1058), two of the Golden Age poets of Spain. The poems are dubbed “Apple” or “The Apple” by Schirmann in anthologizing the work of the poets’ diwans.

[תפוח]

ַ וְת ַפּוּח, אֱמֶת, אֵל לֹא ב ָ ְראוֹ/ לְבַד עֹנֶג לְמ ִ ֵר ַיח וְנוֹשֵׁק: חֲשַׁב ִ ְתּיהוּ— ְ בּשׁוּר יָרֹק וְאָדֹם/ ְ ק ִ בוּצים בּוֹ—פְּנֵי ָ חשׁוּק וְחוֹשֵׁק.44

[Apple]

Now the apple, in truth, God created it For the sole pleasure of the one who inhales and kisses it: Upon seeing it green and red Assembled in it – a beloved’s and lover’s face.

[התפוח] הֲיֵשׁ ָ כּזֹאת בְּצֶמַח הָאֲדָמָה-- / ְ סגוֹר ִ מחוּץ וְכֶסֶף מִפְּנִימָה? [...] כְּעַלְמָה שֶׁה ָ ֲד ָפוּה אֲנ ִ ָשׁים/ וְנֶהֶפְכָה ְ לרֹב בָּשְׁתָּה אֲֻדמָּה.45

[The Apple]

Is there anything like it growing on earth – Gold on the outside and silver within? […] Like a maiden jostled Blushing red in consternation.

44 Moses Ibn Ezra, [“Tapuah,”] HPSP, Vol. 2, 374. 45 Solomon Ibn Gabirol, [“Ha-tapuah,”] HPSP, Vol. 1, 219.

[התפוח]

אֲדוֹנִי, קַח בְּכַפּ ֶָך ְ מתוּקָה,/ וְת ִ ָר ַיח—וְתִשְׁכַּח ה ְ ַתּשׁוּקָה, אֲד ְַמדֶּמֶת שְׁתֵּי פָנִים כְּכַלָּה...46

[The Apple]

Take, dear sir, this sweetness in hand, Inhale - and forget your yearning, Blushing doubly pink-cheeked like a bride …

In the ‘apple poem’ excerpts, above, the apple is alternately a visual reflection of lovers, a twist on the valuable metals mentioned in Proverbs, a blushing maiden, a flushed- cheek bride. It is red and green. It is scented and sensual.

Conscious of the attributes of the apples of medieval belles lettres, Ravikovitch underscores their precious value and endows the golden apple of her contemporary writing with similar and additional influences and attributes. They include the pleasing colours and appealing shapes of visual beauty, sensory pleasures such as enticing flavour and scent, virtue and the belles lettres of passion and prophecy.

Ravikovitch’s golden apple is endowed with similar attributes:

ַ תּ ַפּוּח זָהָב [...] טֹבוּ מ ְ ַראָיו לְמַאֲכָלֵהוּ,

A golden apple […] With comely looks As her beloved’s repast

The golden apple is pleasing to the eye in general – tovu mar’av – and appealing as a treat for the palate – le-ma’akhal(ehu) – specifically for the one who wishes to savour her. The aspects of beauty and taste in the poem are anchored intertextually in loving

46 Solomon Ibn Gabirol, [“Ha-tapuah,”] HPSP, Vol. 1, 220.

noted in the Song of Songs47 and connected to the fruit of the primordially created trees of the Garden of Eden,48 as follows. Both aspects are emphasized through an intertextual echo that resounds as a result of the poet’s word choice. The rare biblical word tovu, meaning ‘goodly’ or ‘comely’ appears only twice in scriptures. Its occurrence in the Song of Songs relevant in the present context, where it refers to the beauty as well as flavour and fragrance of a lover’s loving, or kisses, perceived by her partner:

מַה יָּפוּ דֹד ְַיִך ֲ אחֹתִי כַלָּה מַה טֹּבוּ דֹד ְַיִך מִיַּיִן ֵ וְר ַיח שְׁמָנ ְַיִך מִכָּל בְּשׂ ִ ָמים:49 How beautiful is your loving, my sister-bride, How much better is your loving than wine, The fragrance of your oils than all spices.50

Both visual beauty and flavour, in the given excerpt, also call up echoes of the biblical narrative of the Garden of Eden which also uses the word tov – ‘fit’ or ‘good’. In that garden God planted:

כָּל עֵץ נֶחְמָד לְמַרְאֶה וְטוֹב לְמַאֲכָל ...51

every tree pleasant to regard and fit as food (Genesis 2:9)

Ravikovitch thus deploys the rare biblical word tovu to incorporate intertextual resonance in three-part harmony. Her golden apple of comely appearance – tovu mar’av – harmonizes with the good ‘loving’ or kisses of the beloved in the Song of Songs – tovu dodayikh – harmonizing with the fruit of the trees of the Garden of Eden, pleasant and good for both visual and oral intake: nehmad le-mar’e ve-tov le-ma’akhal. Indeed, as a golden apple, she is identified among the fruit of trees permitted to Adam and Eve of Hebrew Scriptures. Both aspects qualify her as a tasty and acceptable repast suited to the penchant of her beholder:

47 Song of Songs 4:10. 48 Genesis 2:9. 49 Song of Songs 4:10. 50 Translation of Song of Songs 4:10: Benjamin J. Segal, The Song of Songs: A Woman in Love, Translation and Commentary (Jerusalem and New York: Gefen Publishing House, 2009) 46. 51 Genesis 2:9

ָ בּרוֹת לְשִׁנָיו 52

Fine fare for the palette.

On account of her visual loveliness and anticipated tang, the golden apple is regarded as a delectable amuse bouche for her beloved to nibble. On account of her entity as ‘permitted fruit’ she is, by nature, virtuous.53

In addition to flavour the golden apple’s sensory attributes include fragrance. In the medieval maqaamot of Solomon Ibn Saqbel54 and Jacob ben Elazar55 scented apples are dispatched through the air by one lover to another in a gesture of courtly love. The nard and myrrh which perfume these apples hail from the Song of Songs.56 More specifically they are the fragrances of the Song’s awakening spring garden, site of youthful love and epicentre of divine love.57

52 Ravikovitch, ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav,” Kol ha-shirim, 15-16. 53 While Adam and Eve were forbidden by God to consume the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, whose variety is unspecified in Hebrew scriptures, they were permitted to help themselves to the fruit of visually attractive trees and of those which they found pleasing to the taste buds. Ravikovitch’s golden apple is identified on one level with the permitted fruit of these trees of Eden. A christological view of the biblical narrative of Eden identifies the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil as an apple. This trace multiplies the images in the poem, permitting a reading of the golden apple on another level, as forbidden fruit: the divine knowledge of good and evil, the knowledge of eros, named according to Genesis 3:6 as ‘enlightenment’ or ‘wisdom’: וַתֵּרֶא הָא ִָשּׁה כִּי טוֹב הָעֵץ לְמַאֲכָל וְכִי תַאֲוָה הוּא לָעֵינַיִם וְנֶחְמָד הָעֵץ לְהַשׂ ִ ְכּיל ... The woman saw that the tree was good for eating and a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was desirable as a source of wisdom… (Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Genesis 3:6.) The beloved who is about to savour the golden apple will ingest her ‘enlightenment’. Just as the ‘nature of the ‘enlightenment’ is left open to interpretation, so is the identity of the one who savours the golden apple in the poem. That being coincides with the image of Adam or Eve, or both. The combinations and permutations of erotically engaged Adams and Eves of the poem are, therefore, left open and multiple. 54 Solomon Ibn Saqbel, Mahberet Ne’um ’Asher ben Yehuda, HPSP, Vol. 2, 556-565. Henceforth: Ibn Saqbel, Ne’um ’Asher ben Yehuda. 55 Yona David, “Ha-mahberet ha-teshi‘i: ’ahavat sahar ve-khima,” Sippurei ’ahava shel Ya’akov ben ’El‘azar, (Ramat Aviv and Tel Zviv: Hotaza’at Ramot, Tel Aviv University), 87-106. Henceforth: David, Sippurei ’ahava. 56 Song of Songs 4:14, for example. 57 Laura Wiseman, “Tropes of Nostalgia: Song of Songs as the Natural Literary Habitat of the Hebrew Poets of Medieval Spain, presented at: ”A Colloquium on Continuity and Change, Centre for Medieval Studies, University of Toronto, Oct. 25-26, 2008.

In Ne’um ’Asher ben Yehuda, the earlier work by Ibn Saqbel, the apple is engraved on two faces with a poetic missive of courtly distance and courtly love and not immediately cherished by its recipient.58 In the later maqaamot of ben Elazar, known collectively as Sippurei ’ahava – Love Stories, there is a similar and arguably more spectacular occurrence. Treasured by the lovesick suitor Sahar, the apple of his beloved Kima is inscribed with exquisite verse as a gift of both love and poetry.59

Ravikovitch’s persona is both the poet who composes ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav and its central figure; that is to say, the persona writes of herself. She writes her ‘self’ in third person: she constructs a self who is a golden love apple. The persona propels her self as a beautiful gift of poetry into the internal recesses of her beloved. While there is no overt mention of scent in this poem, there are subtleties regarding the sensory nature of her journey. First, her oral ingress connotes a sensory experience of flavour and scent. Second, there is an all-encompassing sensory reference in the following stanza:

ַ תּ ַפּוּח זָהָב אָהַב אֶת אוֹכְלֵהוּ, אָהַב אֶת מ ֵ ַכּהוּ בְּכָל אֲב ָ ָריו.

A golden apple Loved her devourer, Loved the one who smote her60 Body and soul.

The gender constraints of the Hebrew render the text conveniently ambiguous, allowing the sense of ‘completely’, or more literally, ‘with every limb’ to apply equally to lover and

In this garden the Shulamite and her lover find, release and continue to seek one another in dream scene and conscious quest, in playful bouts and fevered pursuit, and every register of love in between. In an allegorical reading of the text the Shulamite and her beloved stand for the assembly of Israel and God respectively, mutually engaged in ‘hide and seek’. An erotic eading of the love poems pictures the awakening of love between a young man and woman and follows its currents throughout the courtship. 58 Ibn Saqbel, Ne’um ’Asher ben Yehuda, 557. 59 David, Sippurei ’ahava, 89. 60 As in n. 11 – She loved the one who smote her [with love].

beloved. The ambiguity can suggest that she loved her beloved’s every limb and organ, in every sense. As well or alternatively, the ambiguity can convey that she loved her beloved with every single one of her own limbs and organs, and in all senses. In multiple directions, physical sensation and sensory experience capture the imagination of the readers. With this fusion of amour, verse and sensory experience, in the epitome of all love letters – her self, Ravikovitch’s golden apple is elevated to the heights of belles lettres laced with passion.

In the same era that Jacob ben Elazar pens his literary Love Stories, Abraham Ibn Ezra comments on the biblical Song of Songs, equating ‘sweet-delicacies and apples’ to poets. In the extension of his commentary they are related to both prophecy and wisdom. He connects wisdom and prophecy to providing golden apples.

באשישות - כלי זכוכית מליאות יין: רפדוני - בלשון ישמעאל כמו חזקוני [...] בית היין - הוא בית ה' מקום נסוך היין, וענין אשישות ותפוחים הם המשוררים הלא תראה ימשל דברי הנבואה ליין וחלב וכן חכמות נשים בנתה ביתה מסכה יינה ועוד תפוחי זהב:61

With sweet-delicacies – glass flasks filled with wine: Bolster me – in Arabic, like fortify me […] To the winery – That is God’s (house) [temple], the place of wine libations, and [as to] the matter of sweet-delicacies and apples, they are the poets. Do you not see that words of prophecy are being likened to wine and milk. And likewise “Wisdom has built her house […] poured her wine” (Proverbs 9:1-2); moreover [she has set out] golden apples.

By association the voice of Ravikovitch’s golden apple gains influence and stature as wise and prophetic. Ravikovitch also invests the golden apple with the visionary sexual multiplicity inherent in her écriture féminine. This is evident in the golden apple’s ease and ability to traverse the boundaries of her beloved’s body. The golden apple is possessed of that which Cixous deems “vatic bisexuality”:62 that is, prophecy of

61 Abraham Ibn Ezra, commentary on the Song of Songs 2:5. 62 Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 281.

sexuality “which doesn’t annul differences but stirs them up, pursues them, increases their number.”63 To be sure the kind of prophecy inherent in the ‘multiplicity’ of écriture féminine differs from the nature of the prophecy which Ibn Ezra projected. Just as at times the words and the deeds of prophets do not register with their contemporaries, it may well be that the wisdom and prophecy of Ravikovitch’s golden apple did not fully register with all members of the poem’s initial readership.

For years the golden apple’s prophecy was accessible but not always accessed. In the nineteen-fifties this poet’s golden apple was highly conscious of her advantage of having “in-formation”.64 It has taken some of her readers another half century to glimpse it. In a mode of thinking similar to that which coins the metaphor for the reality of women’s “in-formation”, Maimonides (1138 – 1204) interprets the golden apples of Proverbs and their ‘transpicuous’ silver casings through analogy. In the introduction to The Guide of the Perplexed, Maimonides contrasts their precious metal components in distinguishing between “tzura” – inner essence, and “to’ar” – outward perceivable form.65 This analogy is instructive in gaining access to the prophecy of Ravikovitch’s poetic golden apples.

Ravikovitch crafts each poem as a maskit - a precious and intricate silver filigree vessel. Its to’ar or ‘form’ is lovely to regard and beautiful to read. The surface structures, specific wordings and cadences of the poems are, themselves, pleasing to the eye, the ear and the lips. The poem ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav is pleasant to read, hear or recite because of its naïve-sounding surface structure. It has the charm of a parable with talking trees who converse with the gravitas of biblical phraseology. There is an

63 Loc. cit. 64 Hamutal Tsamir, “Jewish-Israeli Poetry, Dahlia Ravikovitch, and the Gender of Representation,” Jewish Social Studies 14.3 (Spring/Summer 2008): 102. In the context of situating a male to female gender transformation in the symbolic identity of Israel, beyond the early statehood generation, Hamutal Tsamir asserts regarding women, “Precisely because of their marginal status, they have access to the internal structure – the in-formation […]” 65 Moses Maimonides, introduction, The Guide for the Perplexed, trans. M. Friedländer (New York: Dover Publications, 1956 unaltered republication of 1904 second edition), 1-11.

irresistible thrill to the traces of the peril which these trees convey at the level of surface structure.

The surface elements of form are, nevertheless, only the external trappings of the prophetic treasures that reside deep within Ravikovitch’s poems. Each poem houses the inner essence and deep secrets of an attractive golden apple. In the case of ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav the inner essence is precisely that: the lovely golden apple who is Ravikovitch’s persona. The deep secrets are the many facets of this talented persona: visual beauty, fine flavour and fragrance, virtue, belles lettres of poetry, passion and prophecy. They peek through their silver filigree form but require careful scrutiny to be perceived individually and in sum.

By virtue of her education and milieu, Dahlia Ravikovitch was well read in bible and familiar with related midrash. By virtue of her imagination and gift for polished language she was skilful in employing biblical cadences and reverberations as well as references to elements of rabbinic literature. She was also steeped in the subsequent layers of Hebrew literature and would, therefore, have been aware of associations with apples of medieval Hebrew poetry and more. Her speaker encodes the golden apple-motif with their echoes and élan.

Readers may return, then, to the title of Ravikovitch’s poem knowing that on a level close to the surface, the golden apple is pleasing in colour and appealing in shape, flavourful, scented, virtuous and sensuous. Readers also know that there is more to the golden apple than first meets the eye. She is far from the frivolous fool that the citron envisions. She is not about to allow herself to be destructively devoured; savoured, perhaps, but not devoured. She is not the sinner that the fruitless arbour imagines, about to wantonly breach inflexible boundaries. She knows how to tread lightly. She knows how to glide. There are exalted purposes to her intended influx. She enters her lover with eros, with love and philosophic wisdom. The persona permeates her lover with the belles lettres of fine poetry, of passion and pleasure as prophecy and, as will be seen, as the treasured essence of the secrets of creation.

Hélène Cixous observes that writers who inhabit the sphere of écriture féminine descend to the depths in order to gain access to their writing process. She links the rich natural reserves present in the depths to those of the days of creation:

Writing is not put there, it does not happen out there, it does not come from outside. On the contrary, it comes from deep inside. It comes from what Genet calls the “nether realms,” the inferior realms (domaines inférieurs). […] this is where the treasure of writing lies, where it is formed, where it has stayed since the beginning of creation: down below.66

Cixous adds that, “The name of the place changes according to our writers. […] It is deep in my body, further down behind thought […] my womb, and if you have not got a womb – then it is somewhere ‘else’.”67

Ravikovitch’s persona, who naturally feels writing deep in her body in a reservoir of creation, exerts herself to descend to the depths of her beloved’s body to share creative impulses there as well:

ַ תּ ַפּוּח זָהָב נִבְלַע ְ בּאוֹכְלֵהוּ, בָּא ְ בּ ֵ עוֹרהוּ, אַף בִּבְשׂ ָ ָריו.

A golden apple, Enveloped by her devourer Entered her beloved, Even suffusing the flesh.

Ravikovitch’s persona thus exerts herself, taking extraordinary measures to traverse the barriers of her beloved’s body. She sends torrents of her creative essence through her beloved’s being, suffusing her beloved’s flesh from the inside with her poetry and prophecy, wisdom and secrets.68 Cixous notes the obstacles and exertion exacted by

66 Cixous, Ladder of Writing 118. 67 Cixous, Ladder of Writing 118. 68 While Juliette Hassine asserts that the transition of the golden apple to the body of her beloved does not entail perdition, she projects the golden apple’s agenda as a quest to gain the beloved’s ‘better,

such a quest for descent to the depths to find and share the gifts at the heart of creativity:

You must climb down in order to go in the direction of that place. But […] this sort of descent is much more difficult to achieve, much more tiring, much more physically exacting (physically because the soul is body), than climbing up. […] it requires the whole strength of everything that is you […] – to go through the various doors, obstacles, walls and distances we have forged to make a life69

Upon stepping back, readers will recall that the golden apple is the speaker’s figure d’altérité and that this is her initial verbal self-portrait. Clearly the persona has set sublime standards for herself in her construction of self. She makes it known from the very first page of the oeuvre that she is a golden apple. She is a poet. She is passionate. She is a prophet. She seeks and confers love, language, philosophy, ‘abundance and multiplicity’, wisdom and essence. She is in search of the treasures of creation and a being with whom to share them. In Chapter Four, it will be shown that in addition to her entity as golden apple, the persona subtly cloaks herself as both bat melekh and sofer mahir – a royal princess and a skilled scribe.

With the acknowledgement that there are generations of readers and writers who read only masochism or compulsion to interact with a destructive lover in this poem,70 it can now be read in an additional dimension. With the acknowledgement that there are those who imagine only death and destruction by dint of devouring, there is now an option to read the subject of the term okhlehu in a positive light. Readers may view this being as the beloved who savours the lover, the beloved who seeks to draw her in orally. Remarkably Ravikovitch defies the constraints of language and body in an extremely avant-garde feat of écriture féminine: her speaker manages to glide through those

more exalted wisdom’ – “be-shel hokhmato ha-tova ve-ha-na‘ala yoter” – and an opportunity for a newly realized self.” In: Hassine, Shirah u-mitos, 58-59. This study take the approach that the golden apple has precious gifts of wisdom, and creative essence to confer, and chooses to do so through suffusion from within the core of her beloved’s being. 69 Cixous, Ladder of Writing, 118. 70 Miri Barukh, “Ha-himashekhut la-’ohev ha-mashhit,” ‘Iyyunim be-shirat Ravikovitch, 35-46.

limens to fully enter the person of her beloved. There she descends to the depths in quest for creative treasure and fertilizes her beloved from within with her own creative essence.

At the same time we are left with the conundrum of the meaning of ‘strike’ at the root of the word makkehu. In light of the eros of the poem and concerns of the persona in the sphere of love, I propose the following phrase to translate the sense of makkehu: ‘the one who smites (him/it) [her] [with love]’. To paraphrase the beginning of the fourth stanza of the poem in this light I would offer that the figure of the golden apple is falling deeply in love with the one who seeks to savour her. She is smitten with the one who smites her with the ‘condition’ of love:

ַ תּ ַפּוּח זָהָב אָהַב אֶת אוֹכְלֵהוּ, אָהַב אֶת מ ֵ ַכּהוּ71

A golden apple Loved her devourer, Loved the one who smote her

As illustrated in Chapter Two love is experienced by the persona as a perennial source of suffering. Worse than that, it is a potentially fatal affliction. As much as the speaker craves love and finds euphoria in its initial phases, she is always at risk of being either ‘burned’ or ‘drowned’ by love.

The Hebrew term makka, in both its biblical and contemporary vernacular senses, conveys an intense affliction. In the plural, the term makkot calls up biblical reverberations of plagues. The ten plagues visited upon Egypt during the period of Israelite enslavement serve as an example. The word is also reminiscent of the potentially fatal afflictions, expressed as curses, in Deuteronomic admonishments to the Israelites were they not to heed the word of the Almighty.72 A poet’s usage of the word makka is accordingly ominous.

71 Ravikovitch, ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav,” Kol ha-shirim, 15-16. 72 In Deuteronomy 28:28, for example, the Israelites are warned that disobeying divine commandments would lead to dire afflictions:

A makka in the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch is, nevertheless, somewhat mysterious in that it is not immediately clear whether it holds a positive or negative connotation for the speaker. There is certainly an aspect of the sudden and amazing onset of a makka that the persona values. In Shir shel hesberim73 for example, the term makka occurs in a bound construct – makkat sanverim. On the one hand the term carries the negative biblical association of sanverim. Sanverim refers to the temporary affliction of blindness with which the people of Sodom were stricken when they swarmed the doorway of Lot and pressed him to surrender his ‘guests’ to their appetites and attentions.74 On the other hand in Shir shel hesberim this temporary, stunning bout of blindness is triggered by the positively astonishing flowering of the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valley. This makka, as an affirmation of beauty and wonder, is a gift. In the Song of Songs the same two blooms are celebrated as a metaphor. Together they are the floral self-portrait of a lover painted in verbal hendiadys by one who declares: “I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valley.”75

In Ravikovitch’s poetry these two blossoms, intertextually scented with love, have the potential to bring about makkat sanverim:

יֵשׁ אֲנ ִ ָשׁים ֶ שׁיּוֹד ִ ְעים לֶאֱהֹב וְיֵשׁ אֲנ ִ ָשׁים שֶׁזֶּה לֹא מַת ִ ְאים לָהֶם. יֵשׁ אֲנ ִ ָשׁים שֶׁמִּתְנַשּׁ ִ ְקים בּ ְ ָרחוֹב וְיֵשׁ אֲח ִ ֵרים שֶׁזֶּה לֹא נ ִ ָעים לָהֶם, וְלֹא רַק בּ ְ ָרחוֹב. אֲנִי חוֹשֶׁבֶת שֶׁזֶּה כּ ְ ִשׁרוֹן ְ כּמוֹ כָּל הַכּ ְ ִשׁרוֹנוֹת, אוּלַי זֶה ְ יִתרוֹן, ְ כּמוֹ חֲבַצֶּלֶת ה ָ ַשּׁרוֹן ֶ שׁיּוֹדַעַת ל ְ ִפ ַרֹח, ְ כּמוֹ שׁוֹשַׁנָּה בָּעֲמ ִ ָקים

יַכְּכָה ה' בְּשִׁגָּעוֹן וּבְעִוָּרוֹן וּבְת ְ ִמהוֹן לֵבָב: “God will strike you with madness, blindness and ‘numbness of heart’.” 73 Ravikovitch, “Shir shel hesberim,” [literally, “A Song of Explanations” or “A Litany of Excuses,”] Kol ha- shirim, 193-194. The title of the poem evokes a contrast to the title Song of Songs. 74 Genesis 19:11 75 Song of Songs 2:1.

ֶ שׁבּוֹחֶרֶת לְעַצְמָהּ אֶת צְבָע ֶָיה. אַתָּה יוֹדֵַע שׁוֹשָׁן וַחֲבַצֶּלֶת כְּשֶׁהֵם פּוֹר ִ ְחים מ ִ ַכּים אוֹת ְָך בַּסַּנְו ִ ֵרים... 76

There are some people who just know how to love And other people to whom it just doesn’t come naturally. There are those who can kiss on the street And others whom it just doesn’t suit, And not just on the street. I think it’s a talent like any other talent, Maybe it’s an advantage, Like a rose of Sharon That just knows how to blossom, Or like a lily of the valley That chooses its own colours. You know A lily or a rose, when they blossom They smite you with blindness …

In this poem, the speaker expresses admiration for people to whom love comes naturally. She compares their innate talent for loving to the knack of the rose of Sharon for blossoming and to the aptitude of the lily to take on colours of its choice. It is in the same positive vein that the speaker relates the makkat sanverim brought on by their flowering. The blossoming and striking burst of colour are portrayed as desirable. The persona’s admiration of these phenomena conveys a positive association with the word makka. Readers aware of the scriptural love intertextually built into the cellular constitution of these flowers may make a mental association between makkat sanverim and makkat ’ahava; being subjected to a positively amazing bout of temporary blindness brought on by sudden, intense exposure to beauty is related to being smitten with love and vice verse. It is becoming apparent that makkat ’ahava – a bout of stunning love, in the lexicon of this poet, is a mixed blessing. In part it is an affirmation of beauty and wonder; in part it is an arresting, repelling hindrance – an affliction.

Incidental to the discussion of makka, but pertinent to the persona’s construction of self as an apple and predilection for high colour, the poem Shir shel hesberim concludes

76 Ravikovitch, “Shir shel hesberim,” Kol ha-shirim, 193-194.

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with an interesting reference. The persona refers to herself as one who does not fit into the category of people to whom loving is an inherent talent.77 Among the epithets she employs to address herself directly, in this matter, is tapuah she-’einenu ma’adim – “apple that does not (redden) [ripen]”:

ַ תּ ַפּוּח שׁ ֵ ֶאינֶנּוּ מַא ִ ְדּים.78

It should be noted that ruddiness is a hue associated with choice gold in medieval Hebrew poetry.79 The overlap facilitates a return to thoughts of apples which are golden. In addition to reading this epithet as a readily accessible metaphor to connote lack of ripeness or immaturity, it may be read as the persona expressing further regrets to herself, about herself, on the metaphoric level. One regret pertains to not having carried on living as intensely or as ‘colourfully’ as she had hoped. A second is for not yet having lived up to the lofty goals she had set for herself as a golden apple.

Also incidental to the discussion of makka, yet relevant to the speaker’s admiration of colourful lilies, is her appreciation of their purity. She mentions them in this regard in describing the eyes of a dear friend Mickey as he recalls the glory days. Like the persona he too feels the absence of intensity of days gone by. He too is pictured as harbouring regrets about not having lived up to standards to which he aspired in his youth. He was once a vital naval captain who sailed the tempestuous seas. Twenty-five years later his morale is exceedingly low and he lacks any glimmer of joy.

77 This point of view differs from the one that comes through in the translation of Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch in The Window, 73. Bloch and Bloch translate the final stanza with the persona trying to convince herself that she is not an anomaly, such as a “bird of paradise”, “a three-headed calf” or “an apple that doesn’t ripen.” I read the stanza as the persona addressing herself with epithets, such as “war-horse” and “apple that does not ripen” to convey that she is indeed different from people to whom love and loving come naturally and easily. 78 Ravikovitch, “Shir shel hesberim,” Kol ha-shirim, 193-194. 79 For example, Samuel Ibn Nagrela, also known as Shemuel Hanagid, compares the tone of wine to that of gold: ס ְ ַמּכוּנִי בָּא ִ ֲשׁישׁוֹת ְמֵלאוֹת ָפּז. Sustain me with glass flagons filled with fine gold. Shemuel ha-nagid, in Dov Yarden, ed. Diwan Shemuel Hanagid. Vol. 2: Ben mishlei, (Jerusalem: Hebrew Union College, 1983) 188.

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כְּשֶׁעֵינָיו הַכְּחֻלּוֹת מִתְמ ְ ַלּאוֹת דּ ָ ְמעוֹת הֵן זַכּוֹת יוֹתֵר ִ משּׁוֹשַׁנִּים [...]80

When his blue eyes well up with tears They are purer than lilies […]

As beautiful as these flowers are in appearance to the persona, it is not the lilies on their own that she adores but their qualities. Occasionally it is their purity that registers with her, as in the description of Mickey’s lachrymose eyes. Mostly, however, it is their sudden burst from the earth and their riotous colour.81 This thesis adds that it is their potential to bring about the makka – the invigorating jolt for which she yearns. The speaker pictures herself waiting aeons for this very sensation in the poem Zikkaron tamim [A Pure Memory]82 which will be discussed further in Chapter Seven.

The oeuvre bears further support for the idea that the speaker yearns for a reinforcing, explosive colourburst. It is highlighted in absentia in Yereq ‘alim [Greenery].83 There the energizing charge that the speaker associates with brightness and suddenness of flowering, such that the rose and lily can deliver, is sorely missed:

פֶּרַח אָדֹם גָּדוֹל לֹא פּוֹרֵץ ִ מ ְתּוֹך הַיּ ְ ַרקוּת. פֶּרַח גָּדוֹל בַּל יִמָּצֵא. שְׁנַת אֶלֶף תְּשַׁע ֵ מאוֹת וְתִשׁ ִ ְעים ֵ אינָהּ שְׁנַת הַפְּר ִ ָחים הַגְּ ִ דוֹלים.84

No big red blossom bursts forth from the greenery. Not a single big flower is to be found. 1990 is definitely not the year of the big flowers.

80 Ravikovitch, “Miqi ha-yaqar,” [“Dear Mickey”] Kol ha-shirim, 142-143 81 Robert Alter, foreword, The Window: poems by Dahlia Ravikovitch, transl. Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch (Riverdale-on-Hudson: Sheep Meadow Press, 1989), ix. Robert Alter notices the poet’s desire “for such sudden flowering of color and rapturous (sometimes frightening) intensity.” He distinguishes between poems in which the poet hopes for these, and those in which she visualizes them. 82 Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim, 161. 83 Ravikovitch, “Yereq ‘alim,” Kol ha-shirim, 301-302. 84 Loc. cit.

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As odd as it sounds, a makka of the sort yearned for would be a welcome experience for the speaker: its spectre, even just a trace of the colourburst craved, may be perceived as present in the poem.85 Such a makka would deliver the desperately needed vitality in this otherwise deadly year to which the speaker alludes. Such a makka would produce genuine mother’s milk, not the artificial infant formula named in Yereq ‘alim:

לֹא הָיְתָה לִי שָׁנָה רָעָה ִ מזֹּאת בְּכָל יְמֵי חַיַּי וְי ְ ַרקוּת הָע ִ ֵצים מַגִּירָה רַח ִ ֲמים ְ כּמוֹ תְמִסַּת מַטֶרְנָה שֶׁיֵּשׁ בָּהּ חֲלַב אֵם מְלָאכוּתִי, קַל ְ ְציוּם ִ וּמינֶר ִ ָלים.86

I’ve never had a worse year in my entire life and the greenness of the trees is pouring with Materna containing artificial mother’s milk, calcium and minerals.

According to Hélène Cixous genuine mother’s milk is the productive ‘white ink’ always present within women; and the term ‘mother’ in context refers to: “the equivoice that affects you, fills your breast with an urge to come to language and launches your force; the rhythm that laughs you; […] makes all metaphors possible and desirable […]”87 The speaker, a poet herself, needs such a makka in order to thrive and in order for her fruit — poetry — to flourish.

Implicit in Yereq ‘alim is the speaker’s desperate need for the kind of makka that accompanies the astonishing colour-explosion of big red blossoms known to open with

85 The vitality missed in this poem, yet made present through the spectre of flowering and colourburst, is reminiscent of ‘the force’ in the well known poem by Dylan Thomas, called: “The Force That Through the Green Fuse Drives the Flower”. That force also marshals the speaker’s youth or “green age”, “drives the water through the rocks” and motivates his lifeblood and libido. In: Dylan Thomas, The Poems of Dylan Thomas, ed. Daniel Jones (New York: New Directions, 2003. revised edition.) 90. Both Dylan Thomas and Dahlia Ravikovitch write of a vital force which waxes and wanes over the course of a lifetime. Its presence is life affirming, stimulating and productive; its absence is lamentable and a harbinger of inevitable decline. 86 Ravikovitch, “Yereq ‘alim,” Kol ha-shirim, 301-302. 87 Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 280.

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surprising alacrity: a dose of vitality. Such a makka would remove her from dreariness. It would prompt her writer’s pen to flow with ‘white ink’. Elsewhere in the poetic corpus, in the context of the persona’s perception of waning eros, she conveys an analogously acute craving. She aches for a torrent of eros to be delivered in a highly concentrated titration: vanilla.88 She yearns for this essential elixir of vitality in order for her poetic language to flow. This phenomenon will be discussed further in Chapter Four, in looking at the centrepiece among the persona’s more advanced verbal self-portraits.

The fact that the astounding flowering of the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valley can bring on a makkat sanverim is presented as positive. Stunning blindness blots out misery. It distracts the persona from the distress she feels in everyday living as is

evident in poems such as Yereq ‘alim. It can jolt her out of the doldrums. At the same time readers can hardly ignore the fact that the particular makka which the speaker associates with the positive is loss of sight. This fact makes the makka a dual-edged sword. On the one hand the sudden burst of vitality diverts the speaker from the vagaries and inevitable miseries she feels so keenly in daily life. That, for her, is positive. On the other hand sudden blindness is without question an affliction that negatively distorts the perception of sighted individuals.

That sobering fact restores the attention of readers to a consideration of the word makkehu in the poem ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav. What is the substance of the makka with which makkehu – the one who smites her, affects the golden apple? I contend that it is makkat ’ahava: the ‘smitten condition’ of love. Like makkat sanverim – the temporary bout of stunning blindness, love is a dual-edged sword. It is both exhilarating and blinding. In this sense makkat ’ahava is the equivalent of makkat sanverim in the experience of the persona. Makkat ’ahava is experienced by the persona as an invigorating burst of vitality in love’s initial phase of infatuation. It diverts her attention from the potentially distressing reality of the world around her. While it brings the speaker some relief, this phenomenon is worrisome to her peers. It triggers their warnings and derision. It is impossible to overlook the fact that the initial euphoria

88 Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.

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distorts the golden apple’s vision of the perils with which love is fraught, especially for one so susceptible to its risks.

To be sure there are times, such as in ’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav, when the golden apple finds her way into the interior of her beloved for the union and permeation she so strongly desires to bring about. At other times, however, as shown in Hitrosheshut [Impoverishment]89 in Chapter Five, the persona finds herself so afflicted with love that she can see no respite other than to engulf herself in its flames or to surround herself with its deep waters. Such is the lot of a golden apple smitten with the one who smites her with love.

3.3 Summary

To summarize, the concentrated language of poetry calls for encrypted motifs and encoded images. Dahlia Ravikovitch launches her oeuvre with the golden apple, a motif with an already celebrated reputation in global literature, and continues to encrypts it even more densely. She does so with the abundant riches of the biblical and medieval layers of Hebrew language and literature. She also endows the golden apple singular independence of mind and body in matters of eros, facilitating an ability to traverse boundaries that have commonly been considered barriers.

The poet commences the corpus with a verbal portrait of herself as a golden apple. She encodes this figure of alterity with the gifts of eros, love, philosophy, alchemy, wisdom, belles lettres of fine poetry, passion, prophecy and pure essence verging on the secrets of creation. This golden apple seeks synthesized unity with the one she loves; she seeks to infuse that being from within with her own entity and endowments. These embrace the visual beauty of line and colour, sensory delights of fragrance and flavour, virtue and sensual pleasure. In an extraordinary feat of écriture féminine she succeeds at both the fusion and the suffusion.

89 Ravikovitch, “Hitrosheshut,” Kol ha-shirim, 174.

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As boldly independent and strong as the persona may be as a golden apple, for this delicate soul love is an affliction that smites as severely as a plague. It renders her lovelorn and longing for relief. The next chapter looks at the natural, personal resources upon which the speaker draws in order to contend with her ailments of love.

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Chapter Four Figure of Royalty and a Skilled Scribe: Descent into Eros, Descent into Writing 4.1 Preface

The previous chapter shows that the persona of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poetry commences the corpus with her self-portrait as a golden apple. She encodes this figure d’altérité with the gifts of love, eros, wisdom, alchemy, the belles lettres of fine poetry, prophecy, passion and pure essence verging on the secrets of creation. As boldly independent and strong as the persona may be as a golden apple in love, for this delicate soul love is a makka: an affliction that smites as severely as a plague. It renders her lovelorn and longing for relief.

This chapter adds three elements to the body of research on the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch. The first is a decryption of the figure d’altérité as a figure of royalty and a skilled scribe in a principal self-portrait called Portret.1 This study addresses the decryption through the detection of an intertextual duet which Ravikovitch initiates upon a foundation of Hebrew bible and commentary. The second is an analysis of the encoding of one of the natural resources upon which the persona draws in order to contend with her lovelorn condition. This study approaches the analysis through the lens of écriture féminine and its essential ‘white ink’. The third element which this chapter contributes is an illustration of the convergence of eros and creative vitality for the royal poet-persona, both in Portret and in the broader context of the oeuvre. This study approaches the illustration by addressing the first two decryptions in tandem. The convergence of creative vitality and eros is an essential key to the self constructed in the poems: it informs the speaker’s personal version of sweet-delicacies and apples.2

1 Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137. 2 Song of Songs 2:5. As noted in Chapters 2 and 3 these substances of sustenance, summoned by the female lover at the heart of one of the love poems in the Song of Songs, are interpreted and translated variously as flagons of wine and apples, raisin cakes and apples, and similar sweet-delicacies.

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The nexus of these two elements presents as the substance of existential sustenance which the persona profoundly craves in order to go on living, loving and writing.

4.2 Central Self-portrait of the Oeuvre: Portrait

Portrait [Portret] reveals the quintessential inner identity of the persona. Chapter Three examined the encryption of the persona as a golden love apple with powers of love, poetry, prophecy, wisdom, eros and more. This chapter begins the examination of Portret with a brief general discussion of the construction of self through dialogue, through the projection of another figure of alterity, and by acknowledging the presence of a ‘trinity’ of self through the performance of bios. The analysis progresses to the intertextual encryption of the persona as royalty and a skilled scribe. It proceeds with an inquiry into the encoding of the substance and process which together fuel the life and writing of this lovelorn being. It continues by identifying their convergence, both in the poem and the oeuvre. The text of the poem is as follows:

פורטרט ִ היא יוֹשֶׁבֶת י ִ ָמים ר ִ ַבּים בּ ֵ ְביתָהּ. ִ היא ֵ קוֹראת עִתּוֹנִים. (מַה יֵּשׁ, אַתָּה לֹא קוֹרֵא?) ִ היא ֵ אינָהּ עוֹשָׂה מַה שֶּׁהָיְתָה רוֹצָה לַעֲשׂוֹת יֵשׁ לָהּ ִ ע ִ כּוּבים. ִ היא רוֹצָה וָנִיל, ַהרְבֵּה וָנִיל, תֵּן לָהּ וָנִיל. ַ בּחֹרֶף קַר לָהּ, קַר לָהּ מַמָּשׁ קַר לָהּ יוֹתֵר מֵאֲשֶׁר לַאֲח ִ ֵרים. ִ היא מִתְלַבֶּשֶׁת ֵ היטֵב וַעֲדַיִן קַר לָהּ. ִ היא רוֹצָה וָנִיל. ִ היא לֹא נוֹלְדָה א ְ ֶתמוֹל, אִם זֶה מַה ֶ שּׁאַתָּה חוֹשֵׁב. זֹאת לֹא פַּעַם ִ ראשׁוֹנָה שֶׁקַּר לָהּ. לֹא פַּעַם ִ ראשׁוֹנָה חֹרֶף. בְּעֶצֶם גַּם הַקַּיִץ ֵ אינֶנּוּ נ ִ ָעים. ִ היא ֵ קוֹראת עִתּוֹנִים יוֹתֵר מִמַּה שֶּׁהָיְתָה רוֹצָה. ַ בּחֹרֶף ִ היא לֹא זָזָה בְּלִי ַ תנּוּר. ְ נִמאָס לָהּ לִפְע ִ ָמים. הַאִם ִ היא בִּקְשָׁה מִמּ ְָך ה ְַרבֵּה דְב ִ ָרים?

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תּוֹדֶה ֶ שׁלֹּא. ִ היא רוֹצָה וָנִיל. אִם תִּרְצֶה לְה ִ ַבּיט מ ָ ִקּרוֹב, יֵשׁ לָהּ חֲצ ִ ָאית מְשֻׁבֶּצֶת. ִ היא אוֹהֶבֶת חֲצ ִ ָאית מְשֻׁבֶּצֶת כִּי זֶה ע ִ ַלּיז. לְה ִ ַבּיט עָל ֶָיה, אַתָּה תִצְחַק. ַ הכֹּל ְ מגֹח ְָך כָּל כּ ְָך. א ִ ֲפלּוּ ִ היא צוֹחֶקֶת לָזֶה לִפְע ִ ָמים. קָשֶׁה לָהּ ַ בּחֹרֶף וְרַע לָהּ בַּקַּיִץ, אַתָּה תִצְחַק. אֶפְשָׁר לְהַגִּ יד ִ מימוֹזָה, עוֹף שׁ ֵ ֶאינוֹ פּוֹרֵח, אֶפְשָׁר לְהַגִּ יד הַרְבֵּה דְב ִ ָרים. ִ היא ת ִ ָמיד מִתְעַטֶּפֶת בְּמ ֶ ַשּׁהוּ וְנֶחְנֶקֶת, לִפְע ִ ָמים חֲצ ִ ָאית מְשֻׁבֶּצֶת וְעוֹד בְּג ִ ָדים תּ ְ ִשׁאַל, לָמָּה ִ היא מִתְעַטֶּפֶת כְּשֶׁאֶפְשָׁר לְהֵחָנֵק? הַדְּב ִ ָרים הָאֵלֶּה מְסֻבּ ִ ָכים. זֶה ַ הקֹּר ַ בּחֹרֶף ַ וְהחֹם הַמֻּפְרָז בַּקַּיִץ, אַף פַּעַם לֹא ְ כּמוֹ שֶׁצּ ִ ְר ִ יכים. וְדֶר ְֶך אַגַּב, אַל תִּשְׁכַּח, ִ היא רוֹצָה וָנִיל, עַכְשָׁו ִ היא א ִ ֲפלּוּ בּוֹכָה. תֵּן לָהּ וָנִיל.3

Portrait

She sits in the house for days on end. Reading newspapers. (Come on, don’t you?) She doesn’t do what she’d like to do, she’s got inhibitions. She wants vanilla, lots of vanilla, give her vanilla.

In winter she’s cold, really cold, colder than other people. She bundles up but she’s still cold. She wants vanilla.

She wasn’t born yesterday, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s not the first time she’s cold. Not the first time it’s winter. In fact, summer isn’t so pleasant either. She reads newspapers more than she’d like to.

3 Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.

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In winter she won’t budge without the heater. Sometimes she gets fed up with it all. Has she ever asked that much of you? Admit it: she hasn’t. She wants vanilla.

Should you care to look closer, she’s wearing a plaid skirt. She likes a plaid skirt because it’s cheery. Just to look at her, you’d laugh. It’s all so ludicrous. Even she laughs about it on occasion. She has a hard time in the winter, a rough time in the summer, you’d laugh. One might say a mimosa, a bird that won’t fly, there’s plenty of things one might say. Always bundling up in something or other until she chokes, on occasion a plaid skirt and other clothes. Why bundle up if it makes her choke, you’d ask. These things are complicated.

It’s the cold in winter, the intense heat in summer, never what you need. And by the way, don’t you forget, she wants vanilla. Now she’s even crying. Give her vanilla.4 4.3 Construction of Self: Performing Bios

In Portret, the speaker makes use of several techniques to construct her self in general, and to perform bios, in particular. One general technique is the incorporation of the self in a dialogue, a recognized hallmark of women’s self-writing5 and extends to the self- writing of men who integrate relational modes. The dialogue in Portret takes place in the present tense of the poem’s frame of reference. This practice conveys that the poem is being performed as event now, in ‘real time’ to use the meta-language of present day information technology. The sensation of ‘real time’, characteristic of bios in writing, is

4 Ravikovitch, “Portrait,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 124-125. 5 Eloise Bell, “Telling One’s Story,” 167-176.

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reinforced though elements of familiar discourse such as: “Come on, don’t you?”; matter-of-fact phrasing such as, “And by the way […]”; and prepositions of time indicating the present moment, such as ‘now’ as in, “Now she’s even crying.”

What links these acts of speech to the phenomenon of dialogue is their purpose, which is noted in research on women’s self-writing as being “related to the aims of ordinary conversation” such as to relate to others.6 An illustration of this phenomenon was seen, for example, in Ha-beged. A feature that distinguishes the dialogue of this poem is that it is fractional, only one party is audible. The only voice heard in dramatic monologue is that of the speaker. The masculine, singular “you” appealed to as ’atta, in direct address, is never actually heard to respond.7

A second self-fashioning technique used by the speaker is the projection of a figure of alterity. Chapter Two provided a scenario of a figure d’altérité – a golden apple projected in retrospect. The mode of projection in Portret positions this technique as bios – the written verbal correlative of performance art: that is, through writing the speaker is performing herself – an aspect or aspects of herself – in the moment. This performance is accomplished through use of the present tense and by having the “I”, referring to the speaker, give a running account of what “she” is up to. The “she”, in this case, is the projected figure of alterity.

This ‘other’, who is herself, is not cast here as cryptically as the golden apple of “’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav”; here she is a woman much like the speaker herself. It is as though “she” is observed in a mirror by the speaker while the speaker verbally paints ‘her’ onto a canvas as her own self-portrait. Allowing for the possibility that the silence of the presumed interlocutor can mean that on some level there might not be an interlocutor

6 Bell, “Telling One’s Story,” 167-176. 7 Yizhak Laor, “Ma yesh be-Dahlia Ravikovitch she-shoveh et ha-lev?” [“What is it About Dahlia Ravikovitch that Captivates the Heart?”] Ma‘ariv 28.7.95. Yitzhak Laor analyzes the phenomenon of the supplication to a masculine, singular ‘you’ in a number of Ravikovitch’s poems. In noting that the speaker often turns to the one who inflicts her woes, about her woes, Laor ponders what it is in the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch that captures the hearts of readers, men and women, who themselves generate such appeals.

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present, then the speaker could be performing a conversation with her fragmented self: “I”, “you”, and “she”.

Either way, in allowing for this range of fragmentation, or decentering of self, Ravikovitch’s persona is actually taking advantage of what is usually seen as a problematic issue of referentiality in self-writing. That is, the persona is exploiting to best advantage that to which Philippe Lejeune refers as the “tension between impossible unity and intolerable division.”8 The same point that Norman Rockwell makes through visual art in his 1960 Triple Self Portrait is performed verbally by Ravikovitch’s persona in a self-portrait: that is, in this third-noted technique of self-writing the speaker is, in essence, performing the ‘trinity’ who together make up the facets of her sometimes less- than-unified self.

4.4 Intertextual Encryption of Self: Figure of Royalty, Skilled Scribe

Whether the speaker occupies the two roles of “I” and “she”, or the three of “I”, “you” and “she”, the persona is performing multiple aspects of self simultaneously and prismatically. Literary scholars who have studied this poem over the decades have discerned several of the prisms of self refracted through this performance of self. By and large the consensus is that the speaker is a writer suffering the ill effects of inertia. She is uncomfortable in every way. I articulate the phenomenon as follows: the speaker performs her complex emotional discomfort in conflicting constraints, intense contrasts, and profound cravings. She is perpetually too cold or too hot. She likes to wear the same plaid skirt over and over and adds so much layering that she feels a choking sensation. She is put off by, yet defensive about, her own practiced procrastination that masquerades as respectable reading of newspaper after newspaper. She is stalled and aware that she just is not getting to the things she wants to be doing. She is needy and demanding and crying. She is in a desperate state of yearning. She appeals repeatedly for what might be the antidote to her predicament: ‘vanilla’.

8 Lejeune, On Autobiography, 36.

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It is the persona’s apparel that provides this reader with a clue to the encoding of the figure d’altérité. The speaker emphasizes her clothing and idiosyncratic dressing in general. She draws specific attention to her plaid skirt thrice overtly, not to mention coyly, in inviting the “you” to get a close up look at it, simultaneously dismissing the garment as silly:

אִם תִּרְצֶה לְה ִ ַבּיט מ ָ ִקּרוֹב, יֵשׁ לָהּ חֲצ ִ ָאית מְשֻׁבֶּצֶת. ִ היא אוֹהֶבֶת חֲצ ִ ָאית מְשֻׁבֶּצֶת כִּי זֶה עַלִּיז. לְה ִ ַבּיט עָל ֶָיה, אַתָּה תִצְחַק. ַ הכֹּל ְ מגֹח ְָך כָּל כּ ְָך. א ִ ֲפלּוּ ִ היא צוֹחֶקֶת לָזֶה לִפְע ִ ָמים. […] ִ היא ת ִ ָמיד מִתְעַטֶּפֶת בְּמ ֶ ַשּׁהוּ וְנֶחְנֶקֶת, לִפְע ִ ָמים חֲצ ִ ָאית מְשֻׁבֶּצֶת וְעוֹד בְּג ִ ָדים

Garb that is ‘mishubetzet’ is familiar to seasoned readers of classical Jewish texts. In biblical texts the Hebrew word ‘mishubetzet’ refers to a patterned weave, as in ‘inlaid’ with a woven pattern such as squares;9 it also refers to ‘inlaid’ with gold sockets for gems and pearls;10 it can also connote quilted11 in some opinions. The tunic of the high

9 “Meshubatz,” Even-shoshan: ha-milon he-hadash,ha-mahadura ha-meshulevet, 2000 (9 volume edition) Vol. 9, 3130. 10 Exodus 28:4 outlines the garb of the high priest and refers to the tunic as ketonet tashbetz. Rashi explains the tunic as ornamented with indented gold adornments (castons in Old French) in which precious stones and pearls could be inlaid. 11 M. Rosenbaum and A.M. Silberman eds., Pentateuch with Targum Onkelos, Haftaroth, and Rashi’s Commentary: Exodus, transl. M. Rosenbaum and A.M. Silberman (New York: Hebrew Publishing Company, 1935), 28:4, 152. Henceforth: Transl. M. Rosenbaum and A.M. Silberman, Pentateuch.

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priest, for example, was to be adorned in this manner.12 More to the point for this poem is an echo of Psalms 45 that Ravikovitch sounds:

כָּל ְ כּבוּדָּה בַת מֶל ְֶך פְּנִימָה מִמִּשׁ ְ ְבּצוֹת זָהָב ְ לבוּשָׁהּ: לִר ָ ְקמוֹת תּוּבַל לַמֶּל ְֶך ...13

The king’s daughter is all glorious within: her clothing is woven with gold. She shall be brought to the king with embroidered garments […]14

In this case the persona’s patterned garb is not simply a favourite chequered skirt reserved for lounging at home. It is clothing fit for royalty. Ravikovitch uses biblical allusion in this poem to encrypt the speaker as a bat-melekh – a princess. In the mind of the persona, her deceased father has been magnified to monarchy; she is therefore royalty.

There are several poems in Ravikovitch’s early work in which the speaker applies the phenomenon of monarchy to her deceased father and herself. In the following excerpt of ’Eretz mevo ha-shemesh15 [The Land of the Setting Sun] for example, the speaker tells of a mythical land where kings of unparalleled stature resided:

וְעוֹד הֻגַּד לִי: מִקֶּדֶם, בְּאֶרֶץ ְ מבוֹא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ ָ היוּ מַלְכֵי אֶרֶץ אֲשֶׁר ֵ אין ֶשֹׁוה בִּגְאוֹנָם. וָאֹמַר בְּלִבִּי: אִם אַגִּ ַיע אֶל אֶרֶץ ְ מבוֹא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ יֻתַּן לִי כִּסֵּא מֶל ְֶך וְגַם שַׂלְמַת אַרְגָּמָן.16

There were magnificent kings, rulers unequalled in excellence, so I was told, Ruled the land of the setting sun In the days of old.

12 Exodus 28:4. 13 Psalms 45:14-15. 14 Psalms 45:14-15. 15 Ravikovitch, “’Eretz mevo ha-shemesh,” Kol ha-shirim, 25-26. 16 Loc. cit.

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And I said to myself: If I come to the land of the setting sun I shall be given a robe of purple, A throne of gold.17

In pondering her own possible arrival in The Land of the Setting Sun, the speaker relates having been told that she would be welcomed with a throne and a scarlet robe of royalty. In this way she suggests that her father had been among the glorious kings who dwelled there and projects her own royal status. In Portret as well we have begun to see that the persona paints her self-portrait as a princess. The medium she employs as brushstrokes in Portret is intertextuality, which she boosts to new heights.

Ravikovitch is renowned for crafting her poetry with reverberations of Hebrew Scriptures. Here, as in much of her poetry, she goes beyond isolated allusion to multiple allusions to several elements of a single text. She thus raises the literary activity between her poem and the given source to the plane of intertextual engagement.

In the process of tracing the fibres of the poem’s intertextual engagements, this study will consider several fine points which contour the nature and loci of intertextuality. These points will be considered in an effort to promote breadth in recognition of intertexts and intertextuality for enriched readings of the poem. According to some thinkers, the writer and by extension the text is the locus of intertextual authority whether or not readers notice the multiple allusions; according to other thinkers, intertextuality is the domain of readers who exert themselves to facilitate a conversation between perceived intertexts and the source at hand, whether outside texts or cultural icons. They thus enrich their reading. Harry Fox writes: “Intertextuality properly defined is a kind of literary allusion to material which is otherwise hidden from immediate view but whose recovery adds to the richness of the texture of the text.”18

17 Translation partially based on Ravikovitch, “The Land of the Setting Sun,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 57-58. 18 Harry Fox, “Introducing Tosefta: Textual, Intratextual, and Intertextual Studies,” in Introducing Tosefta: Textual, Intratextual, and Intertextual Studies, eds. Harry Fox (LeBeit Yoreh) and Tirzah Meacham (LeBeit Yoreh) (New Jersey: Ktav, 1999) 29. Henceforth: Fox, “Introducing Tosefta.”

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Fox refines a differentiation between allusion and intertextuality projecting the latter as a larger, farther reaching phenomenon. As an example, he classifies the repeated deliberate misquotation of a line of a poem by S. Shalom in the novel Shira by S.Y. Agnon as a phenomenon beyond the expected paraphrase or quotation that fuels allusion. He demonstrates that the content and duality prominent in the whole of S. Shalom’s poem enhance a crucial duality played out repeatedly in the novel.19

Fox’s language reflects the view that intertextuality is a type of literary reference whose scope and influence exceeds that of allusion in that it involves the interplay of a full text outside the one being considered, with the entire transcript of the outside text being taken into account, even though only a portion of it may be quoted. The locus of the intertextuality in this state of affairs is between the two texts. The effect is an exponential and reverberating enrichment of the text at hand.

In the space of intertextuality Ravikovitch frequently writes the equivalent of an operatic score for a duet to be sung back and forth, on several counts, between two or more texts. T. Carmi notes both the intertextual and intralinguistic consequences of this practice, particularly as it pertains to recourse to heritage texts such as the Hebrew bible:

Whether the poet wills it or not, there is often an element of counterpoint in Hebrew poetry. However colloquial the rhythms and even the diction, it is heard by the alert reader against the background of biblical poetry and of an uninterrupted poetic tradition. And some of the finest effects of modern Hebrew poetry still result from the tension between everyday speech and the undertones and overtones of a shared heritage.20

As to Ravikovitch, the opus is sophisticated in its aspect of counterpoint as it gains dynamically from more than a single liaison with the external source to which any given poem multiply alludes. The case of the royal princess of Portret is no exception. Her persona interfaces with additional elements in Psalms 45. The most salient by far, in my

19 Fox, “Introducing Tosefta,” 32-34. 20 T. Carmi, introduction, The Penguin Book of Hebrew Verse (Middlesex, Victoria, New York, and Markham: Penguin, 1981. Paperback edition reprinted 1982) 47-48.

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estimation, is the declaration of the singer of the Psalms in the second verse. Here the chanteuse identifies herself as a skilled scribe whose raison d’être is to chant belles lettres for the king, presumably those she herself pens:

רָחַשׁ לִבִּי דָּבָר טוֹב אֹמֵר אָנִי מַעֲשַׂי לְמֶל ְֶך לְשׁוֹנִי עֵט סוֹפֵר מ ִ ָהיר:21

My heart is astir with gracious words; I relate my verses for the king: I speak my poem to a king; my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.22

The commentator Rabbi David Qimhi, (Radaq 1160-1235, Provence) adopts “my tongue is a pen of a skilled scribe” as a lemma and comments as follows:

לְשׁוֹנִי עֵט סוֹפֵר מ ִ ָהיר, כלומר לשוני מדברת עליו במהירות כמו עט סופר מהיר שכותב בלא עיכוב, כן אומר אני דברים אלה על המלך:23

My tongue is a pen of a skilled scribe, that is to say my tongue speaks of him with speed as a pen of a skilled scribe who writes without hindrance, so say I these words of the king.

The iteration of Radaq is a source of support for the idea that the speaker of Portret longs to get beyond her ‘obstacles’ in order to do what she as a princess should properly do. She wishes to ‘write without obstacle’ and then ‘say’ or sing ‘these words’ before her father the king.

Radaq uses the term ‘ikkuv to connote ‘delay’, ‘obstacle’ or ‘impediment’. Ravikovitch, whose knowledge of Hebrew encompasses familiarity with a range of contextual commentaries as well as homiletic midrash arising from the text, has gleaned the literary influence and the chosen analytic yield of the word. She incorporates it in the plural in her poem:

21 Psalms 45:2. 22 JPS Tanakh, Psalms 45:2. 23 See Radaq on Psalms 45:2.

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ִ היא ֵ אינָהּ עוֹשָׂה מַה שֶּׁהָיְתָה רוֹצָה לַעֲשׂוֹת יֵשׁ לָהּ ִ ע ִ כּוּבים.

She doesn’t do what she’d like to do, she’s got inhibitions.

This is precisely the problem of the persona. She is suffering from a host of ‘delays’, ‘inhibitions’ or ‘obstacles’, among them the paralysis of writer’s block. A Radaqian resolution to the problem would rehabilitate her writing, her chanting and reinstate her status as royal princess-scribe and chanteuse for the king.

As we see, one intertextual fragment of Psalms 45:14 bonds with another in Psalms 45:2, and yet another. The third in this case is a commentary on Psalms 45:2. The progression of the bonding is subtle to detect and its impact is greater than the sum of its component parts. Relative to this concept is Graham Allen’s characterization of numerous attempted definitions of intertextuality. He effects the characterization by borrowing an apt turn of phrase from the American literary critic Harold Bloom: “overdetermined in meaning, and underdetermined in figuration.”24

Such is the case of the figuration of the persona in this poem. In terms of being “underdetermined in figuration” there is a barely visible loop to grasp in the weave of the chequered skirt, nevertheless the eye is drawn toward it repeatedly. Once the eye sees the loop it cannot un-see it, and sets a cognitive sequence of intertextual determination in motion:

This term indeed refers to an operation of the reader’s mind, but it is an obligatory one, necessary to any textual decoding. Intertextuality necessarily complements our experience of textuality. It is the perception that our reading of the text cannot be complete or satisfactory without going through the intertext […]25

24 Harold Bloom is quoted by Graham Allen in: Graham Allen, Intertextuality (London and New York: Routledge, 2000) 119. 25 Michael Riffaterre, “Intertextual Representation: On Mimesis as Interpretive Discourse,” Critical Inquiry 11.1 (1984) 142. Henceforth: Riffaterre, “Intertextual Representation.”

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Riffaterre, whose comments above reveal his position that intertextuality involves a cerebral course of action on the part of the reader, defines intertext as follows:

An intertext is a corpus of texts, textual fragments, or textlike segments of the sociolect that shares a lexicon and, to a lesser extent, a syntax with the text we are reading (directly or indirectly) in the form of synonyms or, even conversely, in the form of antonyms.26

Riffaterre’s definition subtly suggests that the scope of the intertextual process is as wide or as narrow as each reader’s cache of intertexts and breadth of familiarity with relevant sociolect. In turn this idea suggests that even if the locus of intertextuality ripples between two texts, the reader’s cerebral processing in assignation of intertexts is the factor that will determine the depth and treasure of the literary reverberations enriching the text at hand.

Through the identification and consideration of the reverberation of direct and inverse bodies of intertext, the verbal self-portrait is now clearer to this reader. The persona’s garb identifies her through biblical allusion as royalty. Further intertextual elements identify her as a skilled scribe – a royal composer of song. She is therefore intertextually identifiable as a royal composer and chanteuse of belles lettres for royalty, one who suffers from ‘ikkuvim – unnamed delays and issues to which writers refer with dread as ‘writer’s block’.

I return now to extend the process of highlighting intertextuality between Portret and an identified scriptural source: “The king’s daughter is all glorious within …”27 The word penima – literally ‘inward’ or ‘within’ – resonates thematically, if not linguistically in relation to the poem. The term penima relates to the persona’s proclivity to seclude herself indoors and retreat within herself for days at a stretch to read or write. In the context of Portret the persona’s honour and respectability – kevudah – arising from her accomplished writing and her creativity are currently locked within her. She in turn seals herself in. Readers might imagine a fairytale princess locked away from public view

26 Riffaterre, “Intertextual Representation,” 142. 27 Koren Bible, Psalms 45:14-15.

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inside the turret of a castle. Her isolation can be depressing and debilitating until such time as she discovers ways to amuse herself productively28 such as passing through the secret doorways of fairy tales and verdant avenues for ‘wearing out slippers’.29 The persona of Portret is confined within her home, within her clothing, within her body and within her soul until such time as the delays and obstacles can be cleared from the path of her productive creativity.

Portret is the intertextually encrypted verbal self-portrait of a royal princess who is an accomplished poet, aching to produce beautiful verse to chant for her father the king.30 Unfortunately her font of ink is not currently flowing due to the internal malaise she is experiencing.

4.5 Performance of a Self with Malaise: Contrasts, Constraints and Cravings

The internal malaise of the royal poet-scribe refuses to remain inward for long. In the face of her writer’s block, she exhibits the outward manifestations of her angst. She displays it as physical discomfort through intense extremes of body temperature:

ַ בּחֹרֶף קַר לָהּ, קַר לָהּ מַמָּשׁ קַר לָהּ יוֹתֵר מֵאֲשֶׁר לַאֲח ִ ֵרים. ִ היא מִתְלַבֶּשֶׁת ֵ היטֵב וַעֲדַיִן קַר לָהּ. [...]

28 Barukh, ‘Iyyunim be-shirat Ravikovitch, 53-54. Miri Barukh suggests that an aversion to reality confines the persona to the interior of her house, often to her room, where she can then use her imagination to write of an alternative reality. 29 Cixous, Ladder of Writing, 64-65. For full references regarding secret doorways, wearing out shoes, writing poetry and jouissance see Chapter 3, Note 17. 30 As indicated through the source in Psalms 45, this biblical allusion casts the persona as a princess and scribe, the daughter of a king before whom she recites her refined verse. Correspondingly there are indications in the early poems of the oeuvre that Ravikovitch’s persona, deeply affected by her father’s death, tends to preserve the deceased parent in a state of perpetual existence (‘Amud ha- tikhon, Kol ha-shirim,17-18; Taryag mitzvot ve-’ahat, Kol ha-shirim, 21-22) as a larger-than-life figure, akin to a king or messiah (Da‘at le-navon naqel, Kol ha-shirim, 19-20; Matenot melakhim, Kol ha- shirim, 31-32). Miri Barukh, “Nose’ ha-mavet bitefisotav ha-shonot,” ‘Iyyunim be-shirat Ravikovitch, 56-73. Miri Barukh examines the ways in which the persona relates to her father figure and his death very personally in the naïve voice of a young girl, and as a mature woman exploring broader issues of death.

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זֹאת לֹא פַּעַם ִ ראשׁוֹנָה שֶׁקַּר לָהּ. לֹא פַּעַם ִ ראשׁוֹנָה חֹרֶף. בְּעֶצֶם גַּם הַקַּיִץ ֵ אינֶנּוּ נ ִ ָעים.

[…] ַ בּחֹרֶף ִ היא לֹא זָזָה בְּלִי ַ תנּוּר. [...] קָשֶׁה לָהּ ַ בּחֹרֶף וְרַע לָהּ בַּקַּיִץ, [...] זֶה ַ הקֹּר ַ בּחֹרֶף ַ וְהחֹם הַמֻּפְרָז בַּקַּיִץ, אַף פַּעַם לֹא ְ כּמוֹ שֶׁצּ ִ ְר ִ יכים.31

In winter she’s cold, really cold, colder than other people. She bundles up but she’s still cold. [..] It’s not the first time she’s cold. Not the first time it’s winter. In fact, summer isn’t so pleasant either. […] In winter she won’t budge without the heater. […] She has a hard time in the winter, a rough time in the summer, [...] It’s the cold in winter, the exaggerated heat in summer, never what you need.

She acts out the anxiety in the constraints of a choking sensation in her throat:

ִ היא ת ִ ָמיד מִתְעַטֶּפֶת בְּמ ֶ ַשּׁהוּ וְנֶחְנֶקֶת, לִפְע ִ ָמים חֲצ ִ ָאית מְשֻׁבֶּצֶת וְעוֹד בְּג ִ ָדים תּ ְ ִשׁאַל, לָמָּה ִ היא מִתְעַטֶּפֶת כְּשֶׁאֶפְשָׁר לְהֵחָנֵק? הַדְּב ִ ָרים הָאֵלֶּה מְסֻבּ ִ ָכים.

Always bundling up in something or other until she chokes, on occasion a plaid skirt and other clothes. Why bundle up if it makes her choke, you’d ask. These things are complicated.

31 Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137.

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She performs her malaise throughout by means of a pronounced craving for vanilla and repeated appeals for it to be purveyed on demand:

ִ היא רוֹצָה וָנִיל, הַרְבֵּה וָנִיל, תֵּן לָהּ וָנִיל. [...] ִ היא רוֹצָה וָנִיל. [...] ִ היא רוֹצָה וָנִיל. [...] וְדֶר ְֶך אַגַּב, אַל תִּשְׁכַּח, ִ היא רוֹצָה וָנִיל, עַכְשָׁו ִ היא א ִ ֲפלּוּ בּוֹכָה. תֵּן לָהּ וָנִיל.32

She wants vanilla, lots of vanilla, give her vanilla.

[…] She wants vanilla.

[…] And by the way, don’t you forget, she wants vanilla. Now she’s even crying. Give her vanilla.

She is overwhelmed and acting out her desperation to fill an inner void. Chocolate will not do. Chips will not suffice. Forget the ‘Araq liqueur. She wants vanilla. Readers are aware that, at surface level, vanilla might not do either. The persona is harbouring a cavernous internal void that requires intense emotional attention, not calories.

This awareness, brought on by the speaker’s temperature contrasts, constricted throat, writing constraints and craving for flavour leads to a deeper examination of the poem’s renowned motif of ‘vanilla’. It will be approached through the lens of écriture féminine in

32 Loc. cit.

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order to identify the natural resource sought by the speaker for relief for her lovelorn self. The result is a contribution to the body of research on the poem in the form of a new interpretation of ‘vanilla’ as substance of sustenance at a juncture of eros and creative vitality.

4.6 Vanilla Unveiled

(i) The ‘White Ink’ of Écriture Féminine

Literary scholars have suggested an assortment of interpretations for this powerfully- craved substance. Its identification is imperative for a poem in which ‘vanilla’ figures as a crucial symbol in all four Hebrew stanzas and whose structure it significantly informs.

The first and last stanzas of Portret bear two parallels. One is a casual sounding statement made by the speaker in focalization of her entity as “she”: “She wants vanilla.” In the first stanza the assertion is qualified with quantity: “lots of vanilla”; in the final stanza, it is introduced with two unconvincingly off-hand expressions: “And by the way” coupled with “and don’t you forget …” The second commonality is that both the first and last stanzas end with a demand whose tone and form counteract the feigned nonchalance: “Give her vanilla.” It probably required great self-control on the part of the poet to refrain from concluding these stanzas with exclamation marks. The urgency seeps through despite the attempt at restraint.

The middle two stanzas also end in the casual-sounding declaration, “She wants vanilla.” The repetition causes its content to escalate from a casual announcement to a more urgent alert.

Among the academics who propose to decode ‘vanilla’ is Juliette Hassine. She identifies it botanically as Lythrum Salicaria, a plant she reports as hermaphroditic.33 She underscores the botanical context by linking it to the mention of a mimosa in the

33 Hassine, Shira u-mitos, 114. It is unclear why Hassine departed from the vanilla known botanically as Vanilla planifolia of the climbing orchid family (C.T. Onions, ed. Oxford Universal Dictionary, third ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1955, 2334). The orchid family is gynandrous in structure (Oxford Universal Dictionary, 1381, 848), and yield a sweet nectar and fragrance (Oxford Universal Dictionary, 2334), making them a suitable object of the craving in the poem and, I would suggest, for Hassine’s thesis.

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fourth stanza. It too is a plant of hermaphroditic standing. As such neither is susceptible to binary dialectics, among them masculine-feminine tensions, from which Hassine asserts the persona wishes to be free.34 ‘Vanilla’ in this line of thinking is a wholly self- sufficient organism. Taken orally it is bound to assuage the persona’s needs and tensions.

Ayelet Lesly attends to the flavour of vanilla as a euphemism for eros.35 She points out its symbolism in Shunra, the first of a pair of poems carrying sexual currents and involving a character who bears an Aramaic feline name.36 In the first poem, well- travelled, cosmopolitan Shunra is compared visually to a pink and white vanilla confection. She is found beguiling by an unidentified observer:

שׁוּנְרָה הָיְתָה לְבָנָה וּוְרֻדָּה ְ כּעוּגַת מַאֲכָל; […] ִ היא נִגְּשָׁה ל ַ ַחלּוֹן ִ וּמ ֶ ישׁהוּ חִכָּה לָהּ. הוּא קָרָא מִכְתָּב אֲבָל ִ היא בִּלְבְּלָה אֶת דּ ְ ַעתּוֹ. אָז הִנִּיחוֹ וְנִשֵּׁק אוֹתָהּ ְ כּעוּגַת מַאֲכָל. זֶה הָיָה ַ בּבֹּקֶר בְּשָׁעָה ְמאֻחֶרֶת וְהוּא מִצְמֵץ בִּשְׂפ ָ ָתיו כָּל ַ היּוֹם, כָּל ַ היּוֹם. שׁוּנְרָה הִנִּיחָה מ ִ ַפּית עַל בִּר ֶ ְכּ ָיה וְהָיְתָה מְלַקֶּקֶת עוּגַת וָנִיל.37

Shunra was pink and white as a delectable cake. […] She drew near the window where someone awaited her. He was reading a letter but she addled his brain. He set down the letter and kissed her like a delectable cake. All this came to pass rather late in the morning. And he kept smacking his lips all day long. Shunra spread a napkin on her lap and licked away at vanilla cake.38

34 Hassine, Shira u-mitos, 113-115. Hassine’s book explores, inter alia, the Apollonian and Dionysian aspects of Ravikovitch’s poetry. She contends that the speaker of the poems wishes to break free of cut and dried dialectics inherent in confining binary relations such as masculine-feminine, hot-cold, summer-winter and so forth. Hassine positions the attainment of the scent of ‘vanilla’ as a symbolic attempt to overcome the tensions that such binaries can entail. 35 Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros,” 116. 36 Ravikovitch, “Shunra” and “Shunra Bet,” Kol ha-shirim, 111 and 112. 37 Ravikovitch, “Shunra,” Kol ha-shirim, 111. 38 Ravikovitch, “Shunra,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 107.

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The admirer relates orally to Shunra as though she were an enticing vanilla petit four – to offer a facsimile of the linguistic register of the poem. A late morning rendezvous leaves each lapping up lingering ‘vanilla’ the rest of the day. We can see an intertextual connection between Shunra’s activities following her rendezvous and those of the woman described in Proverbs 30:20: “[…] the way of an adulterous woman: she eats, and wipes her mouth and says, ‘I have done nothing wrong.’”39

Lesly expands asserting that Shunra is not fulfilled erotically during this encounter, hence the character’s derivation of comfort and self-gratification expressed through the symbolic oral intake of ‘vanilla’.40 What unites all attempts to decode this motif is the certainty that ‘vanilla’ is a symbolic substance.

Viewed through the lens of écriture féminine, ‘vanilla’ is an innovative motif on the part of Ravikovitch’s speaker. The persona of Ravikovitch’s pen experiences profound cravings for the desirable distillate. She yearns for this elixir to flow as freely as the ‘white ink’ which Hélène Cixous associates with mother’s milk: “a / woman is never far from “mother” […] There is always within her at least a little of that good mother’s milk. She writes in white ink.”41

In the context of writing in ‘white ink’, Cixous writes of ‘mother’ metaphorically as the catalyst for language as follows:

the equivoice that affects you, fills your breast with an urge to come to language and launches / your force; the rhythm that laughs you; […] makes all metaphors possible and / desirable […] that part of you that leaves a space between yourself and urges you to inscribe in language your woman’s style.42

39 Koren Bible, Proverbs 30:20. 40 Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros,” 116. 41 Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 280. 42 Loc. cit.

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Concisely, Ravikovitch’s persona craves the ‘vanilla’ of creative inspirational energy to launch the polished language of her poetry writing and to inscribe her unique self. Vanilla is the ‘white ink’ of écriture féminine.

(ii) The Dual Stream of Life-conferring ‘White Ink’

In looking at Portret in the framework of parable and as a variation of an identified pastime of disguises and masquerading commencing in ancient days, Mordecai Shalev makes inroads in identifying the persona’s vanilla craving. He does so through an analysis of the speaker’s purpose in drawing attention to her clothing. Shalev first analyzed this poem in a newspaper article in the 1960s.43 He designates the speaker’s invitation to her listener to ‘zoom in’ for a close-up of her laughable plaid skirt as unabashedly sexual.44 It is a declaration of the persona’s urgent need for eros, sexually defined. To his mind she is practically pointing a stage-direction arrow inward and upward from her hem. Shalev thus offers confirmation of the speaker’s need for vanilla as her impulse for eros.

Shalev likens the speaker’s dressing-up to the deliberate costuming on the part of biblical Tamar in order to draw the sexual attentions of her father-in-law Judah.45 He likens the speaker’s choice to remain secluded in the homestead to that of Tamar as she engineers a scenario to address a missed opportunity: she had been expecting a levirate marriage to a young son of Judah, with all of the attendant legal and material rights, recognition and support. Shalev likens the speaker’s need for eros to Tamar’s need, in the circumstances, for Judah’s seed.

In addition to acknowledging the vanilla substance as semen, Shalev, like Cixous, congruently links vanilla to mother’s milk but with a difference of emphasis. Whereas Cixous accentuates the nuances of mother’s milk as catalyst for each woman’s unique

43 Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” Ha-’aretz: tarbut ve-sifrut, 2.4.69. and 13.6.69. 44 Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” [Part 6]. 45 Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” [Part 5].

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language of self-expression, Shalev underscores the oral erotic facets of the vanilla craving:

Vanilla is the legal heir to two basic oral substances: the classic oral substance is [mother’s] milk. Vanilla represents the milk with which it is for the most part tied […] In a more mature feminine understanding, however, which remains connected […] with regressive tendencies to the oral traces of love[making], vanilla is semen whose intake is conceived of as suckling in the overall oral view of love.46

In building upon the concepts of Cixous and Shalev, I would add that both mother’s milk and semen may be construed as streams of life-conferring white ink. Ravikovitch’s speaker craves this life-giving profusion as substance of sustenance to fuel both her erotic sense of self and to enrich the fertile creativity of her poetry writing. Either or both would assuage her existential malaise and revive her innovative resources. Either or both would shatter the fetters of the writer’s block that plagues the persona in Portret. Unveiling vanilla thus reveals the speaker’s personal version of ‘sweet-delicacies and apples’ for both erotic and creative vitality.

The motif of vanilla in the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch is emblematic of the persona’s inscription of her voice, “her self and her ‘body’ in its abundance and multiplicity.”47 In considering the prismatic wealth and diversity that characterizes feminine writing, Cixous is struck by “the infinite richness of […] individual constitutions”, and remarks that “Women’s imaginary is inexhaustible, like music, painting, writing: their stream of phantasms is incredible.”48 The dual stream of life-conferring white ink, among Ravikovitch’s phantasms, is an extraordinary exemplar.

I note that the dual titration inherent in the persona’s craving of vanilla is a clue to a larger pattern in the poetry: that is, beyond Portret there exists a critical nexus of the functions of eros and artistry for the persona. As we shall see the overlap is borne out in the broader context of the oeuvre and developed in portraits of the persona’s throat.

46 Shalev, “Meshoreret meqonenet,” [Segment 6]. 47 Calarco and Atterton, “Hélène Cixous,” 274-275. 48 Cixous, “The Laugh of the Medusa,” 276.

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4.7 Natural Resources of a Lovelorn Poet-persona

(i) Eros and the Writing Process

In the wake of the vanilla craved this segment of the thesis considers two natural, personal resources upon which the speaker draws in order to contend with her lovelorn self. One is eros, sexually defined. Her artistry in poetic composition is another. The unique nature of the persona’s experience of eros has been generally recognized as involving descent and an intoxication of senses.49 I shall sharpen the focus of that general observation with some rather specific details unique to the persona’s erotic episodes. I also note that the persona identifies her familiar entrée into the poetry writing process similarly: it too is accompanied by a heightening of sensory perception and a sensation of descent.

The discernment of parallel features of the two processes – sensory intoxication and a trend of vertical descent, as well as the detection of an equivalency in their function as resources, permits me to add an element to the understanding of the persona’s construction of self. Just as the persona draws on eros to tend to her lovelorn being, so she depends on immersion in her artistic writing process to tend to her general existential malaise which is due, in the first place, to her lifelong experience of love in all the wrong proportions. The contours of the concept being advanced are outlined below with germane excerpts from the poetic corpus.

(ii) Descent into Eros and Intoxication of Senses

In broad brushstrokes Ravikovitch’s poems conveying the experience of eros carry both direct and indirect expressions of love and desire as well as a steady reliance on descriptions of nature, natural motifs, and their colours to express erotic passion and longing. These include streams of water and light as well as the speaker’s urge to envelop herself in their flow. The predominant palette bears yellow, green and blue and discloses an enchantment with gold in a variety of transformative states. The motifs of

49 Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros,” 112.

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eros include birds and flight, lithe felines and an abundance of flora ranging from treetops and bushes to seaweed and water lilies.

Many of the persona’s experiences of eros are communicated as a sensation of sinking into a cloud or descent in watery depths.50 To focus the general impression I shall refine it with specific details that are unique to these occurrences for the persona. A number of the more transparent expressions of eros involve sinking comfortably, descending fully- cushioned, or settling into a body of water, water vapour or other accommodating organic surface or matter; the experience is often accompanied with an expression of insouciant sensation that spreads throughout the body’s limbs and organs as ‘ednat ’eivarim or hedvat ’eivarim – ‘gentle, youthful, joyful bodily pleasure’ – in a word, jouissance.51 The following excerpts of four separate poems serve as examples:

50 In some contexts, sinking into watery depths suggests a return to the amniotic fluid of the womb (Sigmund Freud, “Representation by Symbols in Dreams,” The Interpretation of Dreams, James Strachey trans., Toronto, New York, London and Auckland, 1976, Vol. 4, 524-527) or an expression of perdition (Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros,” 112-113). This chapter of the thesis, however, takes the following direction. It proceeds to show that in the work of Dahlia Ravikovitch, settling into water, water vapour, or other organic matter is a function of a particular sensory experience that accompanies the poet’s experience of eros: both poetic creativity and sexual jouissance. For her, the factors of vertical descent and an intoxication of senses presage each. For her, each is a full-body experience. For her, each is essential to her poetry. I see these as expressions of volition, rather than perdition, on the part of the poet. By contrat, Chapter Five shows the analysis of a poem that pictures shipwreck on the high seas as a motif of perdition. 51 It is nearly impossible to hear the term ‘ednat ’eivarim without hearing the reverberations of ‘edna, a hapax legomenon in Genesis 18:12. After hearing the announcement of one of the three divine messengers regarding the impending birth of offspring to herself and Abraham, Sarah asks: אַחֲרֵי ְ בלֹתִי הָיְתָה לִּי עֶדְנָה? After withering, shall I be rejuvenated? The word ‘edna resonates further in Genesis Rabba (Parasha 48:12 in Albeck, Genesis Rabba, Vol. 2, 494) where the rejuvenation is associated literally with an extraordinary return of menses for Sarah, and figuratively with God’s adornment of beloved-Jerusalem with finery – ‘the most precious of all jewels’. The latter extends the metaphor set out in Ezekiel depicting God’s nurturance of foundling- Jerusalem and the subsequent flowering of their love, as Jerusalem comes of age: אחרי בלתי היתה לי עדנה אמרה האשה כל זמן שהיא ילדה יש לה תכשיטין ואני אחרי בלתי היתה לי עדנה. תכשיטין היך דאת אמר ואעדך עדי, האשה כל זמן שהיא ילדה יש לה ווסתות ואני אחרי בלותי היתה לי עדנה עידנין. ‘After withering, shall I be rejuvenated?’ She said, All the while a woman is a youth, she has ‘jewels’ and as for myself, after withering shall I be rejuvenated? ‘Jewels’ as it is said, ‘I shall adorn you with a jewel’ (Ezekiel 16:1). All the while a woman is a youth, she has menstral cycles, and as for myself, after withering, I shall have ‘the jewel of all jewels’.

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One is an excerpt of She‘on ha-mayim [The Roar of the Waters]

אֲנִי שָׁק ְַעתִּי בְּעָנָן שֶׁל נֹעַם, אֲנִי שָׁקַעְתִּי אֲנִי נְמוּגוֹתִי.52

I sank in a cloud of tenderness, I sank, I dissolved.53

A second is an excerpt of Mahlon ve-khilyon:

ַ מהוּ הַדָּבָר הַמֻּפְלָא הַזֶּה? […] אִם יֹאחַז בִּי הַדָּבָר הַמֻּפְלָא הַזֶּה, ֵ בּין שִׁבְעָה ִ יַמּים אֲנִי נָפוֹץ, עֶדְנַת ֵ איב ִ ָרים עַל בִּצְעֵי הַמַּיִם צ ִ ָפים ל ָ ַמּקוֹם הַמֻּפְלָא ַ ההוּא.54

What is this marvelous matter? […]

If this marvelous matter takes hold of me, I’ll be dispersed among the seven seas, Pleasure of limbs upon the standing waters Floating to the place of that marvelousness.

The expression ‘ednat ’eivarim signals jouissance or the speaker of the poem. She values its experience as ‘the most precious of jewels’. 52 Ravikovitch, “She‘on ha-mayim,” [“The Roar of the Waters,”] Kol ha-shirim, 89. 53 Ravikovitch, “The Roar of the Waters,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 95. 54 Ravikovitch, “Mahlon ve-khilyon,” Kol ha-shirim, 80. The names in this title, not mentioned elsewhere in the poem, are those of the two sons of Naomi and Elimelekh of the biblical Scroll of Ruth. During a time of famine in the land of Canaan the family left for Moab in search of produce. There both sons perished as did their father. The name ‘Mahlon’ is derived from a verb root meaning ‘to take ill’. It can be connected to the speaker’s perpetual feelings of lovesickness. The name ‘Kilyon’ is derived from a verb root meaning ‘to finish’, in a complete and final sense. It can be connected to the speaker’s sensation of dissolving entirely when her resources are entirely ‘finished’ or ‘spent’ at the height of love. Romance languages such as French refer to this sensation as petit-mort conveying ultimate consummation in a death-like swoon. These literary associations serve as reminders that the speaker of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poetry continually sings counterpoint with a vocal female lover of the Song of Songs in matters of the heart. The translation Song of Songs 2:5 in JPS Tanakh captures the essence of their common bond with the following turn of phrase: “for I am faint with love.”

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A third is an excerpt of an untitled poem referred to as ’Isha qetana [A Petite Woman]:

אִשָׁה קְטַנָּה עָשְׂתָה לָהּ לְעֶרֶשׂ אֶת ַ כּדוּר ָ האָרֶץ ה ַ ַכּדּוּר הַגָדוֹל. [...] יָדַי ְ צוֹמחוֹת כִּפְר ִ ָחים מִן ָ האָרֶץ, וְעַל פְּנֵי ה ַ ַכּדּוּר הֶעָצוּם הַזֶּה ָ בּאָה חֶדְוָה בְּכָל אֲבָרָי. [...] כִּי אִשָׁה קְטַנָּה נָחָה עַל גַּבּוֹ.55

A petite woman made the world her bower the grand globe. […] My arms blossom like flowers from the earth, And upon this vast globe’s surface Joy surges into all my limbs.

[…] For a petite woman rests on its surface.

A fourth is an excerpt of Hishtadlut nosefet [Another Attempt]:

לוּ אֶפְשָׁר לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך לְכָל ה ָ ַשּׁנִים ֵ א ְיך אֶפְשָׁר לְה ִ ַשּׂיג ְאוֹתך מִכָּל הַשָּׁנִים, ֵ א ְיך אֶפְשָׁר [...] כְּשֵׁם שֶׁמְּד ִ ַמּים עֲנָנִים ִ כּ ַיצוּע שׁוֹשַׁנֵּי עֲנָנִים כְּי ַָצוּע לַגּוּף,56

If I could have you forever How could I get you from eternity, How is it possible […] Just like imagining clouds as bedding Cloud-lilies as bedding for the body

55 Ravikovitch, “[’Isha qetana],” Kol ha-shirim, 45. 56 Ravikovitch, “Hishtadlut nosefet,” Kol ha-shirim, 83.

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In Chapter Three it was likewise seen that a similar idiom was used to convey the powerful attraction felt by the golden apple for her beloved with every limb, with every organ, throughout her entire body or being – be-khol ’avarav:

ַ תּ ַפּוּח זָהָב אָהַב [...] בְּכָל אֲב ָ ָריו.57

A golden apple Loved […] Body and soul.

The excerpts above illustrate that in addition to the sensation of sinking or descent into water or a bed of cloud in experiencing jouissance, the persona speaks rhetorically of ‘marvelous matter’. It is organic, perhaps primordial matter which she imagines taking hold of her and into whose moist environs she would nestle and dissolve into pleasurable oblivion, as in Makhlon ve-khilyon. In a similar context she projects an organic union of one of her figures of alterity with the earth, as in ’Isha qetana: she rests on the earth’s outer layer as her bower, settling into the cradling natural divan so integrally that the earth’s grasses enwrap her and grow from her body. Her own hands blossom forth as flowers from the earth. This detail doubles as an expression of erotic delight felt throughout her body, even in her extremities. The excerpts convey that the persona’s pleasure spreads to sensations of ’avarim – literally, limbs and organs; “completely.” We infer from these excerpts that the speaker’s enjoyment is a full-body experience.

Lesly asserts that the persona’s eros reaches its peak amid expressions conveying sensory intoxication or disorientation.58 To focus agreement with that assertion with

57 Ravikovitch, “’Ahavat tapuah ha-zahav,” Kol ha-shirim, 15-16. 58 Lesly, “Meshorerot ‘ivriyot noge‘ot ba-’eros,” 112. Lesly demonstrates her point with excerpts in which she infers drowning and perdition. While I would agree with Lesly on the matter of eros indicated in the poetry through an intoxication of senses, I do not share Lesly’s confirmation of Lily Ratok’s view (Loc. cit.) that the disorientation and descents are metaphors for drowning, perdition and disappearance. I hold that the emphasis regarding intoxicated senses and vertical descent is on the experience of receptive cushioning and supported repose in, or on, organic matter, as illustrated above. Objectively

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increased specificity I would stipulate that these expressions of eros communicate descent or settling into the receptive cushioning of water, cloud or pliant organic fascia. As well these expressions of heightened sensory perception convey a full-body experience. Further I detect that the persona experiences similarly intensified sensory acuity, likewise to the point of sensory intoxication or disorientation, when descending fully into her writing process. This proposal unfolds below.

(iii) Descent into the Writing Process and Intoxication of Senses

A poem which clearly shows both descent and intensification of sensory perception to the point of sensory intoxication, is called ’Atta bevadai zokher [Surely You Remember]:

these luxuriant experiences contrast with lamentably rougher day to day experiences for the persona; subjectively these present as the persona’s communication of jouissance.

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ְ לאַט ְ לאַט נִמ ָ ְחקוֹת הַדְּמֻיּוֹת ה ֵ ַדּהוֹת, אַחַר כּ ְָך נִמְחָקיִם הַפְּג ִ ָמים. אַחַר כּ ְָך ָ בּאָה שֶׁמֶשׁ בַּחֲצוֹת הַלַּיְלָה גַּם אֶת הַפְּר ִָחים הַכּ ִ ֵהים אַתָּה זוֹכֵר. ה ָָיִית רוֹצֶה ל ְ ִהיוֹת מֵת אוֹ חַי אוֹ ִ מ ֶ ישׁהוּ אַחֵר. אוּלַי יֵשׁ אֶרֶץ אַחַת ֶ שׁאַתָּה אוֹהֵב. אוּלַי יֵשׁ מִלָּה אַחַת. אַתָּה בְּו ַ ַדּאי זוֹכֵר. טִפֵּשׁ מִי שֶׁמּ ַַנִּיח לַשֶּׁמֶשׁ ל ְ ִשׁ ַקֹע כּ ְ ִרצוֹנָהּ. ִ היא תָמִיד מַק ִ ְדּימָה לִנְדֹּד מַעֲרָבָה אֶל הָאִיִּים. אֵל ֶָיך יָבוֹאוּ חַמָּה וּלְבָנָה, קַיִץ וָחֹרֶף. ָ אוֹצרוֹת ֵ אין-סוֹפִיִּים.59

Surely You Remember

After they all go home I remain alone with the poems, some of my own, some of others. Poems that others have written I love best of all. I remain in the silence and the choking in my throat relaxes. I remain. Sometimes I wish they would all go home. Writing poems may be a pleasant thing to do. You sit in your room and the walls grow taller. Colors grow bolder. A blue kerchief turns into the depth of a well. You wish everyone would leave. You don’t know what’s the matter with you. Perhaps you’ll think of a thing or two. Then it will all pass, and you’ll be pure crystal. And then love.

Narcissus was so much in love with himself. Only a fool doesn’t see that he loved the river too. You sit alone. Your heart pains you, but it’s not going to break. The faded dramatis personae are erased one by one. Then the flaws are erased. Then a sun sets at midnight. You remember the dark flowers too. You wish you were dead or alive or anyone else.

59 Ravikovitch, “’’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116.

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Isn’t there even one country you love? Isn’t there even one word? Surely you remember. Only a fool lets the sun set at its own pleasure. It always sets off too early westward for the islands. Sun and moon, winter and summer will come to you. Infinite treasure.60

In this poem the persona derives solace following ‘too much togetherness’ with people by recalling the private comfort within her reach. The solace stems from familiarity and ease with poetry in general – her own and that of other poets. Comfort also stems from ease with her personal writing process, particularly the respite it affords her from emotional discomfort. She recounts, step by step, the familiar incremental stages she is used to experiencing en route to commencing her writing, just as a person dependent on a substance can relate the recognizable integers of the relief, or the spreading ‘high’ when the substance takes effect in the body.

The speaker’s heightened sensory awareness is apparent in her perception of the expansion of inanimate elements of her milieu as well as the intensification of colours:

אַתָּה יוֹשֵׁב בַּחֶדֶר וְכָל ה ִ ַקּירוֹת מִתְגַּבּ ִ ְהים. הַצְּב ִ ָעים נַע ִ ֲשׂים עַזִּ ים יוֹתֵר. מִטְפַּחַת כְּחֻלָּה הוֹפֶכֶת ְ לעֹמֶק בְּאֵר.61

You sit in your room and the walls grow taller. Colors grow bolder. A blue kerchief turns into the-depth-of-a-well.

Walls grow taller and pigment grows bolder. The persona can discern a blue so blue that it metaphorically becomes visible as the unnamable tint of a specific spatial hue: the water-colour-blue she calls “the-depth-of-a-well.”

In addition to detecting heightened sensory perception in the context of the persona’s writing process, this study notes an additional similarity to her experience of eros: the impression of descent. The speaker presents a visual progression from the upper edges

60 Ravikovitch, “Surely You Remember,” The Collected Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch, 111. 61 Ravikovitch, “’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116.

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of the walls downward to the level of subterranean waters. Only after this mandatory vertical sweep from heights to depths does the persona gain enough clarity to settle down into writing the way she wishes:

אַחַר כּ ְָך ַ הכֹּל יַעֲבֹר וְתִהְיֶה ג ִ ָבישׁ ָ טהוֹר. אַחַר כּ ְָך אַהֲבָה.62

Then it will all pass, and you’ll be pure crystal. And then love.

Becoming pure crystal exemplifies fully entering the state of ‘conscious consciousness’ to which the persona aspires in order to write bios. She has the ability in this state to discern love and to write love, both of which often elude her. The love mentioned in the poem is not qualified in any manner: neither too much nor too little. For once it is unconditional love.

As outlined in Chapter Two the term bios is used in this study in the way that James Olney offers as “both the course of a life seen as a process, rather than a stable entity, and the unique psychic configuration that is this life and no other.”63 The term ‘consciousness’ is referred to in the context that James Olney proposes as “transcendent reality […] committed to a vertical thrust from consciousness down into the unconscious […]” 64

In writing bios the poet usually works to subtract the exertion of overt shaping techniques for the construction of self; instead the persona seeks to perform her self entirely in the moment, allowing the written performance to pass through, or be refracted through, the multiple prisms of pure crystal en route to becoming poems on paper. Such writing requires a ‘transcendent reality’ with a vertical descent into the unconscious, as Olney conveys. It is a concept similar to the one that Hélène Cixous advances as central to the writing process of écriture féminine. As previously mentioned, for fruitful composition Cixous emphasizes the imperative descent to the

62 Ravikovitch, “’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116. 63 Olney, Memory/Bios, 241. 64 Olney, Memory/Bios 239.

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nether realms deep within and asserts, “this is where the treasure of writing lies, where it is formed, where it has stayed since the beginning of creation: down below.”65

(iv) Extension of Intoxicated Senses in the Writing of Bios: Release from Dimensions of Time, Space and Order and Ability to Traverse Natural Boundaries

It is evident that both the experience of eros and the experience of settling fully into the writing process, especially the writing of bios, involve a subconscious and intuitive descent on the part of the poet-persona. The descent is sensed physically, psychically and emotionally. She knows the sensation. She yearns for it. She summons it. Compatibly both the experience of eros and the commencement of the writing process, especially the performance of bios through poetry, are presaged by an intensification of sensory perception to the point of intoxication of senses.

In ’Atta bevadai zokher additional discombobulation is noted beyond the initial intensification of sensory perception. When the persona becomes ‘pure crystal’ and the writing of bios begins, there’s an outright confoundment of dimensions of time and space. Nothing conforms to linearity or cyclical nature in time or space or language. The sun tarries in the firmament until midnight: “Then a sun / sets at midnight.”66 Spatially and linguistically there is a simplicity and openness that hints of a return to an era prior to that of hubris associated with the building of the Tower of Babel when “the whole earth was of one language and of few words.”67 Humble and simple expressions of the hypothetical, suitable for that era past, precede the simplicity and openness of the expression of surety: “Maybe there’s a certain land that you like. Maybe there’s a single word. Surely you remember.”

At the same time as the senses are heightened, temporal markers are blurred in a reversal of the biblical post-diluvian promise to biblical Noah regarding orderly and

65 Cixous, Ladder of Writing, 118. 66 While sunset at midnight is a possibility in certain countries such as Norway, it is not known to occur in the poet’s Levantine surroundings. 67 Transl. M. Rosenbaum and A.M. Silberman, Pentateuch: Genesis 11:1.

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constant seasonal cycles.68 In this poem the speaker conflates seasonal markers with celestial bodies visible in the sky to mark day and night: “You will have sun, moon, summer and winter.” More precisely there is relief and release from conventional linear, chronological progression and from the dictates of existential continuity that the persona applies in displacing syntactic determinacy and conventional states of being: “You wish you were dead or alive or anyone else.” Following two phrases in apposition ending in “dead” and “alive”,69 the third varies the part of speech and takes readers by surprise.

The poet-persona applies the same poetic of syntactic undermining in additional instances of writing bios. It is apparent, for example in Kishufim - Enchantment:70

כישופים ַ היּוֹם אֲנִי גִבְעָה, מָחָר אֲנִי יָם. כָּל יוֹם אֲנִי תוֹעָה כִּבְאֵר שֶׁל מִרְיָם, [...] ַ היּוֹם אֲנִי שׁ ְ ַבּלוּל מָחָר אֲנִי עֵץ רָם כַּתָּמָר. א ְ ֶתמוֹל הָיִיתִי ְכּוּך ַ היּוֹם אֲנִי צְד ִ ָפית. מָחָר אֲנִי מָחָר.71

68 Genesis 8:22. עֹד כָּל יְמֵי ָ האָרֶץ זֶרַע וְק ִ ָציר וְקֹר וָחֹם וְקַיִץ וָחֹרֶף וְיוֹם וָלַיְלָה לֹא ְ יִשׁבֹּתוּ: So long as the earth endures, Seedtime and harvest, Cold and heat, Summer and winter, Day and night Shall not cease. (JPS Tanakh, Genesis 8:22.) 69 The first two phrases end with subjective completions in the form of Hebrew stative verbs; the third ends with a direct object in the form of a noun, surprisingly overturning the etched expectation. 70 Ravikovitch, “Kishufim,” [“Enchantment”] Kol ha-shirim, 96. 71 Loc. cit.

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Enchantment

Today I’m a hill, tomorrow a sea. All day I’m awandering like Miriam’s well. […] Today I’m a snail tomorrow a tree72 proud as a palm.

Yesterday I was a niche today I’m a sea-shell. Tomorrow I’ll be tomorrow.

The entire poem is playful and imaginative, light and hopeful. The speaker expresses enchantment with the natural world. She is sufficiently at ease to suggest that she is feeling existentially comfortable: her ‘white ink’ of écriture féminine is flowing. The speaker sketches elemental self-portraits of herself as a hill, a sea, the midrashic wandering well of biblical Miriam, a snail, a tree and so on. Each visual vignette sets the reader up to expect a subsequent projection of self as an element of the natural world.

In the last line, “Tomorrow I’ll be tomorrow.” the speaker swiftly displaces syntactic determinacy in two ways. She replaces the expected organic object with a temporal marker, projecting her image as ‘tomorrow’. The speaker manufactures a syntactic ‘disconnect’ between the initial use of “tomorrow” as preposition of time in concert with its previous usages in the poem, and its repeated use. This time, “tomorrow” is employed as an unexpected noun as if to say: ‘Tomorrow I’ll be [a] tomorrow.’ The immediate impression is the effect of the unexpected mismatch of the juxtaposed-as- before pairs of ‘Today I’m an “a” and tomorrow I’ll be a “b”’: “Today I’m a seashell. / Tomorrow I’ll be [a] tomorrow.” As stated above, she is hopeful.

Ravikovitch’s persona makes use of syntactic undermining in expressing states of being to which she aspires, as well as in enacting freedom from the temporal and spatial

72 bTa‘anit 9a.

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constraints. This gives her the ability to traverse esoteric boundaries and forces usually considered barriers.73 In the following excerpt she employs a beautiful turn of phrase in aspiring to cross the limens of thought:

אֲנִי רוֹצָה לְהַגִּ ַיע אֶל קְצֵה הַמַּחְשָׁבָה ֶ שׁאַף ֵ ר ִ אשׁיתָהּ מְחַתֶּכֶת כְּס ִ ַכּין.74

I want to arrive at the edge of thought whose very beginning cuts like a knife.

In the following excerpt the speaker projects a hypothetical breach of the invisible barrier between earth and sky, and between mortals and the elements:

וְלוּ הָיָה לִי עֹפֶר מְדַלֵּג עַל הָרָמָה מְקַפֵּץ עַל ה ָ ַגְּבעוֹת- הָיִינוּ נִת ִ ְלים בְּגַגּוֹת הַבּ ִ ָתּים וְהָיִינוּ קוֹשׁ ִ ְרים אֶת כַּנְפֵי ָ הרוּחוֹת עַד שׁ ָ ֶהיוּ מִסְתּ ְַבּכוֹת וּמִסְתּ ְ ַבּכוֹת- ְ כּמוֹ פְּקַעַת שֶׁל ִ חוּטים.75

And were I to have a young hart leaping upon the heights frolicking upon the hills -

We’d hang from the rooftops and we’d bind the wings of the wind until they were tousled and tangled like a jumble of threads.

The excerpt above is cited from a poem laden with the imagery of the Song of Songs. The imagined hart resembles a male lover in the Song of Songs who is pictured “leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills […] like a gazelle or a young hart.”76 Progressing beyond such grand leaping, the persona envisages traversing the

73 In Chapter 6 there is a discussion of ‘Egla ‘arufa, a poem in which Ravikovitch’s speaker goes beyond mere ‘syntactic undermining’ to traverse cultural boundaries. There she employs ‘hermeneutic lag’ to displace contextual determinacy. The technique is discussed in context. 74 Ravikovitch, “Ha-ma‘arav ha-kahol,” [The Blue West,] Kol ha-shirim, 75-76. 75 Ravikovitch, “Shokhra,” [Intoxication,] Kol ha-shirim, 51-52. 76 Koren Bible, Song of Songs 2:8-9.

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zone of earthly gravity together with her wished-for beloved to swing from the rafters and playfully tousle the wings of the wind.

In sum when the persona engages specifically in the writing of bios, distinctive phenomena, beyond the initial descent and portents of intoxication of senses, take place. Whether seen as an extension of intoxicated of senses or as their outright confoundment, these phenomena include a relief and release from the constraints conventionally thought to pose barriers.

The examples above contribute to an understanding of the persona’s choice to engage in self-writing, especially the writing of bios. When writing bios the persona enjoys relief and release from bonds of time, space, order, border and syntax. Self-writing in general connotes non-linear verbal constructions of self as opposed to memoir in the stance of chronological recall. This can be relieving to the writer in and of itself. Beyond that bios connotes a high degree of performativity and allows for a variety of means and breadth to convey the naturally fragmented, decentered self by taking advantage of such leave to write self in the moment. This liberty to perform herself prismatically overlaps by nature with kaleidoscopic enactments of self of écriture féminine. The liberty to perform herself prismatically is balm for the persona’s soul and, as we shall now see, ‘vanilla for her throat.

4.8 Convergence of Eros and Creative Vitality: Portraits of a Throat

Just as the persona draws on eros to tend to her lovelorn being, so she depends on immersion in her writing process to tend to her general existential malaise. The malaise is due, in the first place, to the speaker’s lifelong experience of love in all the wrong proportions. That the persona is conscious and desirous of the potential for eros and productive writing to converge, is borne out in poems across the oeuvre. It is most visibly in portraits of her throat.

The poem ’Atta bevadai zokher, examined, reveals the extent to which the poet-persona derives relief from angst by engaging in her writing. Even her habitually constricted throat eases and love can pass through her crystal clear being:

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אֲנִי נִשְׁאֶרֶת בְּשֶׁקֶט וּמַחֲנַק הַגָּרוֹן מִשְׁתַּחְרֵר. אֲנִי נִשְׁאֶרֶת. [...] אַחַר כּ ְָך ַ הכֹּל יַעֲבֹר וְתִהְיֶה ג ִ ָבישׁ ָ טהוֹר. אַחַר כּ ְָך אַהֲבָה.77

I remain in the silence and the choking in my throat relaxes. I remain. […] Then it will all pass and you’ll be pure crystal. And then love.

Beyond the reported ‘reprieve of throat’ is the speaker’s consciousness that the combination of love and writing sustains her. It is the basis for the repeated confirmation to herself of her survival, doubling as thinly veiled encouragement to carry on: “I remain.”

The motif of the speaker’s constricted throat, occasionally its release, recurs in the contextual milieu of the oeuvre. The environments in which the motif recurs reinforce the concept that the throat’s conditions are related to either her need for eros or creative vigour, or both. She portrays her throat, for example, in Shir hatzot 1970 [Midnight Song 1970]:

וְעוֹד שָׁנָה ָ תּבוֹא וְשׁוּב ְ כּמוֹ תּ ִ ָמיד גְּרוֹנִי ָ חנוּק ֵ מאַהֲבָה.78

Another year will come and again as always my throat will constrict with love.

In the excerpt above which closes the poem, the speaker transparently relates her choked-up gorge to circumstances of love or lack thereof.

77 Ravikovitch, “’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116. 78 Ravikovitch, “Shir hatzot 1970,” Kol ha-shirim, 170.

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In Cinderella ba-mitbah the throat-motif appears twice: once in connection with the stepsisters and once in connection with the persona. Cinderella is presented as not envying her stepsisters who go about with throats outstretched in excessive pride.79 Cinderella, another of the persona’s figures d’altérité, has immeasurable treasure troves of imagination presumably to use some day in writing. She is, however, troubled for now by a lump that burns hot in her throat. It is the manifestation of her malaise that goes hand in hand with the pounding heart of her lovelorn condition and thoughts of ceasing to carry on living and the inability to ply her craft.

הָיְתָה לָהּ פְּקַעַת קְטַנָּה שֶׁל חֹם בַּגָּרוֹן וְה ְ ַלמוּת לֵב עַזָּה, חוֹלָנִית. [...] מוּכָנָה בְּכָל עֵת ל ְ ַחדֹּל לְהִתְקַיֵּם.80

She had a small knot of heat in her throat and fierce heart palpitations, sickly. prepared momentarily to cease to exist.

The speaker paints another graphic portrait of her throat in Simanim [Signs]:

עַכ ָ ְשֹו אֲנִי כּוֹתֶבֶת וּמַפ ִ ְסיקָה, אֶפְשָׁר ל ְ ַחשֹׁב, דַּפֵּי נְיָר ר ִ ַבּים נִת ְ ְקעוּ לִי בִּגְרוֹנִי.81

Now I write, then I stop, you’d think …82 so many slips of paper lodged in my throat.

79 Ravikovitch, “Cinderella ba-mitbah,” [“Cinderella in the Kitchen,”] Kol ha-shirim, 227-228. The turn of phrase that Ravikovitch chooses is reminiscent of the reproach in Isaiah 3:16 for the women of Israel who strut in vanity: גָבְהוּ בְּנוֹת צִיּוֹן וַתֵּלַכְנָה נְטוּיוֹת גָּרוֹן וּמְשַׂקְּרוֹת עֵינָיִם ָ ה ְלוֹך וְטָפֹף תֵּלַכְנָה וּבְרַגְלֵיהֶם תְּעַכַּסְָנה: For the women of Israel go about with outstretched necks, roving eyes, and mincing gait, making a percussive-jingling with [the ankle-bracelets ornamenting] their feet. (Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Loc. cit; explanation added.) 80 Ravikovitch, “Cinderella ba-mitbah,” Kol ha-shirim, 227-228. 81 Ravikovitch, “Simanim,” Kol ha-shirim, 274. 82 The Hebrew expression parallel to “you’d think” suggests an ironic tone as if to say, “You’d think great things were happening, but …” It is as if to say that despite appearances, one should not get the impression that the speaker’s writing is really going well.

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The speaker is engaged in some ‘on-again off-again’ writing and is working at settling down into the writing process. She makes use of the quoted throat-related metaphor to indicate writing attempts halted in progress. As seen whether it is a matter of shattered love or stalled writing, the fragments stick in the speaker’s craw.

The constriction and release of throats in Portret and ’Atta bevadai zokher respectively are mutually linked to both eros and the writing process. To the extent that the choked- up sensation or its release reflects the persona’s malaise or relief relative to eros, to the creative writing process, or both, the proof is in the depiction of her throat. The lovelorn- poet-persona combines the impulse to write bios and the pressing need for both eros and creative vitality in the performance of a lifetime, Portret. The two converge in the essential substance that the speaker craves as a symbolic solution, to soothe the sentient ache.

4.9 Summary

Portret is arguably the centerpiece among the self-portraits of the oeuvre. In an extraordinary performance of bios this poem reveals that the persona is an accomplished writer of royal standing who feels existential malaise that is only held at bay when she is either saturated with eros or immersed in her writing. In this poem the profound yearnings for each coalesce in her craving for ‘vanilla’, the dual stream of life- conferring ‘white ink’. It is accordingly a poem that highlights the convergence of eros with creative vitality, heralding fruitful bouts of écriture féminine on the part of the persona. Their convergence serves as the speaker’s personal store of ‘sweet-delicacies and apples’ for tending to her lovelorn self. The desire for such convergence is borne out across the poetic oeuvre, particularly in verbal portraits of the persona’s throat.

An examination of the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch reveals that the persona craves the kind of creative vitality that can fuel her writing. Eros can function in that capacity for her. Its absence or lack is ‘deadly’ to her writing process which is her raison d’être. As we shall see in Chapter Five a surfeit of eros of the wrong kind presents as the threat of thanatos to the speaker and gives rise to flames.

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Chapter Five Persona on Fire: Portrait of a Shipwreck 5.1 Hitrosheshut – Impoverishment: Background

The previous chapter shows the self-portrait of a figure of royalty and a skilled scribe. The persona is pictured performing bios as a royal chanteuse yearning to write and recite for the king. She is impeded by ‘ikkuvim – hindrances of unspecified inertia bearing a striking resemblance to writer’s block. The speaker expresses her malaise through contrasting maladies, sensations of constraint and profound craving.

In this chapter the persona presents as a raging conflagration and resolves to extinguish the blaze in boundless waters. To do so she seeks to sail away in endless waters as a ship in ruins. In this sense Hitrosheshut is a verbal self-portrait of a shipwreck. It is an image of self that she builds with both biblical and rabbinic Hebrew sources. The speaker tips her hand intertextually to indicate that she is suffering from a surfeit of incendiary love. Accordingly, in Hitrosheshut the persona continues to sing counterpoint with the lovelorn maiden at the heart of the Song of Songs.

This chapter initially unfolds along the lines of a reading of the poem to uncover the classical Jewish sources which ‘dance’ together with it in a well choreographed intertextual ballet. In subsequent spirals the chapter will consider additional details of the self-portrait.

The poem Hitrosheshut was published in 1976 in Tehom kore’, Dahlia Ravikovitch’s fourth major collection of works. Tehom kore’ literally means ‘the deep calls out’ as in Psalms 42:

ְ תּהוֹם אֶל ְ תּהוֹם קוֹרֵא ְ לקוֹל ִ צ ֶ נּוֹר ָיך כָּל מִשְׁבּ ֶ ָר ָיך וְגַלּ ֶָיך עָלַי ע ָ ָברוּ:1

“Deep calls to deep at the noise of your cataracts: all your waves and thy billows sweep over me.”2

1 Psalms 42:8.

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In English translation Ravikovitch’s fourth collection has come to be known as Deep Calleth Unto Deep3 or Deep Calleth.4 Hitrosheshut is included as expected in the 1995 anthology of the poet’s poetry called Kol ha-shirim, and in Me-rov ’ahava (1998). The last is a special collection of poems of love and, I would add, depression printed ‘in conversation’ with photographed works of visual and plastic art by Israeli artists.5 The poem reads as follows:

התרוששות אִם לְה ְ ִתרוֹשֵׁשׁ אֲנִי רוֹצָה ְ כּמוֹ אֶרֶץ חֲרֵבָה אִם לְה ְ ִתרוֹשֵׁשׁ אֲנִי רוֹצָה בְּגַאֲוָה. סִפְרֵי תּוֹרָה מ ִ ַצּ ִ ילים מִן הָאֵשׁ אוֹתִי לֹא. אֲנִי רוֹצָה לְבַקֵּשׁ שֶׁאִם אָמוּת אֶהְיֶה כָּאֳנִיָּה ְ טרוּפָה; מַיִם שׁ ֵ ֶאין לָהֶם סוֹף ַ יְכבּוּ אֶת הַשְּׂרֵפָה.

2 Translation based on Koren Bible, Psalms 42:8. The poet adopted part of the second hemistiche as the title of a 1972 selection of poems: Dahlia Ravikovitch, Kol mishberekha ve-galekha – All Thy Waves and Thy Billows (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1972). Its titular poem is included in Tehom Kore’ as well. 3 Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch translated the title this way in: Ravikovitch, “Deep Calleth Unto Deep,” transl. Bloch and Bloch, The Window, 75. 4 Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld recently translate the title with a literal connotation in: Ravikovitch, “Growing Poor,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 148. 5 Dahlia Ravikovitch, Me-rov ’ahava (Tel Aviv: Yediot Ahronot, Sefer Hemed, and Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1998).

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Impoverishment

If I must be impoverished let me be like a desolate land If I must be impoverished let me do it with pride. Torah scrolls are rescued from fire not I. Let me request that if I die I be like a shipwreck; endless waters will extinguish the blaze. 5.2 Poem Structure: Sense Units and Sound Units

Following the title, to which the chapter will later return, the poem appears in twelve short lines. There are no stanza breaks. This feature calls on readers to relate to the poem as an ongoing sequence or uninterrupted brushstroke; nevertheless, two sets of internal divisions are discernible. One is composed of a set of sense divisions supported by the punctuation. The internal units over which three periods preside are four lines, three lines and five lines in length, respectively; the last unit is subdivided by virtue of a semi-colon into units of three lines and two lines, respectively. The division is represented graphically below:

אִם לְה ְ ִתרוֹשֵׁשׁ אֲנִי רוֹצָה ְ כּמוֹ אֶרֶץ חֲרֵבָה אִם לְה ְ ִתרוֹשֵׁשׁ אֲנִי רוֹצָה בְּגַאֲוָה.

------סִפְרֵי תּוֹרָה מ ִ ַצּ ִ ילים מִן הָאֵשׁ אוֹתִי לֹא.

------אֲנִי רוֹצָה לְבַקֵּשׁ שֶׁאִם אָמוּת אֶהְיֶה כָּאֳנִיָּה ְ טרוּפָה;

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…………………… מַיִם שׁ ֵ ֶאין לָהֶם סוֹף ַ יְכבּוּ אֶת הַשְּׂרֵפָה.

If I must be impoverished let me be like a desolate land If I must be impoverished let me do it with pride.

______

Torah scrolls are rescued from fire not I.

______

Let me request that if I die I be like a shipwreck;

……………………………………..

endless waters will extinguish the blaze.

In this scenario of apportionment the units grow shorter as the poem progresses. The resulting accelerating speed propels readers purposefully onward. The speed establishes a dynamic of urgency and escalating suspense. The syntactically awkward structure of the opening sentence contributes to the suspense that permeates the poem. It begins as a conditional sentence that repeats itself – “If … if …” and concludes with a positive declaration, “let me do it with pride.” The complexity of the structure piques our curiosity. We naturally seek to find out more about the context of this strange resolve. An additional conditional “if” in the ninth line adds to the pervasive urgency.

Parallel to the three uses of “if” are three declarations of intent expressed as “’ani rotza”: “let me be like a desolate land” in the second line; “let me do it with pride” in the fourth; and “Let me request” in the eighth. These too impel readers onward until we reach what at first glance appears to be a rather strange request on the part of the speaker: to be like a shipwreck in the event of her death. The conditional sentence that raises the

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contingency of the speaker’s death loads the suspense factor with the fiery danger introduced in the fifth, sixth and seventh lines.

The sense unit formed of lines 5-7, in which the speaker negatively distinguishes her status from that of Torah scrolls, severs the poem. It sunders all the ‘ifs’ from the speaker’s request to perish as a shipwreck. In other words, this sense unit effects total disjunction of the poem: it calls extra attention to itself as a central focus of the poem, already a focal point by virtue of central structural placement.

A second scenario for the poem’s internal division is invited phonemically. The rhyme scheme suggests three units, each four lines in length. Below is a graphic representation:

אם להתרושש A אני רוצה כמו ארץ חרבה B אם להתרושש A אני רוצה בגאוה. B ------

ספרי תורה C מצילים מן האש A אותי לא. D אני רוצה לבקש A ------

שאם אמות E אהיה כאניה טרופה;B1 6 …………………… מים שאין להם סוף F יכבו את השרפה. B1

Phonemic elision of identical sibilants within the third sentence of the poem –

6 The notation “B1” in the rhyme scheme indicates the similarity of the labial phoneme /fa/ to its counterpart /va/ designated “B”. B and B1 add a trace of approximate assonance.

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le-vaqqesh with she’im, that spans the second and third units of the rhyme scheme, creates an important phonemic lag in the rhythm of the language, akin to a musical retard. The resulting drawn-out phoneme of the sibilant shin7 contributes simultaneously to the phenomenon of delay and to the propulsion that unites the last two sound- governed units of the poem. The delay both sparks curiosity and resonates onomatopoetically with the earlier shin of ’esh – fire. This in turn propels readers onward. The delay also prompts concentration in two ways. It rivets our attention to the poem’s middle section, both for its essential content and disjunctive function: it divides the poem in two. It also readies us for the literary pyrotechnics in store. Their array will become visible as intertextuality in an incendiary conclusion.

From an early reading of the poem we gather the basic premise that the speaker feels pressed to ‘become impoverished’. On an emotional level she is weighing her options for coping with the inevitable figurative ‘bankruptcy’ that will ‘finish her off’ in all dimensions of being. In countenancing her death she would will herself to be ‘a shipwreck’. She concludes with the projection that “boundless waters / will extinguish the blaze.” On the one hand, her assertion is couched in calming and consoling language; on the other, it is fraught with danger and destruction.

The basic content gives rise to many questions. Among them are questions pertaining to the metaphors of: ‘to be impoverished’; ‘to be a shipwreck’ as ’oniya terufa connotes a demolished ship; ‘boundless waters’; and ‘the blaze’. A journey into the classical Jewish sources with which Dahlia Ravikovitch encrypts her poetry proves advantageous for cracking her code of metaphors. This pursuit begins with a look at ships in Hebrew Scriptures. It progresses to shipwreck, then scrolls on fire, then flames and water, and thanatos at the heart of the sea.

7 Agi Mishol, a contemporary Hebrew poet, recalls Dahlia Ravikovitch’s sibilant pronunciation of the letter shin in the context of a reading that Ravikovitch presented during a memorial ceremony to honour her colleague, Yona Wallach and her work. See: Agi Mishol, “Ha-shin ha-shoreqet le-’ahava,” Ha-’aretz: tarbut ve-sifrut, 30.9.05.

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5.3 Impoverishment, Desolate Land and Sailing Away

This verbal self-portrait is laden with images. The opening exhibits unspecified ‘impoverishment’, and a ‘desolate land’; the middle pictures Torah scrolls burning; the end exhibits a ship on fire – a ‘shipwreck’ in ‘endless waters’.

If I must be impoverished let me be like a desolate land […] Let me request that if I die I be like a shipwreck; endless waters will extinguish the blaze.

These initially enigmatic elements are the strongest brushstrokes of this self-portrait and exegetical efforts are required to make sense of their composition and combination. Ravikovitch whose poetry thrives on a biblical base8 turns to the books of Jonah and Proverbs for ship imagery. She relates to a panegyric which concludes the book of Proverbs, known as “A Valourous Woman”. In it a highly industrious figure is compared inter alia to mercantile vessels which fetch choice goods from distant environs:

הָיְתָה כָּאֳנִיּוֹת סוֹחֵר מִמֶּרְחָק תּ ִ ָביא לַחְמָהּ: וַתָּקָם ְ בּעוֹד לַיְלָה וַתִּתֵּן טֶרֶף ל ֵ ְביתָהּ וְחֹק לְנַע ֶ ֲרֹת ָיה: זָמְמָה שָׂדֶה וַתִּקּ ֵ ָחהוּ מִפְּרִי כַפּ ֶָיה נטע נָטְעָה כָּרֶם:9

She is like the merchant ships: she brings her food from afar. She rises also while it is yet night, and gives food to her household, and a portion to her maidens. She considers a field, and buys it: with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard. 10

8 Mikulitzky (“Ha-tashtit ha-miqra’it,”43-63) traces numerous biblical elements underlying Ravikovitch’s wording and phraseology. She points out examples of uses of hapax legomena, distinctive biblical phrases and manipulated biblical morphology and syntax which she terms ‘biblicisms’. 9 Proverbs 31:14-16. Emphasis added. 10 Koren Bible, Proverbs 31:14. Emphasis added.

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Despite the desire of the speaker of Hitrosheshut to be like a ship – ’oniya in Hebrew, commercial import is not her intent. In Hitrosheshut we are faced with an inverted allusion to the energetic figure of the Proverbs text. Whereas the individual in Proverbs is active, productive, given to business acquisition and land development, the speaker of Hitrosheshut is on the verge of complete ‘impoverishment’ – a literal, but not the only possible, rendering of the poem’s title. Accordingly, she is aware that she will be like a ‘desolate land’ – ’eretz hareva.

In line with a literal connotation of the term “impoverishment” there are poems in the corpus which refer directly to financial destitution. They echo the views of Ravikovitch who believed that her country’s government needs to provide much more in the way of financial support and income tax concessions to artists. An example is evident in the candid exclamations of the speaker in the following excerpt of Parnasa [Livelihood; Making a Living]:

לַעֲזָאזֵל ה ִ ַשּׁיר, אֲנִי צ ִ ְריכָה מֵאָה וְעֶשׂ ִ ְרים שֶׁקֶל חָדָשׁ. [...] לְשֵׁם מ ִ ְליצָה אוֹמ ִ ְרים עַל הַיָּם שׁ ֵ ֶאינֶנּוּ נָח. אֲנִי אֶל הַיָּם לֹא מַגִּ יעָה [...] כּי לַעֲזָאזֵל ה ִ ַשּׁיר וְכָל אֲשֶׁר בּוֹ, אֲנִי צ ִ ְריכָה ֵ מאָה וְעֶשׂ ִ ְרים שֶׁקֶל חָדָשׁ בְּח ְ ֶשׁבּוֹן אַחֲרוֹן.11

To hell with the poem, I need 120 New Shekels. […] For the sake of poesy one says of the sea that it never rests. […] I never make it to the sea, […] Because to hell with the poem and all its rhymes. I need 120 New Shekels, that’s the bottom line.12

11 Ravikovitch, “Parnasa,” Kol ha-shirim, 204. 12 Ravikovitch, “Making a Living,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 165.

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The impoverishment of Hitrosheshut comes across, by and large, figuratively as well. As a ‘desolate land’ and a persona emotionally on fire the speaker resembles the biblical description of Jerusalem following the destruction of its first temple (586 B.C.E.). The combination is described in identical morphological terms – hareva and ’esh – desolate and on fire, by Nehemiah:

אוֹמַר אֲלֵהֶם אַתֶּם ִ רֹאים הָרָעָה אֲשֶׁר אֲנ ְ ַחנוּ בָהּ אֲשֶׁר יְרוּשָׁלִַם חֲרֵבָה וּשְׁע ֶ ָר ָיה ְ נִצּתוּ בָאֵשׁ ְ לכוּ וְנִבְנֶה ֶאת חוֹמַת יְרוּשָׁלִַם וְלֹא נִהְיֶה עוֹד חֶרְפָּה:13

Then I said to them, ‘You see our distress, how Jerusalem lies desolate, and its gates go up in flames: come and let us build up Jerusalem’s wall, so that we no longer suffer shame.’14

Ravikovitch, well versed in bible, would have had the combination of hareva and ’esh echoing in her ‘mind’s ear’ to draw upon in composing her poetry.

The persona of Hitrosheshut presents as the opposite of the figure lauded in Proverbs. The latter is depicted at the height of self-possession and the highest compliment to pay her would be to “Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her deeds praise her in the gates.”15 She is surrounded by admiring, supportive family and community whereas the persona of Hitrosheshut is apparently isolated and miserable. One who resembles a ‘desolate land’ and whose gates are metaphorically burning is not in a position to sprout nutritious produce to sustain her own needs, let alone see to the provisions of her spouse, children and retinue of support staff. She is certainly not in the league of the ‘woman of valour’ who has somehow acquired the real estate skills to appraise farmland and the agricultural expertise to plant a flourishing vineyard. The intertextual pas de deux of this poem and Proverbs is deliberately choreographed with its dancers back to back.

13 Nehemiah 2:17. Emphasis added. 14 Translation based on Koren Bible, Nehemiah 2:17. Emphasis added. 15 Koren Bible, Proverbs 31:31.

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A phonemic similarity between the word terufa – ‘torn apart’16 – the descriptor of the ship, yet to be discussed as ’oniya terufa, and teref – the ‘fare’17 that the woman of valour apportions for her assistants, adds an additional touch to the intertextual connection raised. In and of itself, this similarity in sound seems incidental and is not sufficient as a trigger for an intertextual connection. As an additional phonemic touch, it shows Ravikovitch’s finesse with artistic detail. Further examples of Ravikovitch’s flair in this regard will be seen in instances of metathesis and artful handling of verb roots. In due course the poem analysis will spiral around for another examination of the use of the root t.r.f. based on rabbinic literature.

The ship of all biblical ships is, of course, the seafaring vessel of the stowaway, Jonah:

וַיְהִי דְּבַר ה' אֶל יוֹנָה בֶן אֲמִתַּי לֵאמֹר: קוּם ל ְֵך אֶל נִינְוֵה ה ִ ָעיר הַגְּ דוֹלָה וּקְרָא עָל ֶָיה כִּי עָלְתָה רָעָתָם לְפָנָי: וַיָּקָם יוֹנָה ל ְ ִב ַרֹח תַּר ִ ְשׁישָׁה מִלִּפְנֵי ה' וַיֵּרֶד יָפוֹ וַיִּמְצָא אֲנִיָּה ָ בּאָה תַר ִ ְשׁישׁ וַיִּתֵּן שְׂכָרָהּ וַיֵּרֶד בָּהּ לָבוֹא עִמָּהֶם תַּר ִ ְשׁישָׁה מִלִּפְנֵי ה': וַה' ה ִ ֵטיל ַרוּח גְּ דוֹלָה אֶל הַיָּם וַיְהִי סַעַר גָּדוֹל בַּיָּם וְהָאֳנִיָּה חִשְּׁבָה לְהִשָּׁבֵר:18

Now the word of the Lord came to Jonah the son of Amitai, saying, Arise, go to Nineve, that great city, and cry against it; for their wickedness is come up before me. But Jonah rose up to flee to Tarshish, from the presence of the Lord, and went down to Jaffa: and he found a ship going to Tarshish: so he paid the fare of it, and went down into it, to go with them to Tarshish from the presence of the Lord. But the Lord hurled a great wind upon the sea, and there was a mighty tempest in the sea, so that the ship seemed likely to be wrecked.19

Gradually it grows apparent that the poem Hitrosheshut also dances an intertextual pas de deux with the book of Jonah. Thematically, although not fully matched linguistically,

16 The term taruf, terufa often means ‘confused’, ‘mixed together’ or ‘tangled’. In some contexts, like this reference, it means ‘torn apart’. For the latter meaning see: Rashi on BT ’Avoda zara 24b; and “taruf” in: Even-Shoshan: ha-milon he-hadash, 2000 (9 volume edition) Vol. 3, 1127. 17 Literally the term teref means prey. Used metaphorically it means food or fare. See:“teref,” Even- Shoshan: ha-milon he-hadash, 2000 (9 volume edition) Vol. 3, 1136. 18 Jonah 1:1-4. Emphasis added. 19 Translation based on Koren Bible, Jonah 1:1-4. Emphasis added.

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the term for the shipwreck to which the persona ostensibly aspires – ’oniya terufa, and the about to be shipwrecked Tarshish-bound ship of Jonah – ve-ha-’oniya hishva le- hishaver, trigger an intertextual connection. The similarity of the schemes of the two figures to alter their plights adds to the thematic connection. In another instance of engineered phonemic similarity and as an added artistic touch to the intertextual engagement, Ravikovitch employs assonance to best advantage. She sets off a playful connection in and among word constructions built of the letters t.r.sh.: in the name of the city Tarshish – a proper noun; in Jonah’s desire to go Tarshisha – with biblical Hebrew’s characteristic use of the ‘directional hei’; and in the not altogether common reflexive Hebrew infinitive le-hitroshesh – to be impoverished, as well as its gerund hitrosheshut as title of the poem at hand.

Prior to delving into some of the models of escape that figure into Ravikovitch’s poetry, I shall mention that the poem’s specific intertextual engagement with the book of Jonah raises associations with themes of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. The book of Jonah is the prophetic reading that complements the afternoon Torah reading of the Yom Kippur service. The contents of the book raise questions of responsibility to oneself, peers and God, as well as themes of escape, return and of repentance. Gradually we shall see that there are additional Yom Kippur associations that this poem evokes.

5.4 Additional Models of Escape

In terms of a desire to sail away from her lot in life, the persona is known in the oeuvre for wanting to escape and for a desire to arrive somewhere else entirely. Sometimes her ‘Tarshish’ is like her utopian vision of New Zealand:

בִּנְיוּ זִ ילַנְד עַל נְאוֹת דֶּשֶׁא וָמַיִם אֲנ ִ ָשׁים טוֹבֵי לֵב יִפ ְ ְרסוּ לִי מִלַּחְמָם.20

20 Ravikovitch, “Shenei iyyim le-New Zealand,” Kol ha-shirim, 257-258.

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In New Zealand in green pastures, beside still waters, kind-hearted folk will break bread with me.21

The speaker’s vision of New Zealand as paradise is reinforced through allusion to the idyllic imagery of Psalms 23, especially its green pastures mentioned in the poem as ne’ot deshe’ and, by intertextual extension, to its conjured but unmentioned still waters:

בִּנְאוֹת דֶּשֶׁא יַר ִ ְבּיצֵנִי עַל מֵי מְנֻחוֹת יְנַהֲלֵנִי:22

God makes me lie down in verdant places And leads me beside still waters.23

Both topographical images are indirectly reminiscent of the features of the undeniably beautiful, Eden-like landscape of the Babylonian exile, lush and luxuriant between its two rivers, the Tigris and the Euphrates. The speaker’s contiguous reference to breaking bread evokes the blessings surrounding ‘the breaking of bread’; some people preface the weekday birkat ha-mazon following meals with a psalm which directly recalls that landscape:

עַל נַהֲרוֹת בָּבֶל שָׁם יָשׁ ְ ַבנוּ גַּם בּ ִ ָכינוּ בְּזָכ ֵ ְרנוּ אֶת ִ ציּוֹן:24

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept upon remembering Zion.

All told, the persona’s utopia resembles New Zealand which resembles Babylon, land of the Israelite exile. She would like nothing better than to escape the hotbed of her current environment. She would gladly leave behind what she sees as the ‘failed experiment’ of her milieu, its hairsplitting politics, the heartache of killings and throat-ache of shouted demonstrations. She would willingly cross its boundaries and enter the beckoning exile:

21 Based on the translation of: Ravikovitch, “Two Isles Hath New Zealand,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 198-199. 22 Psalms 23:2. 23 Translation based on Koren Bible, Psalms 23:2. 24 Psalms 137 begins with the words “By the rivers of Babylon” and recalls its verdure.

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כְּבָר ֵ אין עוֹד טַעַם לְהַס ִ ְתּיר אֲנ ְ ַחנוּ ָ נִסּיוֹן ֶ שׁלֹּא עָלָה יָפֶה תָּכְנִית שֶׁנִּשְׁתַּבְּשָׁה, ְ כּרוּכָה בְּרַצ ָ ְחנוּת רַבָּה מִדַּי, מַה לִּי מֵאֵלֶּה וּמַה לִּי מֵאֵלֶּה צוֹר ִ ְחים עַד לְגָרוֹן נִחָר וּמְפַצּ ִ ְלים חֻדָּהּ שֶׁל שַׂעֲרָה.25

No point in hiding it any longer: We’re an experiment that went awry, a plan that misfired, tied up with too much murderousness. Why should I care about this camp or that, screaming till their throats are raw, splitting fine hairs.26

Sometimes the persona’s projected ‘Tarshish’ leans more toward reaching a state of mind:

אֲנִי רוֹצָה לְהַגִּ ַיע אֶל קְצֵה הַמַּחְשָׁבָה ֶ שׁאַף ֵ ר ִ אשׁיתָהּ מְחַתֶּכֶת כְּס ִ ַכּין.27

I want to arrive at the edge of thought whose very beginning cuts like a knife.

Sometimes the speaker is inclined toward reaching the ‘Tarshish’ of a transcendent metaphysical state of being:

ְ בּעוֹד י ִ ָמים ְ מאֹד ר ִ ַבּים אֶמְצָא אֶת שֶׁבִּקְשָׁה נַפְשִׁי. אֶמְצָא לִי אֶת שַׁלְוַת נַפְשִׁי [...] ֵ וּבית ִ מדּוֹת לִי יִבָּנֶה אִם כֹּה יִתֵּן לִי א ִ ֱלֹהים ֵ וְאין יָתֵר בּוֹ וְחָסֵר.28

25 Ravikovitch, “Shenei iyyim le-New Zealand,” [“Two Isles Has New Zealand,”] Kol ha-shirim, 257-258. 26 Ravikovitch, “Two Isles Hath New Zealand,’ transl. Bloch and Chana, Hovering, 198-199. 27 Ravikovitch, “Ha-ma‘arav ha-kahol,” [“The Blue West,”] Kol ha-shirim, 75-76. 28 Ravikovitch, “Be-shivhei ha-shalva,” [“In Praise of Tranquility,”] Kol ha-shirim, 38.

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Ages from now I shall find my soul’s desire. I shall find my soul’s serenity. […]

Let a sanctuary be built for me if thus will grant me God with nothing spare nor missing there.

In seeking the transcendence of this serene sanctuary for her soul the speaker seeks a metaphysical nirvana. At the same time, she projects certain escapes in rather concrete terms. In Hitrosheshut for example, the escape is presented in a very concrete simile: shipwreck. The simile nevertheless points the way to a figurative desire:

אֲנִי רוֹצָה לְבַקֵּשׁ שֶׁאִם אָמוּת אֶהְיֶה כָּאֳנִיָּה ְ טרוּפָה; מַיִם שׁ ֵ ֶאין לָהֶם סוֹף ַ יְכבּוּ אֶת הַשְּׂרֵפָה.

Let me request that if I die I be like a shipwreck; endless waters will extinguish the blaze.

The speaker wants to flee life on earth. Her exodus is not confined to a serene departure as one might imagine a ship sailing smoothly upon the waters. Instead, the persona projects a tempestuous conclusion as a burning shipwreck. Both flames and water prompt another consideration of the poem’s associations with themes of the Day of Atonement, in fact of the entire period of the Ten Days of Repentance. The High Holy Day liturgy is replete with prayers calling attention to our relationships with God and to our own mortality, as well as the influential sway of repentance, prayer and acts of righteousness. Segments of the liturgy remind us that during the coming year some of us will perish, as God contemplates “who shall live and who shall die […] who shall perish by fire and who by water […] who by earthquake and who by plague […] who

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shall be tranquil and who shall be disturbed; who shall be at ease and who shall be afflicted …”29

The speaker of Hitrosheshut projects that she will meet her end in both flames and water. We already know she is ‘afflicted’ with love and we shall soon see why she knows that tranquility and ease will not be her final lot. En route, I shall attend to the concrete nautical façade which initially masks some significant conceptual issues. They are explored below in Segment 5.5.

5.5 From Ships to Shipwreck in Boundless Waters

A search for a close linguistic match for the shipwreck of Hitrosheshut leads beyond biblical sources to rabbinic texts as well. The following segment of the chapter investigates a text rich in sources for the intertextually-motivated image of a shipwreck in endless waters. Segment 5.6 will address the flames.

In bYevamot 121a, rabbinic literature furnishes a reference to sefina mitarefet in– a ship linguistically similar to the poem’s ’oniya terufa – a boat being demolished. The similarity is in part thematic as both the poem and the rabbinic literature refer to seafaring craft. As well, the similarity is morphological in terms of the shared verb root t.r.f The reference to the ship appears in an aggadic narrative in tannaitic material embedded in a talmudic legal text which, itself, not incidentally, also raises a setting of mayim she-‘ein lahem sof – boundless waters. Ravikovitch could well have accessed the midrashic material through her own textual studies or through familiarity with a popular compendium of midrashic materials. A well known example of the latter is called Sefer ha-aggada, a digest of midrashic literature. Compiled years ago by Bialik and Ravnitsky, it is a staple secondary source that has remained a greatly beloved midrashic ‘read’ of Hebrew speakers for generations.30 Below are the relevant excerpts directly from the primary source in Yevamot. A full version of the text is presented in Appendix A.

29 “Be-rosh ha-shana yikatevun u-ve-yom tzom kippur yehatemun,” High Holiday Prayerbook, ed. Morris Silverman (New York: The Prayer Book Press, 1967) 148; 358. 30 H.N. Bialik and Y.H. Ravnitsky, Sefer ha-aggada: mivhar ha-aggadot she-ba-talmud u-va- midrashim (Tel Aviv: Devir, third edition 1948).

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גמרא. תנו רבנן: נפל למים, בין שיש להם סוף בין שאין להם סוף - אשתו אסורה, דברי רבי מאיר; וחכמים אומרים: מים שיש להם סוף - אשתו מותרת, ושאין להם סוף - אשתו אסורה. […] תניא, אמר רבן גמליאל: פעם אחת הייתי מהלך בספינה וראיתי ספינה אחת שנשברה, והייתי מצטער על תלמיד חכם שבה[...] תניא, אמר רבי עקיבא: פעם אחת הייתי מהלך בספינה וראיתי ספינה אחת שמטרפת בים, והייתי מצטער על תלמיד חכם שבה. [...]31

Gemara: Our rabbis taught [as follows regarding a situation in which] a man fell into a body of water. Whether or not the body of water is boundless, it is prohibited for his wife to marry, in the opinion of Rabbi Meir. And the Sages said: If it is a visibly delineated body of water – the woman may marry; if it is a body of boundless waters – the woman is prohibited from marrying. […]

[Baraita:] It was taught that Rabban Gamliel said: Once I was travelling along on a boat, and saw another boat which was wrecked, and I felt sorry for the sage who was in it […]

[Baraita] It was taught that Rabbi Akiva said: Once I was travelling along on a boat, and saw another boat which being wrecked in the sea, and I felt sorry for the sage who was in it [...]32

The primary source is a talmudic sugya or sequence in the Babylonian Talmud. The sequence unfolds a consideration of the legal situation of women married to men who have disappeared into ‘boundless waters’.33

31 bYevamot 121a. 32 The passage begins with mishnaic legal material pertaining to the marriage prohibition outlined above. A dispute among sages irons out a wrinkle: the resolution is that the prohibition applies only in cases of ‘boundless waters’, not in cases involving bodies of waters whose shores are all visible from a single vantage point. If a man who has entered the latter is not seen to surface, it is presumed that he has drowned and his spouse is free to marry without fear of committing adultery, in light of a lack of divorce documentation. The sequence continues with the talmud’s amoraic discussion of the tannaitic material. This sequence incorporates both reported legal discussion and aggadic material. The latter is cited in the form of two consecutive tannaitic baraitot. 33 In Hebrew, the term for ‘boundless waters’ is mayim she-‘ein lahem sof – literally waters that have no end. The term is defined as: “The water of the sea or large river whose edges are not visible from all sides. He who drowns in ‘water without end’, it is forbidden for his wife to marry, lest he have surfaced on the other side without being seen, as its shores are not visible from all directions.” Translation based on the definition in: Hevruta la-lomed: taqlitor shel Bar Ilan, proyeqt ha-shut, girsa 2.

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The baraitot34 cited in the extended text employs the terms sefina ahat she-nishbera – a boat that was wrecked, and sefina mitarefet – a tempest tossed ship that is in the process of being wrecked. Both are germane to the discussion of the poem at hand.

First, the setting of the talmudic sequence offers an easily identifiable contextual connection for readers to associate with Ravikovitch’s choice of poetic wording: mayim she-‘ein lahem sof – ‘boundless waters’. Second, the two cited baraitot offer thematic associations in the form of seafaring vessels: the first is already broken down; the second is in the process of being demolished. Third, in addition to the contextual and thematic overlap, the two baraitot offer linguistic links to ships in our active memory as readers, one indirect and one direct.

The boat of the former baraita, sefina ’ahat she-nishbera – a wrecked boat, ties in linguistically with Jonah’s ship which was threatening imminent wreckage – ve-ha-’oniya hishva le-hishaver, by virtue of the shared verb root sh.b.r. As shown, Ravikovitch’s water-craft is associated with that of Jonah: this may be considered a thematic link with one degree of separation. More direct connections exist between Ravikovitch’s shipwreck and the one in progress in the latter baraita. One is thematic. The second is linguistic owing to the direct parallel of each verb to the root t.r.f: Ravikovitch writes of ’oniya terufa and the baraita tells of sefina mitarefet. The intertextual process thus quickens.

Not content to choreograph a pas de deux, trois or quatre for the poem and Proverbs, Jonah and Yevamot, Ravikovitch works out intricate dance variations for additional intertextual partners as this chapter will soon show in an examination of flames and waters.

34 Baraitot (singular: baraita) refer to external tannaitic texts cited, such as Tosefta. These texts are derived from the layer of language and literature parallel to the tannaitic material of the internal mishnaic material. See Appendix A for a fuller version of the baraitot in this talmudic sequence.

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5.6 Scrolls on Fire

(i) Persona as ‘Marginal’

Having pursued the metaphors of ‘impoverishment’ through biblical sources and the motif of ships in rabbinic sources, this segment continues to navigate the sea of classical Jewish texts to fathom the intertextual resonance of ‘Torah scrolls’ and ‘the blaze’. The contextual sense of the poem imparts that the persona is on fire. The speaker calls attention to this fact in the central section of the poem that sunders the remainder of the text. She contrasts her status to that of holy Torah scrolls which people must rescue from flames of disaster:

Torah scrolls are rescued from fire not I.

In pointing out that Torah scrolls are rescued from flames the speaker establishes a foundation with which to contrast her own status. She contributes to the foundation by kindling allusions to legal and aggadic material in classical Jewish sources concerning the care and treatment of Torah scrolls. The tractate mYadayim legislates that touching the margins of sacred Torah scrolls renders people’s hands ritually impure.35 The speaker identifies with those edges; she feels ‘marginal’ and marginalized. The tosefta for mShabbat provides a legal case which requires rescue for Torah scrolls in the event that they fall into an oven.36 The speaker knows she is not in the same league: people do not rush to rescue her physically.

The speaker also conveys an awareness that God is not likely to deliver her soul. The symbolic use that the poet makes of Torah scrolls to be rescued from fire suggests her

35 mYadayim 3:4. Margins include the upper and lower blank strips and the blank sides once they have been wrapped around their rollers. The discussion takes places within the larger consideration of that which renders teruma – the priests’ due – ritually unfit. 36 Tosefta Shabbat 13:6. The case also discusses the disposition of teruma.

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recognition that her soul is not in the same league as those of certain sages37 to whom God attended. Narrative material toward the end of Sifrei Deuteronomy,38 for example, tells of such sages. The narrative links the motifs of Torah scrolls and flames to Rabbi Hanina ben Teradyon and his wife whose deaths are decreed. Their daughter is sentenced to a life of prostitution. Rabbi Hanina ben Teradyon is to be immolated along with his Torah scroll. In a metaphoric reading one can imagine the soul of the sage enwrapped in his scroll. All three figures manage to pronounce select Scriptures which endear their souls to God; God recognizes their utterances for the purposes of tzidduq ha-din – theodicy. We can infer that their souls will be safe. By contrast, Ravikovitch’s persona suspects hers will not.

Through these allusions the speaker represents herself metaphorically as ‘other’ than Torah scroll, ‘other’ than sacred: she presents herself as ‘marginal’ and ritually unfit. In excluding herself from human rescue and divine acceptance the speaker acknowledges her status as distant from people and God and alienated from the world of Torah. Her feelings of estrangement permeate the entire poem.

(ii) Persona as ‘Other’

In presenting her as ‘other’ Ravikovitch fashions a persona who resembles Elisha ben Abuya who became known as ’Aher – ‘Other’.39 In this context, Ravikovitch subtly incorporates hints of the talmudic tractate of Hagiga. A baraita quoted in both Babylonian and Jerusalem versions of Talmud, recounts a metaphorical journey he

37 The deaths of these sages who sanctify God’s name rather than transgress divine commandments is of the nature recounted in the Martyrology segment of the High Holy Day liturgy. In this way the speaker of the poem encrypts yet another association with the themes of repentance and relationship with God and her inability to attain either. 38 Sifrei Deut.Parashat Ha’azinu, pisqa 307 in: Sifrei ‘al Sefer Devarim ‘im hilufei girsa’ot ve-he‘arot me’et Finkelstein. Nidpas la-rishon be-Berlin: Hotza’at ha-aguda ha-tarbutit ha-yehudit be-Germanya, 1909. Reprinted in Israel: Beit ha-midrash la-rabbanim she-be-America, 2001. 346. Hencefoth: Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 39 I thank Professor Harry Fox for suggesting an investigation of pardes – the ‘orchard narrative’ cited in the Talmud. The similarities between Ravikovitch’s persona as ‘marginalized’ or ‘other’ and Elisha ben Abuya, known by the epithet ‘Other’, enrich this analysis of Hitrosheshut.

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takes along with three additional sages into an orchard of mysticism. The text tells of the fates with which each meets:

תנו רבנן: ארבעה נכנסו בפרדס, ואלו הן: בן עזאי, ובן זומא, אחר, ורבי עקיבא. אמר להם רבי עקיבא: כשאתם מגיעין אצל אבני שיש טהור אל תאמרו מים מים! משום שנאמר דובר שקרים לא יכון לנגד עיני. בן עזאי הציץ ומת, עליו הכתוב יקר בעיני ה' המותה לחסידיו. בן זומא הציץ ונפגע, ועליו הכתוב אומר דבש מצאת אכל דיך פן תשבענו והקאתו. אחר קיצץ בנטיעות. רבי עקיבא יצא בשלום.40

Our Rabbis taught: Four people entered ‘the orchard’, and these are they: ben Azzai and ben Zoma, Aher and Rabbi Akiva. Rabbi Akiva said to them: When you arrive at the stones of pure marble, do not say ‘water, water!’ For it is said: One who speaks falsehood shall not be established before my eyes. Ben Azzai peeked and died. Of him Scriptures say: Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of the Lord’s devoted ones. Ben Zoma peeked and became injured. Of him Scriptures say: If you find honey, eat just enough, lest you become overly sated with it, and vomit it. Aher ‘mutilated the shoots’. Rabbi Akiva departed unhurt.

The text conveys euphemistically that of the four sages, Elisha ben Abuya becomes an apostate. Several texts which follow the change in the behaviours and beliefs of ’Aher, show Elisha ben Abuya as a ‘marginal’ fellow with one foot in the rabbinic legal system and one foot outside its bounds. More than one text ends with Rabbi Meir trying to persuade his teacher to ‘return’.41 For example, in one baraita Rabbi Meir continues to seek his master’s teachings. He accompanies his teacher on foot for a great distance on the Sabbath to learn at his side. Elisha ben Abuya who has dispensed with Sabbath observance is on horseback. When the two near the prescribed limits of sabbatical journey, Elisha ben Abuya directs his disciple to turn back. Rabbi Meir attempts to get his teacher to ‘return’ as well. The sage’s reply is telling:

אמר ליה: אף אתה חזור בך. אמר ליה: ולא כבר אמרתי לך: כבר שמעתי מאחורי הפרגוד שובו בנים שובבים - חוץ מאחר.42

40 bHagiga 14b. yHagiga 2:1, 77b. The Babylonian and Jerusalem talmudim reverse the fates of ben Azai and ben Zoma. 41 There are three such instances connected to three vignettes in bHagiga 15a. 42 This vignette is one of the instances, loc. cit.

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Rabbi Meir said to him: You, too, go back!43 Aher said to him: Have I not already told you?! I have already heard from behind the Veil: ‘Return, you backsliding children’ — except for Aher.

Elisha ben Abuya is conscious that he has already incontrovertibly breached certain frontiers. He contends that he has been definitively eschewed by God. As readers we can imagine him continuing to ride onward, beyond the margin of sanctioned limits, literally and metaphorically. He is highly aware of his ‘otherness’.

Ravikovitch’s poem resourcefully engages Elisha ben Abuya of Hagiga, his status as ‘Other’ and articulation of ineligibility to repent. Ravikovitch’s persona is similarly aware that she has tasted the fruit of ‘other frontiers’ and is at the point of no return. Both figures travel deliberately beyond the limens of sanctity. In a succinct contemporary version of Elisha ben Abuya’s pronouncement, the persona contrasts herself to sacred scrolls whose rescue is mandated, flatly stating “not I.”

5.7 Flames and Waters

The origin of the persona’s flames derives from her acute affliction with love, comparable to that of the female lover of Song of Songs who also sings of fire: [...]כִּי עַזָּה כַמָּוֶת אַהֲבָה קָשָׁה כ ְ ִשׁאוֹל קִנְאָה רְשָׁפ ֶָיה רִשְׁפֵּי אֵשׁ שַׁלְהֶבֶתְיָה: מַיִם ר ִ ַבּים לֹא ְ יוּכלוּ ל ַ ְכבּוֹת אֶת ָ האַהֲבָה ָ וּנְהרוֹת לֹא יִשׁ ְ ְט ָפוּה אִם יִתֵּן ִ אישׁ אֶת כָּל הוֹן ֵ בּיתוֹ ָ בּאַהֲבָה בּוֹז יָבוּזוּ לוֹ:44

[…] for love is fierce as death, Passion is mighty as She’ol, Its darts, darts of fire, Godflame. Mighty waters would not suffice to extinguish the love, Nor rivers drown it. Were one to offer his entire fortune for love, He would be ridiculed to shame.45

43 The Hebrew imperative hazor bakh – “Go back!” carries the sense of “Repent!” 44 Song of Songs 8:6-7. 45 Based on translation in JPS Tanakh, Song of Songs 8:6-7.

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Chapter Two shows that the speaker is aware that she is smouldering. Chapter Three shows that she suffers from conditions of love in unsuitable proportions. She experiences love as a makka – an affliction that smites as surely as a plague. Chapter Two shows that the persona’s Ariadne’s thread, wound about metaphorically with ‘sweet-delicacies and apples’, is steeped in ‘vanilla’. A dearth of love on the receiving end leaves her ill at ease, physically uncomfortable, needy and craving ‘vanilla’. An excess of the wrong kind of love, ‘mistaken’ love verging on idolatry places her in danger of being burned, as in Devarim she-yesh lahem shi‘ur.46 A surfeit of love on the giving end, of which she wishes to be rid, poses the threat of instant combustion. The persona’s Ariadne’s thread is a filament leading to fire. Owing to the direction of her ‘out of bounds’ love read on one level as apostasy and absence of divine love, the speaker of Hitrosheshut is already in flames.

In Hitrosheshut the persona shows the degree to which her personal flames have escalated and the urgent call for copious waters to extinguish them. To do so she harnesses the wording of Song of Songs 8:7 regarding love, fire and water with some minor, yet significant, adjustments to its elements; she simultaneously presses into service the “boundless waters” of bYevamot 121a. Rather than “Mighty waters would not suffice to extinguish the love” as in the Song of Songs, her variation reads: “Endless waters will extinguish the blaze” or “Let endless waters extinguish the blaze.”

The speaker applies her version to the blaze-who-is-herself suffering from a condition of love and contextual equivalent to the fire of love. Whereas the mighty waters of Song of Songs are insufficient and ineffective in the face of love-fire, in Hitrosheshut waters exponentially more copious than those mighty waters are summoned to exert their effect on the love-blaze. A vertically arranged graphic juxtaposition of the corresponding elements is provided below. The effect of their interaction is central to the impact of the principal motifs of the poem.

46 See Chapter 2, n. 72 regarding errant love and idolatry.

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שיר השירים: מַיִם ר ִ ַבּים לֹא יוּכלוּ ל ַ ְכבּוֹת אֶת ָ האַהֲבָה. ↕ ↕ ↕ התרוששות: מַיִם שׁ ֵ ֶאין לָהֶם סוֹף ַ יְכבּוּ אֶת הַשְּׂרֵפָה.

Song: Mighty waters would not suffice to extinguish the love. ↕ ↕ ↕ Hitrosheshut: Boundless/endless waters will extinguish the blaze.

With the adjustments to wording, the persona succeeds in painting an exponential increase in the mighty waters of Song of Songs and their dousing capacities. Also by token of exponential increase, the flames of love have been fanned with poetic bellows to the proportions of a raging conflagration. Another of Ravikovitch’s artistic linguistic touches becomes evident through metathesis: reshafim – ‘darts of fire’ [r.sh.f.] have become a serefa – a three-alarm fire [s.r.f.].

Hitrosheshut further develops its intertextual dance with the cited verses of Song of Songs. The persona would give anything to be rid of her love-fire. Despite derision ‘to shame’ she would offer her ‘entire fortune’ and leave herself ‘impoverished’ in order to be rid of her love-fire. Sadly, she knows that the gesture would be to no avail. Alas she must seek another solution through death in endless waters.

In uncovering another layer of a reading that perceives the persona as ready to give all in order to divest herself of her love-fire with no regard for potential shame, I recall a related midrash in Shir ha-shirim rabba. Dahlia Ravikovitch’s textual familiarity with bible and midrash would have extended to this source directly or through commentaries or compendium. This midrash is outlined below. It functions to extend the interplay between the poem and text of the Song of Songs.

Shir ha-shirim rabba provides a set of five patterned midrashic texts connected to the Song of Songs 8:7: “Were one to offer his entire fortune for love, he would be ridiculed to shame.” The basic pattern views five subjects, mostly sages, who go to great lengths or expense to be involved in labours of love to live a life of Torah. None of the subjects is deterred by derision. Each is persistent. The import of the given set of midrashic texts is, in the assessment of Jacob Neusner, “that the compiler has assembled them to

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make his point which is the intense love that God has for Israel, through the Torah, realized in its sages […]”47

The final midrash of the set pictures the bier of Rabbi Oshaia of Teriyya as airborne. This talmudic trope reserved for the select few suggests a movement heavenward upon death: Rabbi Oshaia is drawn upward in approval and acknowledgement by God. Fittingly the midrash concludes with the report that the generation of Rabbi Oshaia of Teriyya connected the recitation of the verse “Were one to offer his entire fortune for love […]” to their mentor.

In an extension of the poem’s intertextual engagement with the biblical source of the Song of Songs the persona of Hitrosheshut constructs her self as the antithesis to Rabbi Oshaia of Song of Songs Rabba. Her composition of self is antithetical in terms of human and divine esteem as is her soul’s potential to be retrieved lovingly, upon death, by God. She presents as feeling entirely estranged from either human or divine care or acceptance. The speaker feels so estranged that she projects the circumstances of her own death as the opposite of a bier floating peacefully heavenward. Rather than calm ascent she envisions a fiery, tempestuous descent to the watery depths:

Let me request that if I die I be like a shipwreck; endless waters will extinguish the blaze.

The derision of peers or public would not deter the speaker from giving her entire fortune to the point of ‘impoverishment’ to rid herself of her love-fire. For her, the ultimate projection of release is that “boundless waters will extinguish the blaze.”

The constellation of motifs that includes fire, water, flame, ship, love and extinguishment recurs consistently in the poetic corpus. The only variable of consequence applies to degree. In the following poem, for example, several bodies of water are conscripted by

47 Jacob Neusner, Song of Songs Rabbah: An Analytical Translation (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989) Vol. 2, 226.

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name to form ‘mighty waters’ to douse the unnamed ‘darts of love’ from which the speaker suffers. In the process of rifling through her clothing pile the speaker has managed to stir up the discomfort of a terminated relationship with a lover. She requires relief.

לֹא אַהֲבָה אֲנִי מְבַקֶּשֶׁת רַק מַיִם ר ִ ַבּים מֵעַל ְ לרֹאשִׁי שׁ ַ ֶיְּכבּוּ אֶת ָ האַהֲבָה. כָּל ֵ מימֵי הַיָּם ה ִ ַתּיכוֹן וְהַיָּם ָ האָדֹם וְהַיָּם ה ָ ַשּׁחוֹר הֵם מַיִם שֶׁל שַׁלְוָה.48

It’s not love that I seek just mighty waters above my head that will extinguish the love. All the waters of the Mediterranean Sea, And the Red Sea and the Black Sea they are waters of tranquility.

In the excerpt above the persona summons ‘mighty waters’. On one level she beckons them to provide her with the much needed relief of equanimity that sounds suicidally permanent. On another level the speaker knows in her heart of hearts that ‘mighty waters’ will afford her temporary relief at best. Since ‘mighty waters’ are apparently insufficient to quench love, as asserted in the Song of Songs 8:7, the intertextual consequence is that the best she can hope for is a brief reprieve potentially followed by a form of recovery or retrieval. Congruently, in one of their biblical contexts the words ‘mighty waters’ resonate with the undefeated tone of the revived Psalmist who celebrates deliverance at the hand of God:

יִשְׁלַח מ ָ ִמּרוֹם יִקָּחֵנִי יַמְשֵׁנִי מִמַּיִם ר ִ ַבּים:49

God reached down from on high, God took me; God drew me out of the mighty waters.50

48 Ravikovitch, “Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora,” Monsoon, 42-45. 49 Psalms 18:17.

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On at least one level the speaker of Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora,51 knows that life can somehow go on. In Hitrosheshut, however, the persona is fully on fire. She is a shipwreck. She is not prone to rescue. What choice has she for relief but to see herself-the-shipwreck through to finality in the ‘boundless waters’ of the deep? This poem provides a view of the lovelorn persona unequivocally beckoning thanatos.

5.8 Beckoning Thanatos at the Heart of the Sea

(i) Maritime Venue

The speaker, deeply estranged from people and divine care, plans her own demise. In her choice of venue she makes a statement that relates inversely to God’s sphere of influence.

The scripturally-acknowledged parameters of God’s influence appear in a midrash. It elucidates the purported reason for Jonah’s selection of the sea as scene of flight from fulfilment of the divine mission. The rabbinic thought in Midrash Tanhuma posits the following:

אמר יונה, אני בורח מלפניו למקום שאין שם כבודו. אם אעלה לשמים, שם כבודו, שנאמר על השמים כבודו (תהלים קיג:ד), ואם על הארץ, שם כבודו, שנאמר מלא כל ארץ כבודו (ישעיה ו:ג), הריני בורח לים, שאין נאמר שם כבודו. ירד ליפו ולא מצא שם אניה לירד. והאניה שירד בה יונה היתה רחוקה מיפו מהלך שני ימים, לנסות את יונה.52

Jonah said: I am fleeing from before God to a place where God’s glory is absent. If I were to flee to the Heavens, God’s glory is present there, [for it is (said) written in Scriptures]: ‘God’s glory is above the heavens’ (Psalms 123:4). And as for upon the land, God’s glory is there, for it is (said) [written in Scriptures]: ‘The entire earth is filled with God’s glory’ (Isaiah 6:3). I am hereby fleeing to the sea, for nothing is said of God’s glory there. Jonah went down to Jaffa and did not find a ship there to board. The ship which he ultimately boarded was at a distance of two days’ journey from Jaffa, to test Jonah.

50 Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Psalms 18:17. 51 Ravikovitch, “Hippasti ve-lo matza’ti ’et hultzati ha-shehora,” Monsoon, 42-45. 52 Midrash Tanhuma, Parashat Va-yiqra, 8.

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Midrash Tanhuma elucidates the reasoning conceived for Jonah’s choice of escape on the high sea, as opposed to land or air. In rabbinic thought Jonah chooses the sea as his escape route as it is the only setting over which the glory of God’s influence is not biblically extolled. His choice is made ostensibly in order to take responsibility for his own resistance to the mission, rather than to give direct offence to God.

Ravikovitch’s persona chooses the sea as site of her death for reasons of estrangement. As an individual who feels marginalized in life, she will cross a boundary in order to be beyond God’s reach. Like Elisha ben Abuya who exits the limens of sanctity, she knows full well that there is to be no turning back.

(ii) Estranged in Life; Soul After Death

In poems across the oeuvre the persona’s outlook fluctuates over whether to expect divine acceptance of her soul after her death. Below are examples illustrating her thinking at disparate points along the continuum of her vacillation.

There are indications that the persona hopes that her soul will cleave to God after her death, although such is not stated in so many words. At times she expresses this desire for devequt or ‘fusion’ known in qabbala with a motif used frequently by the medieval Hebrew poets of al-Andalus. In keeping with Platonic philosophy, the medievalists envisioned the soul created by God as aching to be freed of its confinement in the body and its earthly appetites. The soul was imagined as yearning to soar upward like a bird, to bond in its purity with God.53 Along these lines Ravikovitch writes:

לָמוּת ְ כּמוֹ רָחֵל כְּשֶׁהַנֶּפֶשׁ רוֹעֶדֶת כּ ִ ַצּפוֹר רוֹצָה לְהִמָּלֵט. [...] לָמוּת ְ כּמוֹ רָחֵל אֲנִי רוֹצָה.54

53 Plato’s Phaedo, 67a-e, in Plato: The Collected Dialogues, Including the Letters, eds. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1961), 49-50. 54 Ravikovitch, “Kemo rahel,” Kol ha-shirim, 190-191.

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To die like Rachel when the soul shudders like a bird, wants to break free. […] To die like Rachel, is what I want.55

There are also indications in the oeuvre that the persona is beset with doubt about a reunion of her soul with God. In Be-shivhei ha-shalva56 previously cited, the speaker yearns to find this ‘one whom her soul has sought’, ‘the one whom her soul has loved’. She is prepared to go to great lengths to construct a sanctuary for the union of her soul with this being. Despite the anticipation and projected desire, there is an eerie imbalance that destabilizes the crafted symmetry and parallelisms of the remainder of the poem: at the heart of the holy of holies constructed in the speaker’s soul, there is no beckoning call to the ‘the one whom her soul has sought’, nor any response:

בּוֹ ֵ אין קוֹרֵא אַף ֵ אין עוֹנֶה57

Within there is no appeal, nary a response

I would venture that the same part of Ravikovitch’s psyche that identifies with Elisha ben Abuya as Aher, knows exactly what accounts for the paired symmetry and exactly what precipitates its imbalance. For background I refer here to one of the vignettes following the pardes or ‘orchard narrative’. Elisha ben Abuya quizzes his disciple on the meaning of a reference to the following scriptural source:

[ ְ בּיוֹם טוֹבָה הֱיֵה ְ בטוֹב ְ וּביוֹם רָעָה רְאֵה] גַּם אֶת זֶה לְעֻמַּת זֶה עָשָׂה הָא ִ ֱלֹהים ...58

[In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in the day of adversity consider:] God has made the one as well as the other.59

55 Ravikovitch, “Like Rachel,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering,156-157. 56 Ravikovitch, “Be-shivhei ha-shalva,” Kol ha-shirim, 38. 57 Loc. cit. 58 Qohelet 7:14. The introductory part of the verse is supplied for context in square parentheses.

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The disciple attenuates his learning by restricting his answers to examples of God’s paired formations in the natural world consisting of larger and smaller versions of the same creations: mountains and hills, seas and rivers. Elisha ben Abuya reproves him and points out that he should have responded with the inverse symmetrical pairs taught by Rabbi Akiva. These are shown below. Prior to the familiar attempt of the disciple to get his master to repent, with the stock ending in which Elisha ben Abuya expresses the knowledge that God rejects him and his repentance, the teacher outlines the sets and the related consequences:

ברא צדיקים - ברא רשעים, ברא גן עדן - ברא גיהנם. כל אחד ואחד יש לו שני חלקים, אחד בגן עדן ואחד בגיהנם, זכה צדיק - נטל חלקו וחלק חברו בגן עדן, נתחייב רשע - נטל חלקו וחלק חברו בגיהנם.60

God created righteous people and created wicked people. God created the Garden of Eden and created Gehinnom. Everyone has two portions, one in the Garden of Eden and one in Gehinnom. The righteous person, found meritorious, takes both his own portion and his peer's portion in the Garden of Eden. The wicked person, found guilty, takes his own portion and his peer’s portion in Gehinnom.

Ravikovitch’s persona paints her awareness of Elisha ben Abuya’s response to Rabbi Meir. The destabilization in the crafted symmetry of Be-shivhei ha-shalva intimates that the speaker strongly suspects there will be no divine acceptance for her soul either. It will not appeal to God, nor will God reply, as she asserts in the poem: “Within there is no appeal, nary a response.” She suspects that the future of her soul will consist of two portions of Gehinnom, as it were. The silence in the sanctuary for the speaker’s soul is deafening. It bespeaks the estrangement from God that she dreads that her soul must bear after her death.

Hitrosheshut indicates the speaker’s vacillation over how, or with what degree of certainty, she relates to God. In life she suffers from estrangement, alienation and exile

59 Koren Bible, Qohelet 7:14. The introductory part of the verse is supplied for context in square parentheses. 60 bHagiga 15a.

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from God’s precincts. Through a fiery death she projects a desired purification for her soul and doubts about the potential for it to be retrieved by God.

To sum up to this point concerning the heart of the sea as the location for thanatos, Midrash Tanhuma sheds light on Jonah’s choice of a maritime setting for escape. In an inverse application in Hitrosheshut the same source elucidates Ravikovitch’s site for her persona’s anticipated death: having been exiled from God’s care and knowing she cannot ‘return’ she deliberately chooses a venue reported beyond God’s influence. The site is an expression of estrangement from God during her lifetime. Her soul, however, stands a chance, a slim one in her mind, of post mortem purification.

(iii) Seafaring Vessel

We still need to understand more about the specific motif of a ship as the instrument for the persona’s operation. Again classical Jewish sources provide a contextual clue. The Babylonian Talmud cites a mishnaic consideration of the salient quality of a ship as ritually clean or pure, and extends the discussion with an analogy:

משנה. מנין לספינה שהיא טהורה – שנאמר (משלי ל:יט) דרך אניה בלב ים. גמרא. פשיטא אניה בלב ים היא! הא קא משמע לן: כים, מה ים טהור - אף ספינה טהורה.61

Mishna. How is it known that a ship is ritually pure? It is said: the way of a ship at the heart of the sea (Proverbs 30:19).

Gemara. Obviously [it is] a boat in the heart of the sea! What it is meant to (have us hear) [teach us] is: just as the sea is ritually pure, so is a ship ritually pure.

The source above uses the springboard of a well-known expression of wonder in Proverbs. The wonder is about majestic sights and occurrences in nature. A similar expression of wonder echoes in several of Ravikovitch’s poems.62 She would have been

61 bShabbat 83b. 62 Proverbs 30:18-20 ponders such wonders as the passage of a ship upon the waters, the way an eagle remains airborne, and the way of a man and a woman together. The wonder resounds linguistically and thematically regarding eros in the speaker’s wondrous contemplation of “marvelous matter” in: Ravikovitch, “Mahlon ve-khilyon,” Kol ha-shirim, 80. See Chapter 4.

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familiar with the amplifications of its biblical articulation which appear in supertexts such as the mishna and gemara cited.

The source is of assistance in bringing sharper focus to the speaker’s self-portrait as a ship. If her putative lack of Torah purity and alienation from God are what makes her think she is quite unlike Torah scrolls and therefore unworthy of rescue, then her aspiration to become a ship begins to make sense as an antidote for her soul following her death. A ship has the metaphoric potential to transfer her soul from its earthly estrangement from God and impurity, to an afterlife of purity and divine acceptance. In this regard, Hitrosheshut is not alone. In the poetic corpus there are additional self- portraits of the speaker as a ship. A companion piece may be viewed in the titular poem of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s posthumously published collection, Mayim Rabbim63 [Mighty Waters]:

אֳנִיָּה צָפָה בְּלִי עֹגֶן. יֵשׁ לָהּ מִפְרָשׂ אֲבָל בַּיָּם ֵ אין ַרוּח. […] הָאֳנִיָּה לֹא תַּגִּ ַיע ְ לשׁוּם ָ מקוֹם. הָאֳנִיָּה ַ הזֹּאת ִ היא דַּלְיָה מָרִיָה ִ היא תִּטְבַּע ַ היּוֹם ִ היא טוֹבַעַת ַ היּוֹם.64

A ship adrift without anchor. It has a sail but on the sea there’s no wind. […] The ship won’t make port. This ship is the Dahlia Maria she will sink today she is sinking today.

63 Dahlia Ravikovitch, “Mayim Rabbim,” Mayim Rabbim, eds. Dana Olmert and Uzi Shavit (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 2006) 7-8. 64 Loc cit.

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Despite the worldly-sounding name evoking the proud seafaring fleets of fifteenth and sixteenth century Spain,65 the prospects of the ‘Dahlia Maria’ are bleak. Without the locomotion of the wind on the water, the soul carried by this craft might not get any further than its current state of torpor.66

Further to the speaker’s construction of self as a ship for her mission, the motif is known in world literature as well. In some strands of world literature ships are known as vehicles which transfer souls from this world to an afterlife or next stage of existence. This motif is known, for example, in ancient Egyptian literature in the Book of the Dead which pictures the solar vessel of the sun deity, Ra.67 It served as instructions for transition of the soul to the next world for those seeking passage to an afterlife. This motif is also known in ancient Greek mythology in which Charon, the infernal boatman known by the epithet ‘ferryman of Hades’, ferries souls of the recently deceased across a river.68 Desolate souls left behind were destined to wander the banks of the river for one hundred years. In the literature of the Philippines, for example, there are boats acknowledged as soul-boats for similar purposes.69 While there is some hope of an

65 The name Dahlia Maria is reminiscent of several famous fifteenth and sixteenth-century Spanish craft. One is the Santa Maria which, along with the Nina and Pinta, set sail from Spanish waters in 1492 under the command of Christopher Columbus (Xavier, Pastor, The Ships of Christopher Columbus, London: Conway Maritime Press, 1992, 9). The name also evokes a link in name to a few boats of the Spanish Armada named for Santa Maria. During the Armada’s attempted invasion of England in 1588, the Santa Maria de la Rosa drifted and sank off the shore of Ireland (Colin Martin and Geoffrey Parker, The Spanish Armada, London: Hamish Hamilton, 1988, 55, 62-63). With regard to drifting and sinking, the Dahlia Maria comes closest to the name and fate of Santa Maria de la Rosa. 66 Translators Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld capture the essence of the poem in their translation by adding a line to say, “She’s gone astray. Ravikovitch, “Many Waters,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 239-240. 67 Jean-Louis de Cenival, Le Livre Pour Sortir le Jour: Le Livre des Morts des Anciens Egyptiens (Bordeaux: le Musée d’Antiquitaine et Réunion des Musées Nationaux, 1992) 26-27. 68 Ronnie H. Terpening, “Prose Dialogues and Narrative,” Charon and the Crossing: Ancient, Medieval and Renaissance Transformations of a Myth. (Lewisberg: Bucknell University Press, 1985). 104-123. 69 Maria Bernadette L. Abrera “The Soul Boat and the Boat-Soul: An Inquiry into the Indigenous Soul,” http://www.researchsea.com. Abrera writes about bangka boats and related boat rituals in connection with a transfer of souls to an afterlife.

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afterlife for the sailing souls of world literature, the soul of Ravikovitch’s speaker’s seems destined for the deep. In this context I shall ponder the flames of the ship again.

5.9 Flame-inducing Brushstroke

A penultimate pass at the self-portrait entails another visual sweep of that flame- inducing brushstroke which advances ‘ship’ to ‘shipwreck’. Flames consume and flames purify. Owing to these properties several world-religions and cultures incorporate fire in funeral rites for ritual purification. Frequently such ceremonies occur on the waters, also thought to have purifying properties. To this day there are religious groups in India whose members set their deceased afloat on burning biers in the water. In an age gone by Norse Vikings used to honour their deceased with cremation in carved stone ships on land. Dahlia Ravikovitch was conversant with world literature and well acquainted with a repertoire of ships, ships on the water, ships on fire and shipwreck. She would have been familiar with their literary symbolism for death and the departure of souls, for the transfer of souls to their next phase of existence and for purification.

Viewed through the looking glass of world literature the flames in the portrait suggest that the speaker harbours a desire for her soul to be purified. She can address this aspiration in the semblance of a ship. The flames complete the effect both in terms of transposing ‘ship’ to ‘shipwreck’ and in effecting purification through fire on the water. In this way the image of thanatos through fiery shipwreck elucidates the physical manifestation of the speaker’s metaphysical aim.

This study has traced an intertextual pas de deux of the poem and the Song of Songs concerning love in general and ‘mighty waters’. It has traced an inclination to offer one’s entire fortune for the sake of love and commented on the hypothetical peer and public reaction. This study has also detected an extension of the intertextual dance through recourse to Song of Songs Rabba regarding the inclination of Rabbi Oshaia of Teriyya to offer an entire lifetime in the service, learning and love of Torah, and by regarding his miraculous, airborne divine retrieval.

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In a final spiralling pass at the self-portrait in order to consider the flame-inducing brushstroke which advances ‘ship’ to ‘shipwreck’ I return to a view of the fire through the lens of Song of Songs:

There is choreography yet to examine. It is the choreography for the adagio that engages the poem with the ‘darts of fire’ or the ‘Godflame’ of ‘love-fierce-as-death’ and ‘passion-mighty-as-She’ol’. This particular balletic composition requires very subtle movement whose source is in Song of Songs Rabba. The enigmatic shalhevet-ya or Godflame of Song of Songs 8:6 is illuminated in Song of Songs Rabba as follows:

רשפיה רשפי אש שלהבת יה, רבי ברכיה אמר כאש של מעלה לא האש מכבה למים ולא המים מכבין לאש.71

‘Its flashes are flashes of fire, a most vehement flame.’ R. Berekiah said, ‘Like the fire that is on high, fire does not consume water, nor water, fire.’72

This instance of intertextual engagement leads to divine fire. In navigating this course to the divine ‘fire that is on high’, Ravikovitch’s persona has made her point about life and death through the canon of classical Jewish sources. The ultimate effect is as stated generally above: beckoning thanatos through fiery shipwreck elucidates the physical manifestation of the speaker’s metaphysical aim: the persona who suffers from a condition of love will rid herself of its flames in the heart of the deep; upon death she aspires to have her soul purified through fire should there be any chance of retrieval by

70 Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Song of Songs 8:6-7. 71 Shir Ha-Shirim Rabba 8:6. 72 Jacob Neusner, Song of Songs Rabbah, 226.

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her creator. Despite estrangement in her lifetime, the persona harbours an impulse for the union of her soul with God, after death, in the place of ‘fire that is on high’.

5.10 Summary

On a personal level the persona of Hitrosheshut feels alienated and uncared for. She feels ‘marginalized’ and ‘other’. She takes responsibility for her mortality in hand. She resolves to sail away in boundless waters to be demolished as a fiery shipwreck. She exerts responsibility for the sanctity of her soul, albeit in the post facto manner described. The poem engages intertextually in pas de deux and balletic variations with several partners and groups: Proverbs, Jonah, bYevamot including both tannaitic and amoraic elements, bHagiga and yHagiga, Midrash Tanhuma; and most significantly with Song of Songs and Song of Songs Rabba. The speaker engages in intertextual choreography to indicate that she is suffering from a surfeit of incendiary love. On the spiritual level, this overwhelming passion shifts her attentions and allegiances beyond the outermost edges of a life of God and Torah. On the level of human ardour, the speaker continues to correspond, at heart, with a lovelorn woman at the heart of certain poems in the Song of Songs.

The next chapter shows that on a more global level the persona takes responsibility for the sanctity of human life. As a member of the collective she refuses to accept a status quo of divestment of responsibility for civilian fatalities which occur in struggles of attrition and skirmishes of ‘othering by stereotype’. The next chapter demonstrates the way in which Dahlia Ravikovitch’s persona paints her collective verbal self-portrait as ‘the voice of responsibility’ in a work of postmodern poetics.

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Chapter Six Voice of Responsibility 6.1 Preamble to Portrayal of a Voice

To this point, this study has concentrated on the lamenting lovelorn soul whose speaker paints verbal self-portraits on a personal lyrical note. By and large the self-portraits examined are connected to love experienced in dissatisfying proportions: too little, too much, of the wrong kind. This chapter shows that the persona also laments a critical lack of human love on a broader scale.

In a suite of poems called Sugyot be-yahadut bat zemanenu – roughly translated as Issues in Contemporary Judaism, Dahlia Ravikovitch conveys the impersonal chaos of battle, impressions of war-torn children and forlorn adults. The series appears in the poet’s 1987 collection sardonically entitled ’Ahava ’amitit – Real Love.1 This poetry is tinged with the subtle irony that flourishes in the emotional space between poignant familiarities and painful fragilities of life. In these songs of dissent Ravikovitch protests human suffering and civilian fatalities which occur during conflicts of attrition and as a result of ingrained inertia due to collectively held stereotypes designating ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’. Both take their toll, even in times of ostensible peace.

Among the poems in the suite, ‘Egla ‘arufa2 has its roots in an actual occurrence.3 A student was fatally wounded in a Hebron marketplace. Not a soul came to his aid. Some

1 Dahlia Ravikovitch, ’Ahava ’amitit (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1987). Yehuda Amichai, whose work is largely contemporaneous with that of Ravikovitch, reflects a similarly sardonic tone in his poem ’Ahava ’idealit. His poem alludes to war and admonishes that people should always leave open a path of retreat to childhood. See: Yehuda Amichai, “’Ahava ’idealit,” Shirei Yehuda Amichai, (Jerusalem and Tel Aviv: Schocken, 2003) Vol. 3, 172. Henceforth: Shirei Yehuda Amichai. 2 Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch translate the title of the poem as “Blood Heifer” in: Ravikovitch, “Blood Heifer,” transl. Bloch and Bloch, The Window, 98-99. Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld translate the title as “Beheaded Heifer” in: Ravikovitch, “Beheaded Heifer,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld Hovering, 195-196. 3 Ravikovitch, notes, transl. Bloch and Bloch, The Window, 116.

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refrained, thinking he was an Arab, some thinking he was a Jew. He was treated as an ‘other’ by virtue of stereotype. He died where he fell.

Ravikovitch rejects the notion of ‘collateral human damage’ in conflicts of ‘othering’. Through poetry she communicates that all persons on all sides of conflicts, whether delineated by geographic margins or markers of mindset, are responsible for human rights and the sanctity of human life.

In ‘Egla ‘arufa the persona paints a portrait of responsibility. She uses brushstrokes that picture herself in motion, lithely traversing cultural boundaries. She articulates the strongest brushstroke through a technique of postmodern poetics called ‘hermeneutic lag’. Her stratagem will be illustrated in the context of the poem ‘Egla ‘arufa. A literal translation of the title is ‘Neckbroken Heifer’. The poem is encrypted with an ancient Israelite rite of atonement.4 What begins as a ceremony of divestment of accountability for an anonymously slain civilian concludes as the shouldering of responsibility for circumstances that lead to loss of human life.

Chapter Four included several portraits of the persona’s ‘throat’ in varying states of constriction and release; the ‘throat’ visible in the self-portrait on view in this chapter is wide open and delivering a directive. More accurately this is the portrait of a ‘voice’: the voice of responsibility.

This chapter will examine the poem with an accent on the speaker’s technique and locus of self-portrayal. In the process the chapter will identify intertexts in Scriptures and halakhic midrash with which the poem sings. It will then return to a wider-angle view of the portrait of the voice of responsibility which is only fully revealed toward the end of the poem.

6.2 Speaking of Your Enemy’s Ass: Moral Bankruptcy

The poem ‘Egla ‘arufa pictures an unidentified fatally wounded man stumbling to the ground. He founders and ultimately expires. Body torn apart, blood flows from his flesh.

4 Deuteronomy 21:1-9 outlines the ceremony of ‘egla ‘arufa.

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Poetry swathes the poem’s infrastructure which draws faithfully on Deuteronomic detail for the scenario it depicts:

עגלה ערופה הָל ְַך עוֹד צַעַד הַָל ְך עוֹד כַּמָּה צְע ִ ָדים, נ ְ ָפלוּ לוֹ הַמִּשְׁקָפַיִם נָפְלָה לוֹ הַכִּפָּה. הָל ְַך עוֹד צַעַד ָ שׁטוּף בְּדָם, מוֹשׁ ְֵך רַגְלַיִם אַחֲרֵי עֲשָׂרָה צְע ִ ָדים כְּבָר לֹא יְהוּדִי לֹא עֲרָבִי, עַר ִ ְטילָאִי. ְ מהוּמַת א ִ ֱלֹהים; אֲנ ִ ָשׁים צוֹע ִ ֲקים; ָלמָּה אַתֶּם רוֹצ ִ ְחים ָ אוֹתנוּ? וַאֲח ִ ֵרים מ ְ ִתרוֹצ ִ ְצים מְמַה ִ ֲרים לַעֲשׂוֹת נְקָמָה. וְהוּא מְחַרְחֵר עַל ָ האָרֶץ גּוּף ָ ק ַרוּע, וְהַדָּם שׁוֹתֵת ִ מ ְתּוֹך הַבָּשָׂר. הַדָּם שׁוֹתֵת ִ מ ְתּוֹך הַבָּשָׂר. הוּא מֵת פֹּה אוֹ שָׁם אִי בּ ִ ְהירוּת יֶשְָׁנהּ פֹּה. מָה אֲנ ְ ַחנוּ יוֹד ִ ְעים? נִמְצָא חָלָל בַּשָּׂדֶה. אוֹמ ִ ְרים, ִ יִסּוּרים מְמָר ִ ְקים עָוֹן. אָדָם ְ כּאָבָק פּוֹר ֵַח, ְאַך מִי ה ִ ָאישׁ שֶׁכּ ְָך בִּב ִ ְדידוּת שָׁכַב מְעַלֵַּע אֶת דּ ָ ָמיו? מַה הוּא ָ ראָה מַה הוּא שָׁמַע ְ בּ ְתוך ה ְ ַמּהוּמָה מֵעָלָיו? וְיֵשׁ ָ האוֹמ ִ ְרים, חֲמוֹר שׂוֹנַא ֲָך עָזֹב תַּעֲזֹב ִ עמּוֹ.

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כִּי יִמָּצֵא חָלָל בַּשָּׂדֶה, כִּי יִמָּצֵא חָלָל בָּאֲדָמָה וְי ְ ָצאוּ זְקֵנ ֶָיך וְשָׁחֲטוּ עֶגְלָה וְאֶת אֶפְרָהּ בַּנַּחַל יְפַזְּ רוּ.5

‘Egla ‘arufa [‘Neckbroken Heifer’]

He took another step he took another few, off fell his glasses off fell his skullcap. He took another step drenched in blood, dragging his feet ten steps later no longer a Jew nor an Arab, amorphous.

God-tumult; people shouting; why are you murdering us? And others dashing about hurrying to take revenge.

And he is thrashing on the ground body torn, and blood flows from his flesh. The blood flows from his flesh.

He died here or there there is a lack of clarity in this instance. What do we know? A corpse was found in the field.

They say that tribulations purge sin. A person disperses like dust in the wind but who is the man who in such loneliness lay swallowing his blood? What did he see what did he hear in the commotion above him? And there are those who say,

5 Ravikovitch, “‘Egla ‘arufa,” Kol ha-shirim, 253-254.

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If it were your enemy’s ass Surely you must lend a hand.

In the event that a corpse be found in the field, in the event that a corpse be found on the ground your elders shall go out and slaughter a heifer and scatter its ashes in the wadi.

In the nineteen-eighties a yeshiva student was the victim of a fatal shooting in a marketplace in Hebron. No one attended to him as his lifeblood drained away. Onlookers of both sides of the Israeli/Palestinian divide believed him to be ‘other’ and treated him as though not their responsibility. He died in a pool of his own blood. The moral bankruptcy is appalling. The inertia is inexcusable. People behave more morally than this when they spy animals in distress. The speaker makes this point in a voice that quotes a truncated verse of Exodus. The full verse reads as follows:

כִּי תִרְאֶה חֲמוֹר שֹׂנַא ֲָך רֹבֵץ תַּחַת מ ָ ַשּׂאוֹ וְחָדַל ְָתּ מֵעֲזֹב לוֹ עָזֹב תַּעֲזֹב ִ עמּוֹ:6

When you see the ass of your adversary sprawled beneath its burden, and would be inclined to refrain from helping, you must nevertheless help.7

It is the least a compassionate person could do. In the event of a failure of compassion, the commandment of Exodus activates obligation.

The persona quotes from the same source in Exodus when she exerts herself as the voice of responsibility in a poem called Taryag mitzvot ve-’ahat [Six Hundred and

6 Exodus 23:5. 7 This is a loose translation of a complicated verse: Exodus 23:5. Rashi (loc. cit.) suggests that the words ‘azov ta‘azov are an expression related to helping [an expression we might expect to be based on the verb root ‘.z.r. as ‘azor ta‘azor]. Rashi suggests that we are to read the phrase bi-temiha. Loosely translated, that reading would be: “Would you actually refrain from helping it?!” Ibn Ezra (loc. cit.) suggests a different understanding altogether. He suggests that the onlooker has the responsibility to release the straps or cords so that the load falls to the sides of the animal, then – ve- hadalta – leave the animal to its own devices to rise to its feet. The JPS Tanakh translates the same verb ‘.z.r. in Nehemiah 3:34 as “restore” which is of assistance in suggesting appropriate readings of Exodus 23:5. We might understand the obligation in the verse to be to restore the beast of burden to its upright, functional, physically more comfortable status (Ibn Ezra), or to restore it to its owner, adversary status notwithstanding.

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Thirteen Commandments Plus One].8 In that poem the voice of responsibility decrees a new commandment with the authority of a rabbinic sage. As part of the prescribed consolation of mourners she imposes an obligation upon a deceased father, presumably her father who was killed in a fatal car accident. She obliges the deceased to return to his home to tell his offspring the details of his death in an attempt to allay their fears. He is to remain with them for the seven days of shiv‘a and to return to help them at propitious moments when grief overwhelms them.

The persona manipulates the phrasing of the biblical source to reflect that she includes herself among the mourners. At the same time she makes use of the basic wording of Exodus as if to say that it is the least a dead person could do:

שִׁבְעָה י ִ ָמים וְשָׁנִים ֵ אין - מִסְפָּר בְּכָל עֵת שֶׁיָּבוֹא ָ רצוֹן מִלְָּפנֵינוּ כָּל ֵ אימַת שֶׁהַצַּעַר יִגְבַּר עָלֵינוּ עָזֹב יַעֲזֹב ע ָ ִמּנוּ.

Seven days and countless years at any auspicious time whenever sorrow overwhelms us surely he must help us.

In other words the voice of responsibility turns the tables on the commandment of hesed shel ’emet – the ultimate act of compassion associated with burial of the dead. In the case of Taryag mitzvot ve-’ahat the voice of responsibility declares that it is incumbent upon deceased individuals to exhibit the ultimate compassion by consoling those who mourn for them.

In Deuteronomy there is a verse similar to the one in Exodus. Its appearance is almost adjacent to the scriptural material that outlines the ceremony of ‘egla ‘arufa and can hardly escape the attention of anyone perusing that segment of Torah text:

לֹא תִרְאֶה אֶת חֲמוֹר ִ אָח ָיך אוֹ שׁוֹרוֹ נֹפ ִ ְלים בַּדֶּר ְֶך וְהִתְעַלַּמ ְָתּ מֵהֶם הָקֵם תּ ִ ָקים ִ עמּוֹ:9

8 Ravikovitch, “Taryag mitzvot ve-’ahat,” Kol ha-shirim, 21-22. 9 Deuteronomy 22:4.

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If you see your fellow’s ass or ox fallen on the road, do not ignore it; you must help him raise it.10

The Deuteronomy text also contains a commandment to take work-strained or lost animals home and care for them until such time as one’s peer comes to claim them. As readers we understand this commandment intuitively as the responsible thing to do. The poet, nevertheless, initially chooses the Exodus text and skilfully strikes a choir of three to sing three-voice opera: the poem and Exodus sing with Deuteronomy’s vibrato emanating from offstage. In choosing to quote from the version in Exodus the voice heard in the poem emphasizes a jarring contrast: even the beast of burden of one’s enemy is to be treated more compassionately and more responsibly than the wounded person of the poem, who lies fallen, alone and absolutely unaided.

The quotation from Exodus, which takes readers familiar with Scriptures on a detour via Deuteronomy, is one of the portrait’s significant brushstrokes. It is among those which the speaker uses to cross cultural boundaries. She drifts from a peer’s beast of burden to an enemy’s beast of burden, from familiar compatriot to ‘other’ who ultimately becomes an amorphous human being, who cannot be defined in the binary terminology of ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’. His status is doubly ambiguous as a being hovering between life and death. The speaker continues to drift easily back and forth across such limens.

A human life is forfeit. Who is responsible? Who should atone? Everyone is and everyone should is the message encrypted in the poem, although not yet fully apparent.

6.3 ‘Egla ‘arufa – Ancient Israelite Ceremony of Atonement

The poem ties into an ancient Israelite ceremony called ‘egla ‘arufa – literally ‘neckbroken heifer’. The ceremony was enacted in ancient times as response to a situation in which a slain civilian was found dead, lying out in the open11 without any

10 JPS Tanakh, Deuteronomy 22:4. 11 Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 205 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 240. and related commentaries employ a series of delimitations to emphasize that the corpse in question is lying visibly exposed on

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identifying signs. It was carried out when there was no one to help trace the person who had inflicted the fatal wound.12

The rite of ‘egla ‘arufa is a biblically prescribed means of atonement for an unresolved manslaughter. The ceremony has its roots in Deuteronomy 21:1-9. Its legal details are amplified in Sifrei Deuteronomy 205-210. There were some very specific circumstances governing whether or not to initiate the ceremony.13 Its implementation was not taken lightly and in an effort not to do so unless warranted, the requirements for witnessing were different from those of capital cases in general.14 Eventually when more than a rare brazen killer was known to abound, ‘egla ‘arufa was rendered obsolete as the manslaughter would no longer be considered unattributed.15

the ground (Rabbenu Hillel, loc. cit.; not buried in a heap where one might be ‘less surprised’ to find a secreted body. This is the gist of an explanatory comment loc. cit. by Basser’s commentary to Sifrei Deut. in: Herbert W. Basser, ed. Pseudo-Rabad: Edited and Annotated According to Manuscripts and Citations (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1994); not suspended, nor cut down from being suspended from a tree; on dry land and not floating upon the waters. Henceforth: Basser, Pseudo-Rabad. 12 In a series of delimitations the halakhic midrash of Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 205 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 240 focuses the term halal used to refer to the slain individual. The related commentary of Toledot Adam, loc. cit., indicates that the reference is to one felled by a sword. The commentary of Penei Moshe on the related talmudic sugya in the Jerusalem Talmud, ySota, 9:1 23b-c, specifies that the reference is to an individual who is felled by iron implements, presumably used as weaponry, and not to one who was killed by strangulation. 13 The commentary of Rabbenu Hillel Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim 205 applies a second textual mention of halal to a fully expired body, no longer twitching. Testimony had to pertain to a corpse as a precondition for the implementation of the rite of ‘egla ‘arufa. 14 Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim pisqa 205 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 241 amplifies that the basic precondition to the enactment of ‘egla ‘arufa is scripturally established: it was not seen or known who smote the person. In capital cases, Jewish law usually requires two witnesses. As pertains to the initiation of ‘egla ‘arufa, even a single witness would overturn the precondition. Further, it was not necessary to establish the slayer’s exact identity, as is usually required in capital cases. According to Rabbi Akiva, it was sufficient for a witness to see, not necessarily identify, the one dealing the blow: it would render superfluous the formulaic statement regarding not having seen. For corroborating and further information, see also: yRosh ha-Shana, 3:1, 58c-d. 15 Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 205 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 240 clarifies that the rite of ‘egla ‘arufa was not enacted when murderers were known to be afoot; in fact the enactment of the ceremony was cancelled entirely when murderers were known to abound. Sifrei Deuteronomy indexes that juncture in time to the life and times of a known murderer. mSota 9:9 also identifies this known assailant with a series of nicknames, as his activities escalated from litigious to separatist to murderous

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The central elements of the ceremony are the breaking of a heifer’s neck,16 a practice against which our present-day sensibilities rebel, a formulaic Hebrew recitation appealing for atonement17 and hand washing.18

In rudimentary terms the mechanism for atonement is as follows. The elders of the city closest to the site where the corpse was discovered19 would choose a heifer20 and break its neck in a riverbed or wadi. They would proceed to wash their hands over the remains and invoke a formulaic Hebrew recitation: “Our hands have not shed this blood, neither have our eyes seen it”.21 They would request forgiveness for the unseen and unheard

16 Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 207 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 242. explains the method of neckbreaking from behind with the use of an implement called kofitz – a cleaver. 17 The saying is drawn from Deuteronomy 21:7: ֵ יָדינוּ לֹא (שפכה) [שׁ ְ ָפכוּ] אֶת הַדָּם הַזֶּה וְעֵינֵינוּ לֹא ָ ראוּ. Our hands did not spill this blood, neither did our eyes see. The declaration of the elders held the force of an avowal that the killer had not passed through their hands; had he, they would not have allowed him to leave them in the state that he was; that is, they would have provided the individual with his needs such as food (Midrash Tanna’im on Deuteronomy 21) so that he would not have felt pressed to kill. The Babylonian Talmud also speaks of the declaration of the elders as serving to excuse them in the hypothetical event that a slayer, in need of food, had not been brought to their attention for provision at their hand; it also excuses them from hypothetically not having seen him, affording him the opportunity to slip away unaccompanied (bSota 46b). 18 Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 209 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 243 designates the site for hand washing as the same riverbed where the neckbreaking was to take place. 19 Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 205 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 241 outlines that measurement was to be made from the corpse to the nearest city with a beit din – tribunal, other than Jerusalem. The city thus identified would be responsible for the human resources and the heifer to carry out the ceremony of ‘egla ‘arufa. There is discussion in Sifrei Deut. over the part of the anatomy of the victim from which to initiate the measurement. The resolution is from the hotam – the central part of the face that constitutes the point of recognition. 20 Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 206 Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 242 outlines a dispute over the age of this heifer. A one year old heifer was to be chosen in the opinion of Rabbi Eliezer. His view was legally accepted over that of the collectively represented voice of the Sages. 21 Deuteronomy 21:8. This is a translation of the Hebrew formula that the elders would recite in an antiphonal ceremony of ’amira and ‘anina – saying and responding.

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shedding of innocent blood and implore that it not remain among the people.22 Subsequently the elders would be considered cleared of their obligation.

The legal implication of the rite of ‘egla ‘arufa is that someone must take responsibility to make expiation. A plausible sociological inference is that someone must own the responsibility for atonement for not having been able to bring the assailant to justice on behalf of the deceased, for lack of having seen or heard what had transpired.

By law the ceremony was to take place in a wadi whose land had never been worked and should, in some legal opinions, remain forevermore unworked and unsown.23 Babylonian Talmud24 indicates that the sage Rabbi Yohanan ben Sha’ul notes the three- way metaphoric symmetry of the land’s unrealized fertility with that of the prescribed heifer, meaning a calf which had not yet bred, and that of the deceased who would not bear offspring, or further offspring as the case may be, nor multiply down through the generations.

Loosely translated in the text that follows, the sage asks and answers, “Why did the Torah stipulate that the heifer was to be brought to an unworked riverbed? The Holy One said, ‘Let one who has never borne fruit be brought forth and ‘neckbroken’ in a place that does not bear fruit in order to make expiation for the slaying of the one who was not granted the opportunity to bring forth fruit.’” The significance of the response pertains to unrealized fertility ‘to the power of three’.

In ‘Egla ‘arufa Ravikovitch instates the circumstances calling for the biblically established rite of ‘egla ‘arufa. As stated the poem opens with the image of a wounded individual out in the open, staggering to his death. En route he loses the accoutrements

22 The request is in accordance with the commandment of Deuteronomy 21:9 to put aside the ‘blood’: וְאַתָּה תְּבַעֵר הַדָּם הַנָּקִי מִקִּרְבּ ֶָך.

Koren Tanakh phrases the translation as follows, with the implication of ‘bloodguilt’: “Thus you will remove from your midst guilt for the blood of the innocent.” 23 Sifrei Deut. Parashat Shofetim, pisqa 207 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut.242; bSota 46b: see quoted baraita conveying a dispute over this matter between Rabbis Yoshiya and Yonatan. 24 bSota 46a.

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through which he sought signs of internal and external direction: his skull cap and his glasses. There is no mention of uniform or arms; this is a civilian, not a soldier. He is unmarked, as it were, stripped of identifying signs. He is no longer identifiable as either a Jew or as an Arab. He could easily be either. Losses of human life are sustained on either side of a cultural divide, whether in a conflict of attrition or an uphill battle against collectively held stereotypes and prejudices. Death does not distinguish. As he lies dying the individual is an amorphous, blood-soaked human being thrashing on the ground.

With a keen ear for the music of language Dahlia Ravikovitch ignites assonance for readers who hear the wording of Sifrei Deuteronomy, Parashat Shofetim 205 singing harmony to this poem’s melody. For the inception of ‘egla ‘arufa the body in question was to be motionless on the ground, not flailing or flapping in the air – mefarper. By contrast the dying man of the poem resists death on the ground. In an attempt to stave off the impending motionless state he thrashes – meharher. Ravikovitch deploys assonance to choreograph a covert pas de deux for the two texts: Sifrei Deuteronomy and her poem. In thrashing about, the dying man is pictured as though striving with the land. Unfortunately, far too much of his blood mingles with the dust of the earth. He expires.

6.4 Escaping Lifeblood: Fragility of Life and Airborne Particles

Beyond the ceremony of the ‘neckbroken heifer’ there are additional elements in the poem that relate to Scriptures. One is the doubled mention of the deceased’s escaping blood. It reverberates with the blood mentioned in at least two biblical sources. One is in Genesis; another is in Ezekiel.

One triggers a connection with Genesis and recalls the first recorded instance of the taking of a life. There God reports to Cain that the blood of his slain brother Abel cries out from the ground:

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קוֹל דְּמֵי ִ אָח ָיך צֹע ִ ֲקים אֵלַי מִן הָאֲדָמָה:25

The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to me from the earth.

In the midrashic imagination the blood that cries out to God is so copious that it is spattered all over the trees and the stones.26

Rabbi Yudan’s understanding of the term demei, a plural bound phrase constructed from the collective form for the word ‘blood’ – damim, indicates references to both the blood of the deceased and the blood of his descendants.27 The reference to descendants signifies the never-to-be-born or ‘pre-slain’ descendants of the deceased. The speaker of the poem is protesting the shedding of innocent damim – exponential blood. This is a situation of blood ‘to the power of two’, as it were,28 and the consequent unfruitfulness brings it to blood ‘to the power of three’.29 This civilian’s blood is escaping and his descendants’ blood is escaping. Both leave his body and seep into the land.

The doubled mention of the deceased’s escaping blood triggers a second intertextual connection to an extended metaphor in the book of Ezekiel. Here God portrays care of newborn-Jerusalem lying out in the open field. She is abandoned in the blood of her own afterbirth. There is nobody to attend to her, swaddle her or raise her. God steps in to nurture her and in a double mention of blood recalls:

וָאֶעֱבֹר עָל ְַיִך וָאֶרְא ְֵך מ ְ ִתבּוֹסֶסֶת בְּדָמ ְָיִך וָאֹמַר ל ְָך בְּדָמ ְַיִך חֲיִי וָאֹמַר ל ְָך בְּדָמ ְַיִך חֲיִי:30

25 Genesis 4:10. 26 This homiletical material is found as a parenthetical interpolation in the legal material of mSanhedrin 4:5 whose main focus is the admonishment of witnesses in capital cases regarding the gravity of their responsibility. The same material is quoted in: bSanhedrin 37a; ySanhedrin 4:11, 22a Pesiqta zutreta on Genesis 4:10. 27 Genesis Rabba, Parasha 22: 9-10 in Albeck, Genesis Rabba, Vol. 2, 216. As well, Targum Onkelos for Genesis 4:10 reflects a midrashic stance that the blood crying out to God was that of the future descendants of slain Abel. 28 Rabbi Yudan in Genesis Rabba, Parasha 22:9-10 in Albeck, Genesis Rabba, Vol. 2, 216. 29 Rabbi Yohanan ben Sha’ul in bSota 46a. 30 Ezekiel 16:6.

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When I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your own blood I said to you: ‘Live in spite of your blood.’ Yea I said to you, ‘Live in spite of your blood.’31

The extended metaphor in Ezekiel portrays the relationship of care and love that flourishes between God and Jerusalem and eventually blossoms into a covenantal bond. Whereas foundling Jerusalem was rescued by God from the blood that gave her life, the individual in the poem is foundering in the pooling blood which will bring him death. Not a single soul will care for him, love him, espouse his plight or come to his physical rescue. Whereas the abandoned infant was lying out in the open far from the eye of human compassion, the dying civilian draws a crowd. In the scenario of reality from which the poem grew, the dying student lay in a crowded marketplace surrounded by scores of pairs of unseeing eyes.

Through recourse to Scriptures, as well as legal and aggadic midrash, the poem is encoded with the details of the ceremony of the ‘neckbroken heifer’. As well, the speaker succeeds in conveying the fragility of life and the appalling lack of human compassionate treatment through ‘multiply-escaping’ lifeblood.

The encryption of several strengthening elements of classical Jewish sources further emphasize the delicacy of mortality. Two in particular tie into the motif of dust – ’avaq. Both hover in the poem as the dying man expires in the dust. One is a liturgical refrain that underscores the fleeting nature of human life: “’adam ke-’avaq poreah” referring to a person’s life which dissipates like dust in the wind.32

A second strengthening element contributes to the message of life’s fragility by beckoning intertextual resonance based in the biblical account of creation. Reverberations of the creatio ex nihilo of the father of Cain and Abel make themselves

31 Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Ezekiel 16:6. 32 See: “U-netane toqef,” High Holiday Prayerbook, ed. Morris Silverman (New York: The Prayer Book Press, 1967) 145-147, 355-357. The Hebrew phrasing matches that of the U-netane toqef prayer in the Jewish High Holy Day liturgy. It is inserted into the chain of blessings comprising the musaf repetition of the ‘amida. U-netane toqef is attributed in folk tradition to Rabbi Amnon of Mayence who died as a martyr, with the words of this prayer on his lips.

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heard in the wording: Adam, the first human being, was created from the dust of the earth. ‘Dust’ yet again insinuates its existence here as ’afar. Its presence in the poem is reminiscent of the mortality meted out to Adam in consequence for having succumbed to the temptation to taste the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. It too involves dust –’afar:

כִּי עָפָר אַתָּה וְאֶל עָפָר ָ תּשׁוּב:33

For dust you are and to dust shall you return.34

With intertextual reverberations of blood and dust the poem underscores the fragile mortality of the wounded man. There are additional intertextual duets within classical Jewish sources yet to examine. I shall return to a consideration of these following a look at the poem’s intersection with a classic of the early modern Hebrew canon of poetry.

6.5 Intertextual Nexus in the Canon of Modern Hebrew Poetry: Between Bialik and Ravikovitch

Further to the consideration of blood and dust, this segment considers the interplay of Ravikovitch’s poem and a poem by Bialik. The poetry of H. N. Bialik, respectfully known as the poet laureate of Israel, is regarded as a keystone of the canon of early modern Hebrew poetry. ‘Al ha-shehita is set in the aftermath of the Kishinev pogroms which were perpetrated in the capital of Bessarabia at the conclusion of Passover, the nineteenth and twentieth of April, 1903. Avner Holtzman, who recently published an historical anthology of Bialik’s poetry, comments as follows:

The bold emblematic character of the exclamations which permeate the poem have caused a phenomenon whereby many of its lines (such as; […] or ‘Revenge like that, revenge for the blood of a little boy / has not yet been created by Satan’) have been etched into the collective psyche of readers of Hebrew and its speakers, and

33 Genesis 3:19. 34 Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Genesis 3:19.

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are repeatedly quoted to this day in an assortment of actual contexts by the mouths of many who are not even aware of their source.35

Ravikovitch is mindful of the poetry of her predecessors and colleagues and applies artistic finesse to conscious gleanings from their magna opera. The question of ‘revenge’ raised in one of Bialik’s lines, notably one singled out by Holtzman as frequently quoted, echoes in ‘Egla ‘arufa in the speaker’s report of the reactions of the onlookers:

God-tumult; people shouting; why are you murdering us? And others scampering hurrying to take revenge.

In ‘Egla ‘arufa echoes of revenge come through directly in the wording. Left unarticulated are echoes of reproach in that no such revenge could possibly suffice for the extinguished life of a civilian. In his poem, Bialik introduces the wretchedness of that impossibility directly with:

וְאָרוּר ָ האוֹמֵר: נְקֹם!36

Cursed is the one who says: Revenge!

A phenomenon of both articulated presence and evoked presence adheres to Bialik’s bold lines which dare the Heavens to intercede and Justice to appear at once in the face of his estrangement from God:

שָׁמַיִם, בּ ְ ַקּשׁוּ רַח ִ ֲמים עָלָי! אִם-יֵשׁ בָּכֶם אֵל וְלָאֵל בָּכֶם נ ִ ָתיב- וַאֲנִי לֹא מ ָ ְצ ִ אתיו- הִתְפּ ְ ַלּלוּ אַתֶּם עָלָי! התפללו אתם עלי! [...] וְאִם יֵשׁ - צֶדֶק- יוֹפַע מִיָּד!37

35 A translation of a comment by Avner Holtzman in: Hayyim Nahman Bialik: Ha-shirim, ed. Avner Holtzman (Tel Aviv: Devir, 2004) 248. 36 H.N. Bialik, “‘Al ha-shehita,” Kol Shirei Hayyim Nahman Bialik (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1973) 152-153, l. 22. Henceforth: Bialik, Kol Shirei Bialik.

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Heavens, beg mercy on my behalf! If God be in your midst, and a path to God – Yet I have not found it – Pray Ye for me!

[…]

And if there is Justice – let it appear at once!

Ravikovitch, who seldom makes direct mention of God in her poetry, does so in ‘Egla ‘arufa. Bialik is not sure whether God is ‘home’ and dares the Heavens and Justice to intervene in God’s stead; when push comes to shove, Ravikovitch does acknowledges God’s presence, albeit with a focus on God’s uneasy response to the violence. Like the sound of someone shifting uncomfortably in a chair, the God-tumult is inefficacious. There is no point in the poet daring the human beings on the ground to intervene: they just add to the commotion. In the confusion of the victim’s living or dead status, Ravikovitch also writes of the confusion between those who adopt victim status asking, “Why are you murdering us?” and those who rush to take revenge.

With her virtuoso’s ear for linguistic detail, Ravikovitch incorporates additional elements that interface with Bialik’s poem ‘Al ha-shehita. Her title, ‘Egla ‘arufa, builds upon the rhetorical dare of Bialik’s speaker to the executioner to break his neck like a dog: ‘orpeni ka-kelev. Ravikovitch magnifies his imperative which utilizes ‘.r.f., the same verb root for ‘arufa

עָרְפֵנִי כַּכֶּלֶב, ל ְָך זְ ַרֹע עִם - ק ְ ַרדֹּם וְכָל- ָ האָרֶץ לִי ג ְ ַרדֹּם - 38

Break my neck like a dog, your arm wields an axe, The entire earth is my gallows –

An additional intertextual connection of the poems by Bialik and Ravikovitch is related to the hopeless insufficiency of revenge for the shedding of innocent blood. This instance is expressed starkly as the blood of both victims, like that of biblical Abel, seeps into the

37 Bialik, Kol Shirei Bialik, 152-153, ll. 1-4; 15. 38 Bialik, Kol Shirei Bialik, 152-153, ll. 9-10.

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earth. Bialik is austere and devastatingly direct about the blood and its powerful effects upon the earth:

וְיִקֹּב הַדָּם אֶת - ה ְ ַתּהוֹם! יִקֹּב הַדָּם עַד ְ תּהֹמוֹת מַחֲשׁ ִ ַכּים, וְאָכַל ַ בּ ֶחֹש ְך וְחָתַר שָׁם כָּל - ְ מוֹסדוֹת ָ האָרֶץ הַנְּמ ִ ַקּים.39

May the blood rot the abyss! Let the blood penetrate to the darkest depths, And consume in darkness and undermine there All the rotting foundations of the earth.

Intertextually speaking, Ravikovitch engineers a subterranean conduit. The bloodshed and injustices of Middle Eastern conflicts of attrition and ‘othering’ encounter the bloodshed and injustices of eastern European pogroms in the depths of the earth. Concealed there, they consume the world’s core in darkness, silently rotting the foundations of the earth.

6.6 Empathy for an Unwitting Victim: Additional Intertexts in Classical Jewish Sources

Among the reactions of the onlookers to the dying man and his situation are wordings and phrases that evoke additional biblical and rabbinic intertexts. One is a muttering of yissurim memareqim ‘avon, connoting a notion that tribulations purge sin. This notion exists as a concept in biblical commentary40 and the literature of the sages. An example of the latter appears in a context related to God’s sovereignty over the land of Israel.41 A case may be built to connect the poem’s setting of bloodshed on the land to that

39 Bialik, Kol Shirei Bialik, 152-153, ll. 25-29. 40 For an example of a biblical connection see the commentary of Radaq on Isaiah 4 2. Radaq interprets the lemma “ba-yom ha-hu” as referring to a time after which God will have purged Israel’s wrongdoings through trials and tribulations. He identifies that time as the time of a future redemption by a messiah of the Davidic lineage, referred to as Tzemah – tribute to this individual’s heralding of an era of flourishing growth through redemption. 41 For example, see bSanhedrin 39a regarding Ezekiel who suffered tribulations on Israel’s behalf in order to purge Israel’s wrongdoings. Ultimately the situation is portrayed in the expression of God’s goal to ensure that the people of Israel recognize that the land belongs to God in perpetuity. See: Va- yiqra 25:23.

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context. Alternately, a case may be made to leave the maxim to stand at face value, corresponding to the surface level at which it is spoken: it is uttered here as an anonymous platitude. It is spoken in a gratuitous manner, as platitudes are, and is altogether ambiguous in terms of attribution: the source of the sin is left indistinct as is the object of the tribulations. The maxim functions as one of those adages which ‘they say’: the ubiquitous, unidentified ‘they’. ‘They’ are the ones who are never susceptible to being pinned down in order to be held accountable and responsible for anything that ‘they’ do or ‘they’ say. It is spoken and heard anonymously by unnamed onlookers and as ‘replay’ in the speaker’s head.

The ambiguous platitude of unidentified onlookers parallels the anonymous identity of the by-now-deceased individual whom the poem has declared a corpse:

He died here or there there is a lack of clarity in this instance. What do we know? A corpse was found in the field.

The recognizable hallmarks of the unattributed slaying of this ‘unidentified civilian’ ‘found in the field’ constitute motivation for the initiation of the rite of the ‘neckbroken heifer’. News of the occurrence spreads to the people shouting and dashing about, and the identity of the deceased passes into the realm of conjecture:

but who is the man who in such loneliness lay swallowing his blood?

This natural fascination, phrased as mi ha-’ish – “who is the man […]?” calls to mind a biblical intertext. The question evokes a segment of Torah text composed of a series of situations, each introduced by that question. It has the force of the question “Is there anyone who …?” The situations are recorded in Deuteronomy 20, the chapter which precedes the commandments concerning ‘egla ‘arufa. Each instance of mi ha-’ish corresponds to an easement for certain men in event of war. If called to arms, these men are permitted to return home lest they die before fulfilling particular

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commandments and experiencing specific ‘firsts’ in life. These men are: the man who has built a new home but not yet dedicated it;42 the man who has planted a vineyard but not yet tasted its fruit;43 and the man who has betrothed a woman but not yet celebrated with her a consummation of the union.44 The same question applies to any man who is fearful and disheartened; he too is to return home in order not to affect the morale of those who must do battle:

[...] מִי ה ִ ָאישׁ הַיָּרֵא וְר ְַך הַלֵּבָב יֵל ְֵך וְיָשֹׁב ל ֵ ְביתוֹ וְלֹא יִמַּס אֶת לְבַב א ָ ֶחיו כִּל ָ ְבבוֹ:45

Is there anyone fearful and disheartened? Let him return to his home lest his brethren’s courage melt like his heart.46

The instance of “who is the man” in Ravikovitch’s poem points to an individual about whom, sadly, nobody really knows anything or cares. For readers who hear the poem singing back and forth with Deuteronomy 20, it is heartbreaking to think that the man might have died without having had the opportunity to attend to certain obligations, nor enjoy any number of ‘firsts’. It is even more painful to think that this civilian was doubly ambushed, not consciously prepared to do battle over anything, nor expecting to have war waged against himself, no matter the disposition of his courage and demeanour of his heart.

The question “who is the man?” also sparks an allusion to Psalms 34:

מִי ה ִ ָאישׁ הֶחָפֵץ חַיִּים אֹהֵב י ִ ָמים ל ְ ִראוֹת טוֹב: [...] בַּקֵּשׁ ָ שׁלוֹם וְרָדְפֵהוּ:47

42 Deuteronomy 20:5. 43 Deuteronomy 20:6. 44 Deuteronomy 20:7. 45 Deuteronomy 20:8. 46 Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Deuteronomy 20:8. 47 Psalms 34:3-15.

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Who is the man who is eager for life, who desires years of good fortune? […] seek peace and pursue it.48

It is distressing to think that the civilian of the poem, perhaps an individual devoted to long life in pursuit of peace, was felled by someone bearing implements of war. From such intertextual engagements, readers get a deep sense of what grieves the persona.

The poem boasts a purview of vertical optics which direct glances upward and downward, above and below. Within that visual range the persona positions the readers in an empathetic posture on the ground, looking upward and listening in order to try to relate to the experience of the dying man:

but who is the man who in such loneliness lay swallowing his blood? What did he see what did he hear in the commotion above him?

In a manoeuvre to simulate onomatopoetic identification with the wounded man, the speaker manipulates reader pronunciation. The words me‘ale‘a – ‘swallowing’, and me- ‘alav – ‘above him’ require alternating closure of the lips and opening of the back of the throat in order to pronounce the phonemes dictated by the repeated consonant mem and guttural ‘ayin. The result is an approximation of choking back a thick liquid. That the man died alone aspirating his own blood, in addition to the rest of the circumstances, is unbearable.

The speaker, deeply distressed on behalf of the man dying “in such loneliness”, manages to turn back the clock by a few moments to get the readers to lie down next to him on the ground, to stay by his side, to attempt to see what he sees, hear what he

48 Translation based on JPS Tanakh, Psalms 34:13-15.

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hears and choke back the blood on his behalf. People commanded to assist even their enemy’s beast of burden should, at the very least, manage this empathetic gesture.

6.7 Defamiliarization in the Dénouement

Amid the transience and fragility of life, the poem reaches its final stanza and restores attention to the ceremony of the ‘neckbroken heifer’:

In the event that a corpse be found in the field, in the event that a corpse be found on the ground your elders shall go out and slaughter a heifer

The repetition in the stanza’s opening two lines and the closeness of their wording to that of the originating ‘neckbroken heifer’ text in Deuteronomy lull us into a sense of dénouement. We see that we are one line away from the ‘finish line’, and prepare for the sensation of closure. We feel certain that it will be delivered in the voice of the elders, intoning the formulaic recitation in appeal for atonement. With resignation, we await the anticipated release from responsibility. And then we read:

your elders shall go out and slaughter a heifer and scatter its ashes in the wadi.

Then and there the speaker pulls a poetic punch. Almost imperceptibly she destabilizes the text. Suddenly the ‘contextual determinacy’ is gone. We notice that something has happened when they reach the last line but do not quite grasp what has happened, or even when or where it happened in the poem. Eventually we realize we are dealing with a ‘heifer of a different colour’.

The clues that there has been a transition reveal themselves in a pair of slight shifts. One shift is evident in a blurring that takes place in the closing of the poem: there the neck-breaking has been blurred to slaughtering. They are not one and the same. A second shift is present in the reference to fine airborne particles. Previously the poem mentioned ’avaq – dust and our active literary memory dredged up ‘afar – ‘dust’ as well, as in: “from dust to dust” in association with Adam of Genesis. Now the poem makes

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mention of ’eifer – ashes in the form of a bound construct: ’efrah.49 The question is: what ashes? And these are not just any ashes, rather ’efrah, meaning its ashes, her ashes – the heifer’s ashes; but there are no ashes in the ‘egla ‘arufa ceremony. The hapless heifer’s neck is broken and it is then buried in the unsown riverbed.

This second shift is ensconced in the dimensions of the language that the poet chooses and uses. This is the shift that undermines the ‘dust’ initially embedded in the poem, and turns it to ‘ashes’. This is an instance of Ravikovitch’s use of language to undermine Language, much like the poet Paul Célan uses music to undermine Music in poems such as Deathfugue.50 By implanting this undermining component of postmodern poetics in the dimensions of her poetry Ravikovitch seals and unseals the secrets that her poems whisper. By ensuring that elements of her poems are resistant to ‘fixity’ of meaning, Ravikovitch’s poetry retains inexhaustible reservoirs of secrets.51

Upon considering the shifts it eventually dawns on us as readers: this is no longer the neckbroken heifer of Deuteronomy; this is the red heifer of the book of Numbers.52 This alternate rite, namely the rite of the red heifer, pertains to discharging responsibility for ritual impurity. This alternate ancient Israelite ceremony involved the use of the specially prepared ashes of the red heifer. The preparation involved burning the red heifer together with cedar wood, hyssop and wool dyed scarlet. The ashes, and any other remains of the preparation, were reduced to a fine powder, and combined with running water from a natural source. The mixture was used, mainly, for the ritual purification of

49 Despite the difference in the initial letter and vowel, the word ’efrah meaning ‘her ashes’, sounds close to ‘afar with a suffix. The word ‘afar – meaning dust has been heard in the poem and still reverberates in the ears of listeners. The effect is a subtle, barely discernible transition. 50 Paul Célan, “Deathfugue,” transl. John Felstiner, Paul Célan: Poet, Survivor, Jew (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1995), 31-32. Célan destabilizes the high culture of the musical fugue with the music Jews were ordered by the Nazis to play as their peers were digging their own graves. He uses the macabre discord of death-music to undermine the presumed gentility of classical music. 51 Jacques Derrida observes in the context of the ‘sealing and unsealing’ of poems that “The possibility of a secret always remains open, and this reserve inexhaustible.” See: Jacques Derrida, “Poetics and Politics of Witnessing,” 67. 52 Numbers 19:1-9.

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individuals who had become impure through contact with a corpse, or by being in the same enclosed space as death.53

In deftly shifting heifers Ravikovitch’s speaker lithely traverses a boundary. She floats through an almost imperceptible membrane from the divestment of responsibility to an assumption of liability. She glides from casting off second-hand ownership of the shedding of innocent blood by an unknown assailant, to the assumption of first-hand responsibility for ritual impurity incurred by consorting with death.

The defamiliarization actually occurs in the space between the poem’s last two lines. It takes place in that instant when we notice we are lost in the reading, then reorient ourselves on new terms but do not yet fully understand the route we have navigated. In that instant the carpet has been pulled out from beneath our feet. We are suspended over the proverbial abyss54 until we can seize upon another ‘under-standing’ of the poetic voice singing

6.8 Another Understanding: Hermeneutic Lag

Another understanding requires readers to exert an exegetical effort. We need to locate significance and need to interpret, but there’s a lag while we get our bearings. Marjorie Perloff coins a term for this dynamic or poetic in language. She calls it “hermeneutic lag”.55 In poetry’s linguistic context Marjorie Perloff uses the term ‘hermeneutic lag’ to

53 A portion of the mixture was to be kept as a remembrance in the wall of the women’s court of the temple in Jerusalem. See: Chaim Richman, The Mystery of the Red Heifer: Divine Promise of Purity (Jerusalem: Chaim Richman 1997, 1998, 2005). 54 The philosopher Martin Heidegger develops an extended metaphoric concept that the purpose of poets is to sing songs of the world’s darkest hours. He writes of these ‘songs of the abyss’ in: Martin Heidegger, “What Are Poets For?” Poetry, Language, Thought, (New York: Perennial Classics, 2001; originally published New York: Harper and Row, 1971) 87-140. 55 Marjorie Perloff, “Signs are Taken for Wonders: On Steve McCaffery’s ‘Lag’.” Contemporary Poetry Meets Modern Theory, eds. Antony Easthope and John O. Thompson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1991) 114. Henceforth: “Lag.”

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refer to abrupt dislocations of meaning that occur when the language of a poem suddenly shifts gears.56

The dislocation of meaning and the accompanying shift in referentiality occur somewhere between the last two lines of Ravikovitch’s poem. There is a moment of ‘hermeneutic lag’: a moment in which the readers grope for understanding, and not just of meaning. We scramble to make sense of the “narrative of undermine”.57 There is a need to fathom that which took place during the lag. It is in this space that Ravikovitch both seals and unseals her poem. It is in this space that whispered essence can be discerned.

Ravikovitch makes use of the lag as the space within which to topple encrypted meaning. It is the space within which she protests threats to personal rights and existence. Those threats include the apparent and unfortunate ‘limitation’ of love in the matter of humane treatment of human beings and their lives. Such threats escalate when people disagree over boundaries, whether physical, metaphysical, existential, cultural or otherwise.

In the lag manufactured in ‘Egla ‘arufa, the speaker situates her voice of remonstration. She is practically shouting at the top of her lungs that there is no such thing as atonement for an unattributed slaying. Nobody is exempt. Every human being is decidedly ‘on the hook’. What begins as a ceremony of divestment of accountability for an anonymous manslaughter, concludes as the shouldering of responsibility for attitudes that lead to loss of human life. In the lag manufactured in ‘Egla ‘arufa, the speaker paints the portrait of her voice of responsibility.

56 Marjorie Perloff refers specifically to the poet Steve McCaffery who laces his renowned poem, Lag, with unsettling prepositions. He employs these linguistic shifters to project meaning cataphorically and anaphorically, continually destabilizing the text: Perloff, “Lag,” 108-115. 57 This pithy encapsulation was coined by Peter Quartermain to describe the shifts of referentiality that abound in the works of Gertrude Stein in: Peter Quartermain, “A Narrative of Undermine: Gertrude Stein’s Multiplicity,” Disjunctive poetics: from Gertrude Stein and Louis Zukofsky to Susan How (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1992) 21-43.

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6.9 Summary: Voice of Responsibility

Ravikovitch employs the technique of ‘hermeneutic lag’ as a literary enterprise to voice challenge to the boundaries and systems of her cultural milieu. She works her subversion from within.58 She operates within the system of classical Jewish texts and law, employing Scriptures and legal midrash to undermine the same. Ultimately the speaker makes use of one ancient Israelite ceremony to dislodge the authoritative clout of another. The voice calls for the assumption of responsibility, not its divestment. Assumption of responsibility at the collective level entails the manifestation of humane love at the collective level. While the previous self-portraits were connected to the lovelorn persona’s personal experience of love in dissatisfying proportions, this portrait is linked to her observations regarding a demonstrated and marked lack of love in social, socio-political and cross-cultural arenas.

The persona paints her portrait in this poem as the voice of responsibility. It is from within the non-life-threatening space of ‘hermeneutic lag’ that she enunciates and poses challenge. She undermines the notion that expiation can be made for civilian lives lost in daily struggles for existence and instances of ‘othering’. She makes it known that all human beings on each side of a conflict or boundary are responsible for human rights and the sanctity of human life. ‘All’ includes national elders, religious elders, military elders and states people. ‘All’ includes everyday mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, lovers and partners and mentors: in short, anyone who contributes to shaping mentality and therefore to shaping future. Ravikovitch’s shaping medium is poetry with its capacity to breathe life in every language and potential to traverse cultural boundaries without incurring fatalities.

58 Linda Hutcheon notes that postmodernism is a cultural enterprise that “works within the very systems it attempts to subvert […]” See: Linda Hutcheon, A Poetics of Postmodernism (New York and London: Routledge, 1988) 4. Emphasis added.

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Chapter Seven Summoning Memory and Deliberate Forgetting 7.1 Preamble

The previous chapter showed a portrait of a voice of responsibility speaking with regard to the sanctity of human life. In sounding her vocal cords of poetry the persona lithely traverses cultural boundaries without incurring fatalities. In drifting effortlessly through the translucent membranes that divide mindsets, the persona seeks to shape a global mentality of responsibility and reverence for human life. This chapter shows a portrait of the poet engaged in the writing process on both the individual and collective levels, with a focus on memory. On the collective level she seeks a memory whose attributes have bearing on humanitarian issues. On the personal level she seeks a memory whose scope permits her both access to the details of a particular memory and the luxury to let them fade away.

This self-portrait will be examined through the lens of the poem Zikkaron tamim [A Pure

Memory; Pure Memory; A Whole Memory; An Intact Memory; A Perfect Memory]:1

זכרון תמים רַק כְּשֶׁהַפָּנִים נִמ ָ ְחקוֹת אֶפְשָׁר לִזְ כֹּר פֹּה דָבָר בִּשְׁלֵמוּתוֹ, רַק כְּשֶׁהַפָּנִים נִמ ָ ְחקוֹת. ָ וְהאוֹרוֹת מ ְ ִשׁתּוֹל ִ ְלים וְהַצְּב ִ ָעים חוֹרְגִים מִמִּסְגָּרוֹת. כּוֹכ ִ ָבים ִ צוֹנְחים מ ְ ִמּקוֹמָם ְ כּמוֹ ִ חוֹלים נִכ ִ ְפּים. ִדּשׁ ִ ָאים מִן ָ האָרֶץ נֶאֱנ ִ ָקים (כְּאֵב צ ִ ְמיחָתָם גָּדוֹל מֵחֶבְלֵי הַכּ ִ ְמישָׁה).

1 Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch translate the title as “Pure Memory” in: Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Bloch, The Window, 52. Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld translate the title as “A Pure Whole Memory” in: Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 137.

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כָּל הַדְּב ִ ָרים שֶׁטּ ִ ָחים אֶת עֵינֵינוּ נְסוֹגִים אֶל הַצְּל ִ ָלים, וְגַם הַפָּנִים. מ ֶ ַשּׁהוּ זָע בַּמַּעֲמ ִ ַקּים. כַּמָּה י ִ ָמים כַּמָּה שָׁנִים, סוּפוֹת וּרְעָמִים ח ִ ִכּינוּ לָזֶה שׁ ְ ֶיִּפרֹץ ֵ מעֹמֶק הָאֲדָמָה, ָ זִכּרוֹן אֶחָד תּ ִ ָמים כְּפֶרַח שׁוֹשָׁן אָדֹם בּ ִ ָהיר.2

Pure Memory

Only when the faces are blotted out is it possible to remember anything here in its entirety only when the faces are blotted out. And then the lights go wild and the colours burst their frames. Stars plummet from their places like epileptics. From the earth grasses groan (the ache of their growth greater than pain of withering).

Everything that obscures our vision retreats into the shadows, the faces too. Something stirs in the depths.

How many days, how many years, storms and thunderbolts have we waited for a single pure memory to burst forth from the depths of the earth, like a lily bright red.3

2 Ravikovitch, “Zikkaron tamim,” Kol ha-shirim 161. 3 The choices of “blotted out”, “Then the lights go wild”, “Something stirs in the depths” correspond to the turns of phrase in the translation of Chana Bloch and Ariel Bloch in: Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Bloch, The Window, 52. The remainder is the translation that I favour. For example, I prefer the translation of “lily” to Bloch and Bloch’s “poppy” for the Hebrew shoshan. The term shoshan or “lily” sparks a desirable allusion to the lilies of the Song of Songs, where lilies abound: the female lover of the Song of Songs is likened by her beloved to a lily (2:2); the female lover likens the lips of her

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A key expression, zikkaron tamim - memory described as tamim, functions as the key to this self-portrait. At first glance zikkaron tamim connotes a ‘pure or ‘perfect’ memory, one that is wholly intact. This chapter investigates the contextual sense of this expression. Its occurrence at the apex of the poem begs the following questions. Just what is a ‘pure’ or ‘perfect’ memory? Does such a memory exist?

This chapter will outline and bring to bear findings of a Hebrew and Aramaic semantic range study that I conducted in order to explore the scope and implications of the word tamim. Two in particular strain against one another: ‘entirely completed’ and ‘entirely depleted’. I will investigate their function in the context of the poem and reflect on their implications for memory.

On the collective level it will be argued that through linguistic encryption of multiple nuances, the persona of Ravikovitch’s oeuvre conveys a strong message in Zikkaron tamim: only when collectively held profiling of Israel’s ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’ yields to the precedence of human rights, do disparate groups claiming Israel as their own hold any hope of generating future memories: memories that may spring forth from the earth like lilies: exquisitely formed, vividly colourful, and perfectly whole.

On the individual level it will be similarly argued that by investing the term zikkaron tamim with multiple nuances, the persona writes her angst over personal memories of childhood trauma. Their tension can only be eased to the point of ‘bearable’ when she is either charged with eros or occupied with her writing process. She paints herself engaged in the latter pursuit in Zikkaron tamim. Through her writing process, she seeks a tolerable daily construct of consciousness: one that will allow her to function somewhere along the continuum that stretches between fully remembering and completely forgetting.

beloved to lilies dripping with myrrh (5:13); the beloved she seeks has gone down to browse among the lilies (6:2), an so forth. The Song of Songs, as shown previously in this study, is an intertext of choice for the speaker of the poems who indentifies, in a number of self-portraits, with the female lover of the Song of Songs, especially in affairs of the heart. I prefer the translation of “bright red” for the flower colour noted as ’adom bahir, rather than Bloch and Kronfeld’s choice of “pale red”; “bright” colour accords with the speaker’s need for sudden bursts of beauty and colour to distract her from the aches of daily life. See Chapter 3, particularly regarding Shir shel hesberim.

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7.2 Descent into the Writing Process: Vertical Descent and Sensory Acuity; Factoring in Features and Blotting Out Faces

In Zikkkaron tamim the speaker begins by elaborating her familiar descent into the writing process. It is the one that characterizes her preferred mode for the writing of bios. For her, writing through ‘conscious consciousness’ involves crystal clear awareness as shown in Chapter Four: “Then it will all pass, and you’ll be pure crystal.”4 Just as she yearns for an astonishing flowering of bright colour, as in Shir shel hesberim,5 and craves concentrated essence as in Portret,6 in Zikkaron tamim the speaker thirsts for a ‘pure’ memory. She paints her portrait as summoning this kind of memory on both the personal and collective levels.

As noted in Chapter Four there are two integral phenomena which presage the persona’s fruitful bouts of writing. One involves a heightening of sensory perception; a second entails vertical descent. Chapter Four shows, for example, that the persona conveys heightened sensory perception in brushstrokes depicting walls growing taller and colours gaining in intensity.7 The same chapter also shows that the speaker paints a vertical sweep from the uppermost edges of those walls downward toward the subterranean blue depth-of-a-well. I note both phenomena in Zikkaron tamim as well.

In her heightened sensory state the speaker perceives that the “lights go wild.” She also detects nascent energy in the adjacent paintings of her metaphoric gallery of self- portraits: she remarks their strokes of colour audaciously overrunning the strongholds of their frames and spreading beyond their bounds: “and the colours burst their frames.”8

4 Ravikovitch, “Surely You Remember,” transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 111. 5 Ravikovitch, “Shir shel hesberim,” Kol ha-shirim, 193-194. 6 Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137. 7 Ravikovitch, “’’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116. 8 This wording is similar to that of Psalms 18:46, translated in JPS Tanakh as: “foreign peoples lose courage, and come trembling out of their strongholds.” בְּנֵי נֵכָר יִבֹּלוּ וְיַח ְ ְרגוּ מִמִּסְגְּ ֵ רוֹתיהֶם:

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The speaker uses a similar turn of phrase in a poem called Simanim [Signs] that bespeaks acute sensory awareness on the part of the persona as she tries to settle into her writing:

כְּשׁ ַ ֶהכּוֹס נוֹפֶלֶת, ר ִ ְסיס נִתָּז, וּפִסַּת נְיָר נִשְׁמֶטֶת וּמ ֶ ַשּׁהוּ זָח אוֹ זָז וּמ ֶ ַשּׁהוּ חוֹרֵג מִן הַמִּסְגֶּרֶת הַנְּכוֹנָה 9[...]

When a glass drops, a sherd is scattered, a scrap of paper slips and something stirs or starts and something bursts its proper bounds […]10

In addition to sensing the ‘bold outbreak’ in Simanim, the persona conveys the by-now familiar vertical course of movement: a glass drops and one of its sherds is sent flying.

With her intensified sensory acuity, the persona of Zikkaron tamim perceives that the stars are seized with episodes of trembling and falling. She builds both into descending vertical brushstrokes embellished with the spasmodic arcs and ripples of the stars as they “plummet from their places like epileptics”. Her senses are very finely attuned given

9 Ravikovitch, “Simanim,” Kol ha-shirim, 274. 10 This translation is based on: Ravikovitch, “Signs and Portents,” Ravikovitch, transl. Bloch and Kronfeld, Hovering, 207. This recurring bursting of bounds which sends colours and sherds flying, is reminiscent of the Lurianic qabbalistic notion of shevirat ha-kelim – the idea that the primordial light of Creation was so bright and so powerful that the figurative vessels of the world could not contain it: they burst apart. Further, according to this trend in thinking, our mandate is to go about our lives and mend Creation with our deeds; that is we are to figuratively gather those scattered sherds and reunite them in symbolic repair of the wholeness of Creation. This endeavour is known as tiqqun ‘olam. By extension, the poet conveys that when she is truly inspired to write poetry, and commences her familiar ‘descent into writing’, the poetry brewing is so powerful that it is as explosive as the primordial light of Creation. With heightened perception, she perceives the poetry in its raw or nascent state as colours bursting the strongholds of their frames, as the force that motivates some fragment or scrap or sherd to ‘stir or start’, to fly exquisitely through the air, ‘to burst its proper bounds’. As shown in Segment 2.5 the poet would like to be the pure crystal through which the poetry passes en route to paper.

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that all detractors withdraw from her field of perception: “Everything that obscures our vision / retreats into the shadows […]”

In visually tracking the stars’ unconventional arabesques downward, the persona notices that “Something stirs in the depths.” A similar stirring occurs in the excerpt of Simanim shown above. For the poet-persona, this ‘stirring in the depths’ is an extremely positive sign. It heralds the onset of a bout of fruitful writing. It marks the “transcendent reality […] committed to a vertical thrust from consciousness down into the unconscious […]” 11 essential to writing bios. It signals the imperative descent to the nether realms deep within which “the treasure of writing lies, where it is formed, where it has stayed since the beginning of creation: down below.”12

Zikkaron tamim adds a novel element to the persona’s pre-writing experience. While she takes into account some minute details through sensory perception, other features are deliberately obliterated: “the faces are blotted out.” In initial readings of the poem this phenomenon persists as counterintuitive to that of heightened sensory perception. One would expect that sensory acuity would sharpen the speaker’s perception of facial detail, not blot it out. Crystal clear consciousness would presumably yield a detailed view of visible features, not stipulate their retreat “into the shadows” along with “Everything that obscures our vision […]” The phenomenon is nevertheless emphasized through varied repetitions in the first, third and eleventh lines:

Only when the faces are blotted out is it possible to remember anything here in its entirety only when the faces are blotted out. […]

Everything that obscures our vision retreats into the shadows, the faces too.

11 Olney, Memory/Bios, 239. 12 Cixous, Ladder of Writing, 118.

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The gist of the repetitions is that the deliberate repression of faces is somehow necessary for the retrieval of a ‘pure’ memory. The counterintuitive character of this element, underscored thrice through repetition, demands further attention. The examination of the poem will revisit the function and import of this phenomenon after introducing the results of the mentioned semantic range study of tamim as they apply to memory.

7.3 Semantic Range Study: “tamim”

The persona exhibits a strong desire to gain access to zikkaron tamim – an intact or pure or perfect memory. I find the Hebrew term intriguing because of the plethora of nuances that adhere to the descriptor tamim in the layers of the Hebrew language. Its echoes of personal integrity abound beginning with the earliest scriptural narrative layers. Noah is depicted as ’ish tzaddiq tamim,13 meaning a righteous and perfect individual.14 Abraham is commanded to walk before God and be tamim – “be perfect” in absolute terms in preparation for the establishment of a covenant with God.15

The scriptural echoes of tamim grow to include connotations of unmarred physical wholeness in the context of ritual purity in the priestly code, as Leviticus enumerates sacrifices. For sacrifices to God the contributors were to select animals of the herd and flock that were tamim: “without blemish.”16

There are, of course, connotations beyond these as well. To find the full scope of biblical nuances of the word tamim from which contemporary echoes grow, I conducted a semantic range study. The study encompasses the word tamim along with a Hebrew counterpart shalem17 in the bible. The study also encompasses shelim and shelam,

13 Genesis 6:9. 14 Ibn Ezra interprets the gist of the epithet (loc. cit.), deemed bipartite by virtue of the masoretic symbols, as righteous in deed and perfect at heart. 15 Koren Bible, Genesis 17:1. 16 Koren Bible, Leviticus 1:3, 1:10. 17 In Genesis 33:18 Jacob is described with this synonym, as having returned to Canaan wholly intact physically, materially and in terms of emotional wellbeing, with Rachel and Leah, Bilha and Zilpa and

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counterparts to tamim in Aramaic targumic texts. The results of the study, whose length and complexity preclude its detailed inclusion in this thesis, are represented in the form of a chart below. Each nuance appears in relation to the context of the scriptural milieux in which it occurs.18

NUANCE CONTEXT

time frames

only in this second שלים/שלם – entire, full payment .1 aspect

2. unblemished sacrifice

physical, material, intellectual and ;שָׁלֵם intact emotional well being –Hebrew .3 שלם Aramaic forms of

God; God’s expectations of certain 4. perfect individuals

deed, thought and speech: alignment

5. principled, acting with of hand, heart and voice in human integrity conduct, including worship of God

1. acting with sincerity, without wile or human intention that motivates speech guile and deed 2. acting blamelessly, in innocence, in good faith human intention that motivates speech and deed

their children, their livestock and possessions. The reference is to Jacob’s return from a risky reunion with his brother Esau of previously-declared homicidal inclination. The reunion followed a lengthy and trying sojourn with his less-than-scrupulous uncle, Lavan. The phrase used in Genesis 33:18 is: va- yavo Ya‘aqov shalem. Koren Tanakh translates shalem, usually construed as ‘complete’ or ‘whole’, as “safe” in Genesis 33:18: “Jacob arrived safe […]” 18 See Appendix B.

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6. spiritually at one with God spiritual reverence for God

7. unanimous, unanimously responses: in word and deed

initiatives, collaborative plans – 8. sharing singularity of purpose, Aramaic ;בְּלֵבָב שָׁלֵם and שלם Hebrew forms of in league with בלב שלים and שלם forms of

only שְׁלִם - wholly completed, fully concluded construction .9

10. wholly depleted, entirely finished commodities

Should readers relish an academic exercise, they can apply each nuance to the single ‘pure’ memory that the persona seeks. The application yields relevant readings of a ‘pure’ memory on both the individual and collective levels. Several are listed here, with latitude in articulation. They are numbered to correspond with the numbering shown in the chart of nuances.

1) one entire memory 2) one unflawed memory 3) a single memory, wholly intact in its recollection 4) a single perfect memory 5) a memory characterized by integrity: a) integrity of that remembered i) one innocent memory characterized by blamelessness; b) integrity on the part of the person or group remembering i) one sincere, guileless memory lacking in deception

Of course this list could go on to parallel all ten nuances identified in the study, but an extended academic exercise is rather rigid for the fluidity of poetry. Capacity to invest a poem with multiple nuances, however, is not. That capacity is the stock and trade of creative modes of writing, particularly the poetry. Poets like Dahlia Ravikovitch practically inhale multiple nuances through their knowledge of the language and literature of classical and contemporary sources. They allow them to circulate through

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their respiratory systems and to influence one another in the bloodstream; then the poets exhale them through their ink into the contexts of their concentration.

In reviewing the nuances uncovered in the accompanying semantic range study, I immediately notice an interesting feature of the word-network of tamim. The nuance cluster carries connotations of ‘whole’ or ’finished’ both in the sense of ‘wholly completed’ and ‘wholly depleted’. For better or worse there are some inextricable crossovers between these seemingly opposed nuances stemming from their biblical uses. We can appreciate the cross-fertilization that such circumstances precipitate. Language and ideas benefit from such open possibilities and enrichment.

That such circumstances challenge ‘fixity’ of meaning is the facilitator of a prominent device of postmodernism as it applies to poetics. As we saw in Chapter Six, this device may be referred to as a set of techniques for the ‘sealing and unsealing’ of meaning, a cultural means for the challenging of boundaries and systems from within. Postmodern poetics have been at play as long as there has been language; in other words, for as long as there have been borders of meaning to prod.

7.4 A ‘Pure’ Personal Memory: Wholly Completed and Wholly Depleted

The persona speaks in the first person plural, an indication that we may read her desire as a quest for collective memory. She also speaks impersonally, saying “Only when […] is it possible […]”.19 Accordingly we can also read the desire on the level of the individual seeking the wholeness of a personal recollection, one that her naivety or capacity to remember had previously withheld from access. The next segments of this chapter investigate the ways in which the tension between ‘wholly completed’ and ‘wholly depleted’ are relevant to the poem on both these levels.

19 Hebrew syntax encompasses some subject-ambiguous, number-neutral, gender neutral expressions which figure in impersonal sentences. These begin with introductory phrases such as “it is possible/impossible”, “it is worthwhile/not worthwhile”, “it is permitted/prohibited” and so forth, followed by an infinitive. This syntax is referred to in Hebrew as stami. The subject is generally to be inferred from context and can be a specific individual, a specific collective or a general collective.

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As has become apparent through the poems and excerpts examined to this point, themes of death factor into a significant number of the persona’s self-portraits. To speak of memory on a personal level, some of these instances pertain to the death of the speaker’s father in a car accident when she was a young child. Years of her life and portions of her corpus are spent trying to cope in some way with the memory of this trauma that has had enormous bearing on the shape of her psyche and its emotional manifestations. It is in relation to this memory that two particular nuances take hold: ‘whole’ in the sense of ‘wholly completed’ or ‘fully concluded’; and ‘whole’ in the sense of ‘wholly depleted’, ‘entirely finished’.

On the one hand, her father’s death is a memory that the speaker, like Dahlia Ravikovitch herself, never fully possesses. In fact the circumstances of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s father’s death were kept from her, in her naivety – temimut, by relatives for close to two years after he died.20 This well-intentioned plan had dire consequences for the girl who became the woman and poet. The poetry reveals the persona enmeshed in a search of a fuller, more detailed account of her father’s death. In this respect the first and ninth nuances listed in the semantic range apply to the quality of memory sought: tamim as ‘whole’ in the sense of ‘entire’, and tamim as ‘whole’ in the sense of ‘fully completed’. The persona wants a fully constructed version of the ‘implanted’ yet deeply felt memory. The persona needs closure.

On the other hand, the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch delivers an unambiguous statement that there are some recollections which the persona would like to have over and done with. As outlined in Chapter Two in an untitled poem about her father, the persona conveys that every night in her sleep she is condemned to attend the site of the car accident that claimed his life, and to relive every terrifying detail.21 Understandably the

20 Dalia Karpel, “Ba’a ve-halekha,” Musaf Ha-’aretz, 18.8.06. In a retrospective article, Karpel reviews that Dahlia’s mother, Mikhal, was persuaded to move the family from suburban Ramat Gan to Kevutzat Geva following the car accident of her husband, Leo. Leo, also known as Levi Ravikovitch was originally from Russia and had made his way to Israel from Harbin, China. Dahlia Ravikovitch was six years old at the time of the accident. Her twin brothers, Ahiqam and Amiram, were about six months old. 21 Ravikovitch, “[‘Omed ‘al ha-kevish ba-lyela],” Kol ha-shirim, 24.

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speaker desires an end to this nightmare galaxy and a way for its details to be diminished. In this respect, the tenth nuance listed applies: ‘whole’ in the sense of ‘wholly depleted’, ‘fully finished’.

In Zikkaron tamim as well as in her writing in general, the speaker grapples with both desperation to consciously recall and impetus to deliberately forget. This opposition is not simply a personal quirk. It is an insistently human tension. The dialectic relationship between these inescapable impulses is well articulated in the writings of Herbert Marcuse. This philosopher and sociologist reflected on remembrance, forgetting and civilization as follows:

This ability to forget – itself the result of a long and terrible education by experience – is an indispensible requirement of mental and physical hygiene without which civilized life would be unbearable; but it is also the mental faculty which sustains submissiveness and renunciation. To forget is also to forgive what should not be forgiven if justice and freedom are to prevail.22

In the process of seeking a specific personal recollection, the persona must simultaneously summon perfect memory and struggle with at least a benign modicum of forgetting. Without the latter, she would be neither able to rise each morning and clothe herself in ‘non-choking apparel’, nor function in the world. As noted, the only time the persona’s malaise is alleviated is when she is charged with the energy and sensations of eros or deeply engaged in the vital creative process of her poetry writing. For her writing, however, the tension between desperation to consciously recall and impetus to deliberately forget becomes highly problematic in the context of a ‘pure’ collective memory.

7.5 A ‘Perfect’ Collective Memory: Faces and Facets

Dahlia Ravikovitch was a proponent of grass-roots peace initiatives in Israel. Her conscience was troubled by flawed collective historical, religious, geographical and cultural memories on the parts of groups which consider one another Israel’s ‘insiders’

22 Herbert Marcuse, “Eros and Thanatos,” Sigmund Freud, ed. Harold Bloom (New York: Chelsea House, 1985) 12. Henceforth: Marcuse, “Eros and Thanatos.”

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and ‘outsiders’ regarding territorial matters, sovereignty issues, religious prerogatives, living conditions and rights to live and let live. This is the collective backdrop against which the context of Zikkaron tamim comes into play. With that in mind, a number of the nuances of the word tamim come into play as descriptors of the word ‘memory’.

The persona installs the nuance of ‘whole’ in the sense of ‘complete memory’ through the title of the poem, its varied repetition in the last stanza as “a single perfect memory”, and through the firm support of the expression davar bi-shelemuto – “anything here in its wholeness” in the second line of the poem. Our first impression is that the speaker wishes to gain access to a full memory. The second stanza complicates the impression.

When we encounter the colloquial expression in the second stanza regarding dispensing with “everything that obscures our vision” we realize that the blotting out of faces, mentioned twice by this point in the poem, is more complex than the removal of deceptive detractors; it has to do with obliterating perceptions of ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’. The word panim, collective in construction whether used as ‘face’ or ‘faces’, also carries the meaning of ‘facets’. This concentration of multiple connotations boosts the effects of the word, and its nuances spill over into the third mention of panim: “Everything that obscures our vision / retreats into the shadows, / the faces too.”23

The revelation, concealment or denial of human faces or facets of any issue, has a great deal to do with perception. It pertains to the way in which any group perceives its collective memory and links that memory to its rights to exist with respect and security in Israel. Collective memory is, like personal memory, fraught with tension borne of summoning complete and accurate recollection of a past not fully known, nor necessarily experienced first hand, and of filtering it through the partial recall of contemporary eyelids. This predicament affects perception of the many faces of the jewel which is Israel, as well as perception of the light refracted through its facets: cultural, historical, religious, and territorial, to name just a few.

23 In light of the double entendre of the word panim, an alternate reading would be: “Everything that obscures our vision / retreats into the shadows, / the facets too.”

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Along related lines, albeit on a rather concrete level, Chapter Six analyzes a poem based on an actual occurrence in which the onlookers could not get past the ‘face’ of the victim. Each group considered his face that of an ‘outsider’. Neither group came to the aid of this fatally wounded individual. The speaker of the poem ‘Egla ‘arufa offsets that disturbing reality by portraying the victim as anonymous. After he loses the accoutrements of his identity in stumbling to the ground, the speaker portrays him as a blood soaked amorphous human being. As readers of the poem we come face to face with our own perceptions of ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’ and discern our own perception of the facets of the issues arising from related collective memory.

To restore attention to Zikkaron tamim, there is a question that begs asking: is there any such thing as a ‘pure’ memory, a ‘perfect’ memory, an ‘unflawed’, ‘blameless’, ‘innocent’ memory, one which is ‘sincere’ and devoid of self-serving wiles? A related question is whether there is any group in Israel and her surroundings that can claim that its collective memory is wholly ‘intact’ and entirely ‘unblemished’. The poet persona sounds all of these notes of the term tamim at once in the achingly rhetorical question that concludes the poem:

How many days, how many years, storms and thunderbolts have we waited for a single pure memory to burst forth from the depths of the earth, like a lily bright red.

Does the persona invoke her much-loved bright red lily24 for its adored organic burst of perfection, one that can only take place when perceptions about ‘faces’ of ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’ are put aside, so that all lives may be fully lived? Alternately is its sudden, whole and powerful presence a sign of something more sinister? The answers, of

24 The speaker extols the lily’s aptitude for choosing its own colours and for its blinding power in: Ravikovitch, “Shir shel hesberim,” Kol ha-shirim, 193-194. She sorely misses its astonishing colourburst in: Ravikovitch, “Yereq ‘alim,” Kol ha-shirim, 301-302.

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course, depend on the nuances which we bring to bear on the word tamim. A memory that is perfectly pure and ‘lily white’ in the eyes of one group might be stained scarlet with bloodshed in the eyes of another. This is the conundrum of the ‘perfect’ and ‘pure’ collective memory for which the persona aches.

7.6 Summary

Zikkaron tamim, simply translated, means a ‘pure’ or ‘perfect’ or ‘intact’ memory. A semantic range study of the descriptor tamim reveals a wider range of connotations. It carries at least ten nuances, two of which strain one against the other: ‘complete’ in the senses of ‘wholly completed’ and ‘wholly depleted’.

With the title Zikkaron tamim, the poet installs the nuance of ‘complete’ for the memory she seeks. She seals in that nuance temporarily with the words “anything here in its entirety” in the second line. Subsequently this becomes the very concept that she seeks to challenge. She unseals that connotation by skilfully and artistically allowing the word tamim to resonate with multiple nuances. In doing so the speaker ensures that her poem resists static denotation. In this manner she challenges her readers to ask pointed questions and wrestle with their answers. True to postmodern poetics, in defying ‘fixity’ of meaning through the activation of a word’s multiple nuances, among other means, poets open worlds of connotations in their works. With this technique they multiply the facets of each poem, multiply the paths that readers can take to and from the poem, and multiply the frames of reference with which they can construct its readings thereby inviting multiple ‘readings’ of meaning.

Zikkaron tamim is the self-portrait of the persona who is grappling with the concept of a ‘pure’ memory. On the personal level she struggles with a traumatic memory which she wishes were ‘perfect’. For her, ‘perfect’ would require that the memory be ‘intact’ or ‘finished’, both in the sense of ‘wholly completed’ and ‘wholly depleted’. On the collective level the persona wrestles with the subjectivity of vision that ultimately precludes a single ‘pure’ collective memory and affects perception of the faces and facets of the peoples and issues of contemporary Israel. This prismatic self-portrait

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reveals the persona simultaneously summoning ‘perfect’ memories and struggling with a healthful iota of deliberate forgetting.

On the personal level a benign degree of forgetting would spell relief for the speaker and permit her to function in the world on a daily basis. Her throat would relax25 and her ‘white ink’ of eros and écriture féminine would flow.26 She could dress unselfconsciously in the garb of royalty, take up her scribe’s quill, and chant belles chansons for the king.27

On the level of collective memory a quotient of deliberate forgetting is more problematic. If only there were a way to determine the perfect ratio of collective remembrance to forgetting. The first is vital to civilization; the second is “an indispensible requirement of mental and physical hygiene”.28 That ratio could be used to determine a significant point along the continuum between remembering and forgetting. That point would constitute the time and place when and where something that “stirs in the depths” of creativity would “burst forth / from the depths of the earth”.

Metaphorically speaking, that ‘something’ would be endless fields of stunning red lilies. Just as the female lover in the Song of Songs really knows she could find the beloved she seeks among the lilies29 for a reunion of rapture, so Israel and her prospective partners, each with constructive fine-tuning of collective memory, could opt for a future meeting among the ‘bright red lilies’.

In a similarly poetic metaphor of flora, Yehuda Amichai also subtly suggests that parties staking exclusive claim to Israel must fine-tune their attitude toward collective memory: no matter how ‘right’ any party’s claim may be, there can be no blossoming of new life where the debris of battle or the trampling of intransigence mars the landscape. He writes:

25 See Chapter 4, especially Segment 4.7. 26 See Chapter 4, especially Segment 4.5, Subsections (i) and (ii). 27 See Chapter 4, especially Segment 4.3. 28 Marcuse, “Eros and Thanatos,” 12. 29 Song of Songs 6:1-2.

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From the place where we are right, flowers will never grow in the spring.30

Ultimately, Zikkaron tamim is the self-portrait of the persona using her writing process to contend both with personal remembrance and with the same tincture of collective hubris that we detect in Amichai’s poem. The poet conveys that the problematic facets of ‘pure’ ‘perfect’ or ‘intact’ personal and collective memory must be broached. Only that way can individuals and groups claiming Israel as their own, hold any hope of generating ‘perfect’ future memories to be perceived of as springing forth from the earth like lilies: exquisitely formed, vividly colourful, perfect in their entirety.

30 Yehuda Amichai, “Ha-maqom she-bo ’anu tzodeqim,” Amichai, Shirei Yehuda Amichai, Vol. 1, 258.

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Summary 8.1 Lamenting Poet

This study begins with an analysis of Dahlia Ravikovitch’s poetry that accounts for her renown as ‘the lamenting poet’. Her work reflects intimate knowledge of the hallmarks of biblical and medieval Hebrew lament as well as conversance with those in the poetry of the early modern Hebrew writers. She incorporates their literary themes, metric traditions and language conventions. She builds innovatively upon them in her contemporary Hebrew poems. Her capacity for the genre of lament resounds across the personal lyrical and collective expressive scope of her oeuvre.

8.2 Lamenting Lovelorn Soul

Through further textual analysis it becomes clear that the persona perpetually suffers from conditions of love. She experiences love in unsuitable proportions. She feels that she receives too little. She is conscious that she gives too much. She experiences love, even when accessible, as an affliction. She actually laments love. This study contributes to the body of research on the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch by expanding and developing the poet’s original epithet, through literary analysis, to ‘the lamenting lovelorn soul’.

8.3 Kindred Spirit of the Lover of the Song of Songs: “For I am sick with love.”

I view the speaker as akin to the woman at the heart of one of the best-known love poems in the Song of Songs who sings:

Sustain me with ‘sweet delicacies’, Bolster me with apples, For I am sick with love.1

1 Song of Songs 2:5.

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The female lover of the Song of Songs experiences a wide range of emotions and sensations that accompany the experience of awakening love. She and her beloved find, release and continue to seek one another in playful bouts and fevered pursuit, in dream scene and conscious quest and every register of love in between.

Ravikovitch’s speaker is not familiar with the mid-range registers of love, only its extreme heights and depths. She perceives these so keenly that she experiences them not only emotionally, but physically as well. The physical intensity of her emotions reminds me of a powerful line in a novel by Anne Enright, The Gathering.2 There, Enright speaks of “this grief that is almost genital.”3 Ravikovitch’s persona experiences love similarly, in that inestimably embedded organic mode: for her the ‘conditions’ of love are so palpable and so urgent that they are ‘almost genital’. They manifest themselves in contrasting physical sensations and intense cravings. She forever feels too hot or too cold. Her throat constricts and occasionally releases. She thirsts for pure essence and hungers for pure memory.

8.4 Rare Equilibrium: Eros

On rare occasions the speaker attains a sense of equilibrium in matters of love and desire. Her experience of eros is a full-body experience. She sinks into a cloud of pleasant sensation; she settles into marvelous natural matter; she radiates with the lucidity of gold and flows with the fluidity of oil of frankincense into a lush and silent envelopment; she rests on the surface of the earth and merges organically with the herbs and grasses of creation.

8.5 Existential Malaise: A Gaping Void

At most other times the persona is aware of the void in her soul. She is left bereft and in want. Even oceans of the ‘vanilla’ for which she so desperately yearns would not suffice

2 Anne Enright, The Gathering (New York: Grove Press, 2007). Henceforth: Enright, The Gathering. 3 Enright, The Gathering, 7.

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to alleviate the malaise of her love-affliction nor fill the gaping chasm. Other than eros, the only thing that comes close to offering relief is total immersion in poetry. Particularly relieving is her self-writing process. It entails fully-absorbing crystal-clear consciousness that facilitates the written- performativity of bios.

8.6 Convergence of Eros and Creative Vitality

The convergence of eros and creative vitality associated with her writing is an essential key to the self constructed in the poems. This convergence informs the speaker’s personal version of ‘sweet delicacies and apples’.4 The nexus of eros and creativity presents as the substance of existential sustenance which the persona profoundly craves in order to go on living, loving and writing. This is so on a personal level. It also holds true when she exerts the voice of responsibility on the collective level.

8.7 Estranged Soul: Fiery Shipwreck in Endless Waters

The persona’s Ariadne’s thread, metaphorically wound about with ‘sweet delicacies and apples’, is steeped in ‘vanilla’. On the one hand it is the memory-shaping filament that could lead her out of her labyrinthine nettle of love. On the other hand the persona’s Ariadne’s thread is a fuse leading to fire. Owing to her sometimes ‘mistaken’ or ‘out of bounds’ love which we can read on one level as apostasy, and her conviction of estrangement from divine love, the speaker is already in flames. She resigns herself to an ultimate purification of her soul through flame and water. She resolves to become a shipwreck on fire; only ‘endless waters’ can serve to extinguish her personal conflagration.

8.8 Prismatic Self-portraiture: Means and Motifs

4 Based on Song of Songs 2:5. As noted in earlier chapters these substances of sustenance, summoned by the female lover at the heart of one of the love poem of the Song of Songs, are interpreted and translated variously as flagons of wine and apples (Ibn Ezra on Song of Songs 2:5), and as raisin cakes and apples (JPS Tanakh, Song of Songs 2:5) and apples. Linguistically, ’ashishot can be related to ’ashisha, the singular used in II Samuel 6:9 and in I Chronicles 16:3. There is a suggestion that in those sources, the word might refer to a cluster of figs or a fruit cake. See: “’Ashisha,” Qonqordantzya hadasha, ed. Avraham Even-Shoshan (Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer, 1990) 126.

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This study contributes to the growing body of research on the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch by identifying and analyzing seminal poems as prismatic self-portraits of a lovelorn soul. They are painted in the life-conferring, productive ‘white ink’ of écriture féminine. This study contributes as well by discerning and analyzing Ravikovitch’s means and motifs for self-portraiture.

(i) Means

Ravikovitch’s means consist primarily of skilful combining and contouring of elements arising from the previous layers of Hebrew language and literature, particularly the orchestration of their intertextual engagement with her poems. Her active memory is rich with the wordings, structures, motifs, themes and cadences of the Hebrew bible. Her imagination bursts with familiarity with the treasures of literature which sprang from scriptures: Mishna, Talmud, halakhic and aggadic midrash, and Aramaic targumic texts. To these she adds the gems of medieval5 and early modern Hebrew poetry.6

Ravikovitch’s means involve recourse to imagery and figures in additional literary traditions. Among them are elements of ancient Greek,7 ancient Egyptian8 and Chinese9 mythology and philosophy.10

5 See, for example, the ‘apple poems’ by two of the Hebrew poets of Golden Age Spain, Moses Ibn Ezra and Solomon Ibn Gabirol shown in Chapter 3. Ravikovitch endows the golden apple attributes similar to those of its medieval ‘ancestors’. To these she adds her own innovative touches. 6 See, for example, Chapter 6 for Ravikovitch’s intertextual engagement of a poem written by Bialik in reaction to the Kishinev pogroms of 1903: H.N. Bialik, “’Al ha-shehita,” Hayyim Nahman Bialik: ha- shirim, ed. Avner Holtzman, (Tel Aviv: Devir, 2004) 249. 7 Michal Ben-Naftali, for example, identifies some of the figures of Greek mythology in her article “Keri‘a: ’al yehasei ’em-bat be- ‘iqqevot ‘Ha-beged’ me-’et Dahlia Ravikovitch, Resling 7 (2000): 65-83. As well, Ravikovitch’s work shows her familiarity with principles of Platonic philosophy regarding the disposition of the soul after the body physically expires: see Chapter 5. 8 See Chapter 5 regarding ancient Egyptian mythological beliefs regarding the soul and its passage on the solar boat of the sun deity, Ra. 9 Juliette Hassine outlines elements of Chinese alchemy at work in Ravikovitch’s poetry in: Shira u- mitos be-shiratah shel Dahlia Ravikovitch (Tel Aviv: Akad, 1989) 47. 10 In addition to her use of Hebrew sources, Ravikovitch draws on all of the literary traditions mentioned above for symbolic motifs and concepts concerning the soul in this world, as well as for funerary customs and rituals for the purification of the soul and transfer to an afterlife.

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Ravikovitch’s means also include the deployment of postmodern poetics in the dimensions of language. At times she employs her command of the classical Hebrew sources to install voices of authority in her poetry, at others to undermine that authority. In the space that results between such ‘sealing and unsealing’ of the poems, Ravikovitch situates her voice of remonstration. In the ‘hermeneutic lag’ that elapses between the moment readers notice that a change of course has occurred and the split second when we reorient ourselves, we bring interpretation to bear and can construct multiple readings of the poems.

(ii) Motifs

Scholars in the field have noted some of the biblical images that play a role in the work of Dahlia Ravikovitch. They have also given cursory attention to a handful of images arising from rabbinic literature, noticeable at surface level. This thesis uncovers several previously undetected biblical images in the poetry, through textual analysis, application of a semantic range study and the complex reach of intertextuality. This study also reveals the influence of a number of specific images rooted in rabbinic sources – mishnaic, talmudic and midrashic, not previously identified. To these the study adds the disclosure of images rooted in iconic medieval Hebrew hermeneutic commentaries on classical Jewish sources and in the Hebrew belles lettres of that era as well. This study uncovers the connection of the images to Ravikovitch’s corpus and suggests the significance they present for generating and enriching a plurality of readings.

The following are among the major motifs discussed, which the speaker incorporates in her gallery of self-portraits as brushstrokes of self: a love apple,11 a golden apple of figurative language visible through silver filigree casings,12 a golden apple of belles lettres,13 courtly love14 and eros,15 a poet,16 a prophet,17 wisdom,18 an individual suffering

11 Song of Songs 2:5. 12 Proverbs 25:11. 13 David, “Ha-mahberet ha-teshi‘i: ’Ahavat Sahar ve-Khima,” Sippurei ’ahava, 87-106. 14 Loc. cit.

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a ‘condition’ of love,19 a figure of royalty clad in the fine raiment of royalty,20 a skilled scribe,21 a chanteuse longing to sing for the king,22 the same chanteuse transformed as a housebound ‘scribe’ suffering writer’s block and craving pure essence,23 a soul yearning for eros,24 a soul charged with eros, a constricted throat,25 a throat released,26 a throat open wide to exert the voice of responsibility27 and the voice of protest at full capacity28 a soul with an impulse to depart from its earthly trappings and wing its way back to the creator of heaven and earth,29 a shipwreck,30 an estranged soul,31 a smouldering soul,32 a soul in flames,33 and a writer aching for a ‘pure’ memory.34 The sheer number of engagements of Ravikovitch’s poetry with biblical, rabbinic and medieval Hebrew sources indicates the degree to which the previous layers of Hebrew language and literature are primary influences for her writing. Their sophisticated use at

15 Ibn Saqbel, Ne’um ’Asher ben Yehuda. 16 Abraham Ibn Ezra on Song of Songs 2:5. 17 Loc. cit. 18 Loc. cit. 19 Song of Songs 2:5. 20 Psalms 45:14-15. 21 Psalms 45:2. 22 Psalms 45:2, 16-17. 23 Ravikovitch, “Portret,” Kol ha-shirim, 135-137. 24 Loc. cit. 25 Loc. cit.; Shir hatzot 1970, Kol ha-shirim, 170; Simanim, Kol ha-shirim, 274; “Cinderella ba-mitbah,” Kol ha-shirim, 227-228. 26 Ravikovitch, “’Atta bevadai zokher,” Kol ha-shirim, 115-116. 27 Ravikovitch, “‘Egla ‘arufa,” Kol ha-shirim, 253-254. 28 Ravikovitch, “’Eikh Hong Kong nehersa,” Kol ha-shirim, 119-121. 29 Psalms 124; Plato, Phaedo, 67a-e, in Plato: The Collected Dialogues, Including the Letters, eds. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1061), 49-50.; Ravikovitch, “Kemo rahel,” Kol ha-shirim, 190-191. 30 bYevamot 121a. 31 bHagiga 14b; yHagiga 2:1, 77b. 32 Sifrei Deut. Parashat Ha’azinu, pisqa 307 in Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut. 346. 33 Sifrei Deut. loc. cit. 34 Regarding the semantic range of the word “pure” – tamim, see Nos. Nine and Ten in the Table in Chapter 7 and corresponding biblical and targumic sources in Appendix B.

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the hand of this gifted poet is tribute to her finesse with the writer’s pen and love for the languages and literatures of her heritage.

8.9 Afterword

Through years of love, life, bouts of depression, and renewed promise Dahlia Ravikovitch continued to write poetry. Much of it is expressed as self-writing. Through the prisms of poetry the speaker examines, from varying angles and in multiple refractions of light, the figures of alterity – those ‘others’ who are herself. She makes full use of the properties of poetry and the facets of verbal self-portraiture to construct and probe the retrospect, contemporary bios and prospect of her lovelorn soul.

As has been observed about self-writing, often for individuals suffering in some way, “Writing as a verbal […] form may offer a kind of neutral space for self-presentation and the renegotiation of status.”35 For Dahlia Ravikovitch writing was more than an ‘offer of’; poetry was indeed the neutral space, the only emotionally comfortable space for her lovelorn soul to exist, whether she were its reader, its writer, or the ‘pure crystal’ medium through which it passed en route to paper.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

8.10 For Further Study

This thesis on the poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch concentrates on the elements initially outlined. It is therefore by no means a comprehensive or exhaustive analysis of her corpus. A future inquiry into the work of this talented poet might take the form of a comparative study of the ‘voice of responsibility’ in her oeuvre and that in the poetry of a contemporary female Palestinian poet regarding concepts of humanity, insiders, outsiders and ‘othering’.

35 G. Thomas Couser Recovering Bodies: Illness, Disability and Life Writing (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1997) 182.

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בשבחי השלוה. כל השירים עד כה. 38.

דברים שיש להם שעור. כל השירים עד כה. 178.

האהבה האמיתית אינה כפי שהיא נראית. כל השירים עד כה. 242-243.

הבגד. כל השירים עד כה. 122-123.

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בראשית רבה. מדרש בראשית רבא: עם מראה מקומות וחילופי נוסחאות ופירוש מנחת יהודה מאת חנוך אלבק. כתבי האקדמיה למדעי היהדות; הוצאת טהעאדאר ואלבעק. הדפסה שנייה עם תיקונים מאת חנוך אלבק: ירושלים: דפוס חמד בע''ם, 1996. 3 כרכים. [Albeck, Genesis Rabba.]

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משנה. See: Ḳehati, Pinḥas. 1987. The Mishnah: A New Translation with Commentary. 21 vols.

סידור. .See: Sacks, Jonathan. 2009. Siddur Koren

ספרי דברים. ספרי על ספר דברים עם חילופי גרסאות והערות מאת א''א פינקלשטיין. (נדפס לראשונה בברלין: הוצאת האגודה התרבויית היהודית בגרמניה, ת''ש לפ''ק.) ישראל: בית המדרש לרבנים שבאמריקה, 2001. [Finkelstein, Sifrei Deut.]

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פסיקתא זוטרתא. מדרש לקח טוב המכונה פסיקתא זוטרתא על חמישה חומשי תורה. שלמה בובר עורך. לבוב, (.n.d). מודפס מחדש בישראל: מפעלי ספרים יצוא בע''ם. [Pesiqta Zutreta.]

תלמוד בבלי. תלמוד בבלי השלם והמפואר (על פי כתב - יד ווילנה). ישראל: עוז והדר, 2002. 24 כרכים.

תלמוד ירושלמי. תלמוד ירושלמי: דפוס וונציה. וונציה, 1521. מודפס מחדש בישראל: הוצאת מעשה רוקח. (.n.d). תלמוד ירושלמי עם פירוש ידיד נפש. ישראל: יחיאל ברלב, תש''ס. 15 כרכים. תנ''ך.

- תורה. תורת חיים. ירושלים: מוסד הרב קוק. 7 כרכים.

- נ''ך. מקראות גדולות: נביאים וכתובים.ירושלים: הוצאת מקור הספרים, 'פאר והדר', תשנ"ח – תשנ''ט. 13 כרכים.

קונקוארדנציה קונקורדנציה חדשה לתורה נביאים וכתובים. אברהם אבן-שושן, עורך לתנ''ך. ירושלים: קרית ספר, 1997.

מילון [היסטורי]. המלון החדש: המהדורה המשלבת. אברהם אבן-שושן, עורך, בהשתתפות חבר אנשי-מדע. ישראל: המילון החדש בע''מ, 2000. 9 כרכים.

תוכנות אלקטרוניות של מקורות יהודיים קלאסיים. תקליטור פרוייקט השו"ת: גירסה 13+. רמת גן: אוניברסיטת בר-אילן, .1972-2005

תקליטור חברותא ללומד. גרסה +2.רמת גן: אוניברסיטת בר-אילן, 2001. תרגומי המקרא וקונקורדנציות לתרגומי המקרא אבן-שושן, אברהם. עורך. המלון החדש: אוצר שלם של הלשון העברית הספרותית המדעית, המדברת, ניבים ואמרות עבריים וארמיים, מונחים בינלאומיים בתשעה כרכים. ישראל: המלון החדש בע''מ, תש''ס. גינזבורגר, משה. תוספות וחילופין: תרגום ירושלמי לתורה הנעתק מכתב יד שהיה טמון וצפון בעיר פאריס, עם תוספות, הגהות ותקונים. ברלין: בית מסחר הספרים של ס. קאלוארי ושותפיו, תרנ''ה. מודפס מחדש בירושלים: תשכ"ט. חסיד, אהרן ובנימין סיאני. עורכים. ספר כתר התורה ה"תאג" הגדול. 5 כרכים. ירושלים: יוסף בכה''ר אהרן חסיד ומר שלמה בן בנימין סיאני, תש"כ.

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טל, אברהם. עורך. התרגום השומרוני לתורה: מהדורה ביקורתית. כרך א: בראשית, שמות. תל-אביב: אוניברסיטת תל - אביב, בית - ספר למדעי היהדות, תש"ם. טל, אברהם. עורך. התרגום השומרוני לתורה: מהדורה ביקורתית. כרך ב: ויקרא, במדבר, דברים. תל-אביב: אוניברסיטת תל - אביב, בית - ספר למדעי היהדות, תשמ"ב. טל, אברהם. עורך. התרגום השומרוני לתורה: מהדורה ביקורתית. כרך ג: מבוא. תל-אביב: אוניברסיטת תל - אביב, בית - ספר למדעי היהדות, תשמ"ג. צפור, משה. עורך. תרגום הפשיטתא לספר ויקרא עם ביאור.ירושלים: אושר לפירסום על ידי הוצאת סימור' תשס''ב. צפור, משה, עורך. ספרא דבריתא: תרגום הפשיטתא לספר בראשית. ספרא דמפקנא: תרגום הפשיטתא לספר שמות ירושלים: הוצאת סימור, תשס''ב.

קאסאווסקי, חיים יהושע. אוצר לשון תרגום אונקלוס: קונקורדנציה מיוסדת על התרגום שנדפס בברלין תרגמ''א (תרמ''ד) על פי נוסחא בחומש סויוניטה, שי''ז. 2 כרכים. ירושלים: הוצאת מאגנס, האוניברסיטה העברית; בית המדרש לרבנים באמריקה, תשמ''ו.

Basser, Herbert W., ed. 1994. Pseudo-Rabad: Edited and Annotated According to Manuscripts and Citations. Atlanta: Scholars Press.

Brown, Francis, ed. 2005. The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon: With an Appendix Containing the Biblical Aramaic. Peabody: Hendrickson. Reprint of 1906 published by Houghton, Mifflin and Co., Boston.

Clarke, E.G., W.E. Aufrecht, J.C. Hurd, and F. Spitzer. 1984. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan of the Pentateuch: Text and Concordance. New Jersey: Ktav Publishing House.

Jastrow, Marcus. 2005. A Dictionary of the Targumim, The Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature. Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers.

Kaufman, Stephen A. and Michael Sokoloff, with the assistance of Edward M. Cook. 1993. A Key-Word-In-Context Concordance to Targum Neofiti: A Guide to the Complete Palestinian Aramaic Text of the Torah. Baltimore and London: The John Hopkins University Press.

Klein, Michael L. 1980. The Fragment Targums of the Pentateuch: According to their Extant Sources. Volume I: Texts, Indices and Introductory Essays; Volume II: Translation. Rome: Biblical Institute Press.

Macho, Alejandro Díez, ed. 1977-1988. Neophyti 1: Targum Palestinense MS de la Biblioteca Vaticana. Tomos I – V: Génesis – Deuteronomio. Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cíentificas. 5 volumes. (Genesis 1988; Exodus1980; Leviticus 1980; Numbers 1977; Deuteronomy 1980.)

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Mandelkern, Solomon. 1955. Concordance on the Bible: New Edition. Revised, corrected and completed by Rabbi Chaim Mordecai Brecher. New York: Shulsinger Brothers.

Rosenthal, Franz. 1995. A Grammar of Biblical Aramaic. Sixth Revised Edition. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag.

Sperber, Alexander, ed. 1959. The Bible in Aramaic, Based on Old Manuscripts and Printed Texts. Volume II: The Former Prophets According to Targum Jonathan. Leiden: E.J. Brill.

Sperber, Alexander, ed. 1962. The Bible in Aramaic, The Bible in Aramaic, Based on Old Manuscripts and Printed Texts. Volume III: The Latter Prophets According to Targum Jonathan. Leiden: E.J. Brill.

Sokoloff, Michael. 1974. The Targum to Job From Qumran Cave XI. Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University and Jerusalem: Ahva Press.

Sokoloff, Michael. 2002. A Dictionary of Jewish Palestinian Aramaic of the Byzantine Period. Second Edition. Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University Press and Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press. (First Edition 1990 published by Bar Ilan University Press.)

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Appendices Appendix A Babylonian Talmud Yevamot 121a: Boundless Waters גמרא. תנו רבנן: נפל למים, בין שיש להם סוף בין שאין להם סוף - אשתו אסורה, דברי רבי מאיר; וחכמים אומרים: מים שיש להם סוף - אשתו מותרת, ושאין להם סוף - אשתו אסורה. […]

תניא, אמר רבן גמליאל: פעם אחת הייתי מהלך בספינה וראיתי ספינה אחת שנשברה, והייתי מצטער על תלמיד חכם שבה, ומנו? רבי עקיבא; וכשעליתי ביבשה, בא וישב ודן לפני בהלכה. אמרתי לו: בני, מי העלך? אמר לי: דף של ספינה נזדמן לי, וכל גל וגל שבא עלי נענעתי לו ראשי; מכאן אמרו חכמים: אם יבואו רשעים על אדם, ינענע לו ראשו. אמרתי באותה שעה: כמה גדולים דברי חכמים, שאמרו: מים שיש להם סוף - מותרת, מים שאין להם סוף - אסורה.

תניא, אמר רבי עקיבא: פעם אחת הייתי מהלך בספינה וראיתי ספינה אחת שמטרפת בים, והייתי מצטער על תלמיד חכם שבה, ומנו? רבי מאיר; כשעליתי למדינת קפוטקיא, בא וישב ודן לפני בהלכה. אמרתי לו: בני, מי העלך? אמר לי: גל טרדני לחברו וחברו לחברו, עד שהקיאני ליבשה. אמרתי באותה שעה: כמה גדולים דברי חכמים, שאמרו: מים שיש להם סוף - אשתו מותרת, מים שאין להם סוף - אשתו אסורה.1

[Baraita:] It was taught that Rabban Gamliel said: Once I was travelling along on a boat, and saw another boat which was wrecked, and I felt sorry for the sage who was in it, and who was he? Rabbi Akiva. And when I got to dry land, he came and

1 bYevamot 121a.

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sat and deliberated before me over matters of law. I said to him: My son, who rescued you? He said to me: a plank from a boat happened to come along and to each and to every wave that came along, I bobbed my head. As a result of this instance, the Sages said: In the event that evil people approach a person, he should bob his head before them. At that point I said: How great are the Sages who said: If it is a visibly delineated body of water – the woman may marry; if it is a body of boundless waters – the woman is prohibited from marrying.

[Baraita:] It was taught that Rabbi Akiva said: Once I was travelling along on a boat, and saw another boat which being wrecked in the sea, and I felt sorry for the sage who was in it, and who was he? Rabbi Meir. And when I got to the land of Qapotqiya, he came and sat and deliberated before me over matters of law. I said to him: My son, who rescued you? He said to me: one wave conveyed me to another and another and another, until I was expelled onto dry land. At that point I said: How great are the Sages who said: If it is a visibly delineated body of water – the woman may marry; if it is a body of boundless waters – the woman is prohibited from marrying.

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Appendix B Overview of a Semantic Range Study of tamim in Masoretic Text With Reference to its [ ָתּ ִמים] and Parallels in [ ְשׁ ִ לים] Counterpart shelim Palestinian Aramaic Targumic Texts

PARALLEL SAMPLE CONTEXT OF REFERENCES IN REFERENCES and ITS ARAMAIC ָתּ ִמים and ָתּ ִמים FOR HEBREW TARGUMIC NUANCE HEBREW PARALLELS IN TEXTS: PARALLELS IN MASORETIC ARAMAIC MASORETIC TEXT PARALLELS TEXT ְשׁ ִל ים SUCH AS

time frames – a) Joshua 10:13 ָתּ ִמים a) T- Nakh; TJ- שלים :b) Leviticus 23:15 Nevi’im payment – 1. entire, full Leviticus 25:30 b) TO, SJ, SA,, N, Y, שלם only in Syr: forms of שלים/שלם Numbers 32:13 this second aspect 3. TO, SJ, SA. N, Y, שלם Syr: forms of

a) Genesis 23:9

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a) TO, SJ, SA. N, Y צורות של שלם

דלא מום :Syr

a) Leviticus 4:28 b) TO, SJ, SA. N, Y: צורות של שלם b) Leviticus 22:21

:c) Numbers 19:2 c) TO, SJ, SA. N, Y ָתּ ִמים – unblemished Sacrifice .2 ,TO, SJ .שלם d) Ezekiel 15:5 forms of S . N, show the term e) Ezekiel 43:22 A alongside דלית בה מום/מומא

d) and e) T- Nakh; TJ- שלים - Nevi’im

physical, material, a) TO, SJ, SA. N, Y, 3. intact intellectual and a) Genesis 33:18 שלם emotional well Syr: forms of being – Hebrew שָׁלֵם

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a) TO, FragT-MsP, FragT-MsVNL, T- Yerushalmi and Y: שלם forms of

שלמתא :a) Deuteronomy b) T-Nakh God; God’s דשלים :expectations of 32:4 c) T-Jb certain b) Psalms 19:8 מנדעא individuals; and 4. perfect human c) Job 37:16 descriptions of d) ) TO, SJ, SA. N, Y: d) Genesis 17:1 :Syr .שלם certain forms of individuals – דלא מום e) Song of Songs , e) T-Nakh (an ָתּ ִמים, ְתּ ִמים - 6:9 תּ ִ ְמימָה, תַמָּתִי indirectly parallel aggadic text; terms do not match up on a one to one basis; the text (שלים includes

deed, thought and speech: 5. principled, acting alignment of a) T-Nakh: hand, heart and

בתמימותא with integrity voice in human a) Proverbs conduct, 1. acting with 28:18 b) T-Nakh and TJ- including worship sincerity, בשלמותא :b) Joshua 24:14 Nevi’im ָתּ ִמים – of God without wile or guile human intention c) Psalms 84:12 c) T-Nakh: that motivates בשלימותא ,acting d) Judges 9: 16 .2 speech and deed blamelessly, – 19 -d) T-Nakh and TJ ָתּ ִמים in שלם innocence, human intention Nevi’im: forms of in good faith that motivates speech and deed ָתּ ִמים –

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a) T-Nakh and TJ- שלים :a) I Kings 8:61 Nevi’im 6. spiritually at one spiritual b) I Kings 15:3 reverence for b) T-Nakh and TJ- with God c) II Chronicles שלים :Nevi’im שָׁלֵם – God 19:9 שלים :c) T-Nakh

a) TO, SA, Y and Syr:

:SJ ;[קל] חד forms of חד N: forms of ;אחד לבא שלמא plus 7. unanimous, responses: in a) Exodus 24:3 word and deed – unanimously b) TO, FragT-MsP, b) Exodus 19:8 יחדו and אחד FragT-MsVNL, FragT- MsJTS, T-Yerushalmi,

SJ, SA,, N, Y, Syr: [ עמא כ]חדא forms of

a) TO, SJ, SA,, N, Y initiatives, שלם sharing singularity a) Genesis 34:21 and Syr: forms of .8 collaborative [בלב] :of purpose, in league plans – b) I Chronicles b) T-Nakh plus the שלים and 12:39 שָׁלֵם with Forms of בְּלֵבָב שָׁלֵם לבא חד expression

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construction – MT is in Biblical Aramaic in ְשׁלִם and shows Ezra a) N.B. The Masoretic a) Ezra 5:16 text is in Biblical ְשׁלִם :Aramaic

duration/term [of 9. wholly completed, pregnancy; of fully concluded b) TO, SA , N, Y, Syr: grieving] MT shows שלם forms of parallels from the b) Genesis 25:24 c) TO, SJ, N, Y and מלא Hebrew roots c) Deuteronomy Syr: forms of שלם in תמם and 34:8 Genesis and Deuteronomy, respectively

a) TO, SJ, N, Y: forms

:Syr ;תם :SA ;שלם of

גמר Commodities – a) Genesis 47:15 10. wholly depleted, MT employs forms of re: money b) TO, FragT-MsVNL, b) Genesis 21:15 N and Y: forms of תם, תמם entirely finished the root

;סכם SJ: form of ;שלם inter alia. re: water. MY ויכלו :employs גמר Syr: form of

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Appendix C Full Hebrew Poems by Dahlia Ravikovitch Corresponding to Excerpts Quoted in Hebrew: alphabetically by title or by first line of untitled works דליה רביקוביץ' אהבת תפוח הזהב ַתּ ַפּוּח זָהָב אָהַב אֶת אוֹכְלֵהוּ, טֹבוּ מ ְ ַראָיו לְמַאֲכָלֵהוּ, שָׂם אֶל ִ לבּוֹ כִּי הוּא ָ ה ֵ רוֹאהוּ. א ְ ֶתרוֹג בּוֹ יִרְהַב: חָכַמְתִּי מ ֶ ִמּנּוּ, ִ אילָן הִתְעַצַּב: יָמֹת ֵ וְאינֶנּוּ. פַּחַז נֶחְשַׁב, מִי ִ יְש ֶ יבנּוּ? א ְ ֶתרוֹג בּוֹ סִרְהֵב: ִ הבּוֹנָה ַהפֶּתִי! ִ אילָן הִתְקַצֵּף: סָרָה ִ היא וָחֵטְא ִ היא, חֲזֹר בָּך ֵ היטֵב כִּי כֶסֶל שָׂנֵאתִי. ַ תּ ַפּוּח זָהָב אָהַב אֶת אוֹכְלֵהוּ, אָהַב אֶת מ ֵ ַכּהוּ בְּכָל אֲב ָ ָריו. ַ תּ ַפּוּח זָהָב אָהַב אֶת אוֹכְלֵהוּ, הָל ְַך אֶל מ ֵ ַכּהוּ ָ בּרוֹת לְשִׁנָּיו ַ תּ ַפּוּח ָזהָב נִבְלַע ְ בּאוֹכְלֵהוּ, בָּא ְ בּ ֵ עוֹרהוּ, אַף בִּבְשׂ ָ ָריו.

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איך הונג-קונג נהרסה אֲנִי בְּהוֹנְג - קוֹנְג. יֵשׁ שָׁם ְ לשׁוֹן נָהָר שׁוֹרֶצֶת נְח ִ ָשׁים. יֵשׁ יְוָנִים, ִ סינִים ִ וְכּוּשׁים. עַל יַד פַּנָּסֵי הַנְּיָר פּוֹע ִ ֲרים אֶת ִ פּיהֶם תַּנִּינִים שֶׁל ַקרְנָבָל. מִי אָמַר ל ְָך ֶ שׁטּוֹר ִ ְפים פֹּה? הֲמוֹן אֲנ ִ ָשׁים י ְ ָרדוּ אֶל הַנָּהָר. מֶשִׁי כָּזֶה לֹא ר ִ ָא ָית מִיּ ֶ ָמ ָיך, אָדֹם יוֹתֵר מִפִּרְחֵי הַפָּרָג. בְּהוֹנְג - קוֹנְג הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ זוֹרַחַת בַּמִּזְרָח וְאֶת הַפְּר ִ ָחים מַשׁ ִ ְקים ְ בּנוֹזֵל ֵ ריחָנִי בּ ְִכדֵי לְהַכ ִ ְפּיל אֶת ֵ ריחָם. אֲבָל בָּעֶרֶב פַּנָּסֵי הַנְּיָר נִגּ ִ ָפים ָ בּ ַרוּח וְאִם ִ מ ֶ ישׁהוּ נִרְצָח שׁוֹא ִ ֲלים: זֶה הָיָה סִינִי אוֹ כּוּשִׁי? הַאִם מֵת בּ ִ ְיִסּוּרים? וְאַחַר כּ ְָך מ ִ ַטּ ִ ילים אֶת גּוּפוֹ אֶל הַנָּהָר וְכָל הַשְּׁר ִ ָצים אוֹכ ִ ְלים. ְאנִי בְּהוֹנְג - קוֹנְג, וּבָעֶרֶב חָשׁ ְַך ָ האוֹר בּ ֵ ְבית הַקָּפֶה. ַ וּבחוּץ הֲמוֹן פַּנָּסֵי נְיָר נִק ְ ְרעוּ. ָ וְהאָרֶץ הָיְתָה מ ְ ִתפּוֹצֶצֶת וְרוֹתַחַת, מ ְ ִתפּוֹצֶצֶת וְרוֹתַחַת, וְרַק אֲנִי יָדַעְתִּי, שֶׁבַּמַּעֲרָב ֵ אין ְ כּלוּם וּבַמִּזְרָח ֵ אין ְ כּלוּם. וְהַדּ ָ ְרקוֹן מִנְּיָר פִּהֵק אֲבָל ָ האָרֶץ ה ְ ִתפּוֹצְצָה. הֲמוֹן ִ אוֹיְבים יָבוֹאוּ הֵנָּה, ֶ שׁלֹּא ָ ראוּ מֶשִׁי ִ מ ֵ ימיהֶם.

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רַק ַ הזּוֹנוֹת הַקּ ַ ְטנּוֹת עוֹד מְק ְ ַבּלוֹת אֶת אוֹר ֵ ְחיהֶן בְּבִגְדֵי מֶשִׁי מֻכְתּ ִ ָמים, בּ ֻ ְקבּוֹת ק ַ ְטנּוֹת מְלֵאוֹת פַּנּ ִָסים. א ָ ֲחדוֹת מֵהֶן מִתְי ְ ַפּחוֹת ַ בּבֹּקֶר עַל בְּשָׂרָן הַמַּר ִ ְקיב. וְאִם נֶהֱרַג ִ מ ֶ ישׁהוּ הֵן ֲ שׁוֹאלוֹת: הוֹ - הוֹ סִינִי אוֹ כּוּשִׁי? הַמִּסְכֵּן, הַלְוַאי ֶ שׁלֹּא מֵת בּ ִ ְיִסּוּרים. וּכְבָר בִּשְׁעַת דּ ְ ִמ ִ דּוּמים מַגִּ ִ יעים ִ ראשׁוֹנֵי ָ האוֹר ִ ְחים ְכּמוֹ קוֹץ בַּבָּשָׂר הַחַי. אֲנִי בְּהוֹנְג - קוֹנְג וְהוֹנְג - קוֹנְג עַל ָ האוֹקְיָנוֹס, ְ תּלוּיָה כְּפַנָּס צִבְעוֹנִי עַל וָו בִּקְצֵה ָ העוֹלָם. אוּלַי הַדּ ָ ְרקוֹן יַעַטְפֶנָּה בְּמֶשִׁי אָדֹם וְיִשְׁמְטֶנָּה אֶל ְ תּהוֹם ַ הכּוֹכ ִ ָבים. וְרַק ַ הזּוֹנוֹת ה ְַקּ ַ טנּוֹת תִּתְיַפַּחְנָה ְ בּ ְתוֹך הַמֶּשִׁי שֶׁהַגְּב ִ ָרים עֲדַיִן עֲדַיִן צוֹב ִ ְטים אוֹתָן בְּבִטְנָן. אֲנִי לֹא בְּהוֹנְג - קוֹנְג וְהוֹנְג - קוֹנְג לֹא ָ בּעוֹלָם. בּ ָ ְמקוֹם שֶׁהָיְתָה הוֹנְג-קוֹנְג י ְ ֶשׁנוֹ כֶּתֶם אֶחָד וָרֹד, ח ְ ֶציוֹ בַּשָּׁמַיִם וְח ְ ֶציוֹ בַּיָּם. ארץ מבוא השמש הֻגַּד לִי כִּי יֵשׁ דֶּר ְֶך אֶל אֶרֶץ ְ מבוֹא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ וְאֶל נָכוֹן לֹא הֻגַּד לִי אִם שָׁמָּה אוּכַל לָבוֹא. לֹא נִמְצָא לִי חָבֵר לַדֶּר ְֶך, אָז פָּנִיתִי שָׁמָּה לָלֶכֶת אֶל אֶרֶץ ְ מבוֹא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ, עָשׂוּ לוֹ זָהָב ר ְ ִכבּוֹ. וְעוֹד הֻגַּד לִי: מִקֶּדֶם, בְּאֶרֶץ ְ מבוֹא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ ָ היוּ מַלְכֵי אֶרֶץ אֲשֶׁר ֵ אין שֹׁוֶה בִּגְאוֹנָם. וָאֹמַר בְּלִבִּי: אִם אַגִּ ַיע אֶל אֶרֶץ ְ מבוֹא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ יֻתַּן לִי כִּסֵּא מֶל ְֶך וְגַם שַׂלְמַת אַרְגָּמָן.

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וְאֶל נָכוֹן לֹא הֻגַּד לִי, אָכֵן מִלִּבִּי בּ ִ ָדיתִי כִּי בְּאֶרֶץ ְ מבוֹא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ יִהְיֶה לִי ָ שׁלוֹם עַד עוֹלָם. [אשה קטנה] אִשָׁה קְטַנָּה עָשְׂתָה לָהּ לְעֶרֶשׂ אֶת ַ כּדוּר ָ האָרֶץ ה ַ ַכּדּוּר הַגָדוֹל. וְלֹא נֶעְלַם מ ַ ִכּדּוּר ָ האָרֶץ כִּי אִשָׁה קְטַנָּה נָחָה עַל גָּבּוֹ. וְהוּא ִצמִּח עֲשׂ ִ ָבים אֶל ֵ חיקָהּ וְכָר ְַך אֶת גּוּפָהּ בּ ְ ַגִּב ִ עוֹלים. וְהוּא נָשָׂא אוֹתָהּ כּ ֵ ְשׂאתוֹ ה ִ ָרים וּב ָ ְקעוֹת א ָ ֲרצוֹת וְי ִ ַמּים. וְזוֹ הָאִשָּׁה הָיְתָה מְלַחֶשֶׁת: ַ כּדּוּר ָ האָרֶץ - עֶרֶשׂ שֶׁלִּי, ַ כּדּוּר ָ האָרֶץ - פְּלָגִים וּנְח ִ ָלים וְי ִ ַמּים גּוֹע ִ ֲשׁים וְאַף גַּם אֲנִי; הִנֵּה אֲנִי שָׁטָה כְּבַת סַפָּנִים ַ וְכדּוּר ָ האָרֶץ הָיָה לִי ִ סירָה, ִ נְחיל כּוֹכ ִ ָבים כּ ִ ִנְחיל ְ דּ ִ בוֹרים ִ הוֹמים ס ִ ָביב ל ַ ְכדּוּר ָ האָרֶץ. ַ כּדּוּר ָ האָרֶץ דָּבֵק אֶל בִּטְנִי יָדַי ְ צוֹמחוֹת כִּפְר ִ ָחים מִן ָ האָרֶץ, וְעַל פְּנֵי ה ַ ַכּדּוּר הֶעָצוּם הַזֶּה ָ בּאָה חֶדְוָה בְּכָל אֲבָרָי. אִשָׁה קְטַנָּה עָשְׂתָה לָהּ לְעֶרֶשׂ אֶת ַ כּדּוּר ָ האָרֶץ ה ַ ַכּדּוּר הַגָּדוֹל וְלֹא נֶעְלַם מ ַ ִכּדּוּר ָ האָרֶץ כִּי אִשָׁה קְטַנָּה נָחָה עַל גַּבּוֹ.

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אתה בודאי זוכר אַחֲרֵי שֶׁכֻּלָּם הוֹל ִ ְכים אֲנִי נִשְׁאֶרֶת לְבַד עִם ה ִ ַשּׁ ִ ירים, חֶלְקָם ִ שׁ ִ ירים שֶׁלִּי וְחֶלְקָם שֶׁל אֲח ִ ֵרים. ִ שׁ ִ ירים שֶׁכּ ְ ָתבוּ אֲח ִ ֵרים אֲנִי אוֹהֶבֶת יוֹתֵר. אֲנִי נִשְׁאֶרֶת בְּשֶׁקֶט וּמַחֲנַק הַגָּרוֹן מִשְׁתַּחְרֵר. אֲנִי נִשְׁאֶרֶת. ִלפְע ִ ָמים אֲנִי רוֹצָה שֶׁכֻּלָּם י ְ ֵלכוּ. ל ְ ִכתֹּב ִ שׁ ִ ירים זֶה אוּלַי דָּבָר נ ִ ָעים. אַתָּה יוֹשֵׁב בַּחֶדֶר וְכָל ה ִ ַקּירוֹת מִתְגַּבּ ִ ְהים. הַצְּב ִ ָעים נַע ִ ֲשׂים עַזִּ ים יוֹתֵר. מִטְפַּחַת כְּחֻלָּה הוֹפֶכֶת ְ לעֹמֶק בְּאֵר. אַתָּה רוֹצֶה שֶׁכֻּלָּם י ְֵלכוּ. אָתָּה לֹא יוֹדֵַע מָה אִתּ ְָך. אוּלַי תּ ְ ַחשֹׁב עַל שְׁנֵי דְב ִ ָרים אוֹ יוֹתֵר. אַחַר כּ ְָך ַ הכֹּל יַעֲבֹר וְתִהְיֶה ג ִ ָבישׁ ָ טהוֹר. אַחַר כּ ְָך אַהֲבָה. נַר ִ ְקיס אָהַב כָּל כּ ְָך אֶת ע ְ ַצמוֹ. טִפֵּשׁ מִי ֶ שׁלֹּא מ ִ ֵבין ֶ שׁהוּא אָהַב גַּם אֶת הַנּ ַַחל. אַתָּה יוֹשֵׁב לְבַדּ ְָך. לִבּ ְָך מַכ ִ ְאיב ל ְָך אֲבָל הוּא לֹא יִשָּׁבֵר. ְ לאַט ְ לאַט נִמ ָ ְחקוֹת הַדְּמֻיּוֹת ה ֵ ַדּהוֹת, אַחַר כּ ְָך נִמְחָקיִם הַפְּג ִ ָמים. אַחַר כּ ְָך ָ בּאָה שֶׁמֶשׁ בַּחֲצוֹת הַלַּיְלָה גַּם אֶת הַפְּר ִ ָחים הַכּ ִ ֵהים אַתָּה זוֹכֵר. ָה ָיִית רוֹצֶה ל ְ ִהיוֹת מֵת אוֹ חַי אוֹ ִ מ ֶ ישׁהוּ אַחֵר. אוּלַי יֵשׁ אֶרֶץ אַחַת ֶ שׁאַתָּה אוֹהֵב. אוּלַי יֵשׁ מִלָּה אַחַת. אַתָּה בְּו ַ ַדּאי זוֹכֵר. טִפֵּשׁ מִי שֶׁמּ ַַנִּיח לַשֶּׁמֶשׁ ל ְ ִשׁ ַקֹע כּ ְ ִרצוֹנָהּ. ִ היא ת ִ ָמיד מַק ִ ְדּימָה לִנְדֹּד מַעֲרָבָה אֶל הָאִיִּים. אֵל ֶָיך יָבוֹאוּ חַמָּה וּלְבָנָה, קַיִץ וָחֹרֶף. ָ אוֹצרוֹת ֵ אין-סוֹפִיִּים. בובה ממוכנת בַּלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה הָיִיתִי בֻּבָּה מְמֻכֶּנֶת וּפָנִיתִי י ִ ָמינָה ְ וּשׂמֹאלָה, לְכָל הָעֲב ִ ָרים, וְנָפַלְתִּי אַפַּיִם אַרְצָה וְנִשְׁבַּרְתִּי לִשְׁב ִ ָרים וְ נִ סּ וּ ְ לאַחוֹת אֶת שְׁבָרַי בְּיָד מְאֻמֶּנֶת.

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וְאַחַר כּ ְָך שַׁבְתִּי ל ְ ִהיוֹת בֻּבָּה מְתֻקֶּנֶת וְכָל מִנְהָגִי הָיָה ָ שׁקוּל וְצַיְּתָנִי, אוּלָם אָז כְּבָר הָיִיתִי בֻּבָּה ִ מסּוּג שֵׁנִי ְ כּמוֹ זְ מוֹרָה חֲבוּלָה שׁ ִ ֶהיא עוֹד ֲ אחוּזָה בּ ְ ִקנוֹקֶֶנת. וְאַחַר כּ ְָך הָלַכְתִּי ל ְ ִרקֹד בְּנֶשֶׁף ה ְ ַמּחוֹלוֹת ְאַך הִנִּיחוּ אוֹתִי בְּחֶבְרַת ח ִ ֲתוּלים וּכְל ִ ָבים ִ וְאלּוּ כָל צְעָדַי ָ היוּ ְ מ ִ דוּדים ְ וּק ִ צוּבים. וְהָיָה לִי שֵׂעָר שֶׁל זָהָב ָ וְהיוּ לִי עֵינַיִם כְּחֻלּוֹת וְהָיְתָה לִי שִׂמְלָה מִצֶּבַע פְּר ִ ָחים שֶׁבַּגָּן וְהָיָה לִי כּוֹבַע שֶׁל קַשׁ עִם ִ קשּׁוּט דֻּבְדְּבָן. בשבחי השלוה ְ בּעוֹד י ִ ָמים ְ מאֹד ר ִ ַבּים אֶמְצָא אֶת שֶׁבִּקְשָׁה נַפְשִׁי. אֶמְצָא לִי אֶת שַׁלְוַת נַפְשִׁי א ְ ֶמ ְשֹׁך שַׁלְוָה תִשְׁעָה ק ִ ַבּין. ְ וּבעוֹד י ִ ָמים ְ מאֹד ר ִ ַבּים ֶארְחַק ִ מתּוֹעֲבַת נַפְשִׁי. אֶרְחַק מִכַּעַשׂ אֲנ ִ ָשׁים חֲמַת פְּתָנִים וְעַקְר ִ ַבּים. ֵ וּבית ִ מדּוֹת לִי יִבָּנֶה אִם כֹּה יִתֵּן לִי א ִ ֱלֹהים ֵ וְאין יָתֵר בּוֹ וְחָסֵר. בּוֹ ֵ אין קוֹרֵא אַף ֵ אין עוֹנֶה וְעוֹף כָּנָף עָלָיו י ִ ָהים וְעוֹף כָּנָף ְ כּבוֹדוֹ שִׁעַר. דברים שיש להם שעור אֲנִי אוֹהֶבֶת אוֹתוֹ עַכְשָׁו בְּכָל כֹּחִי. עוֹד י ִ ָמים אֲח ִ ָדים וְאֶחְדַּל. וְכ ְָך זֶה הָיָה בַּהַתְחָלָה: אָהַבְתִּי אוֹתוֹ ְ כּמוֹ שֶׁחַמָּנִית אוֹהֶבֶת אֶת הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ ְ וּכמוֹ שׁ ִ ֶהיא נוֹטָה אֵלָיו. וְלֹא מִפְּנֵי ֶ שׁהוּא ַהשֶּׁמֶשׁ וְלֹא שֶׁאֲנִי חַמָּנִית. אָהַבְתִּי אוֹתוֹ בִּגְלַל מַה ֶ שּׁהוּא וּמַה שֶּׁאֲנִי.

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לִפְע ִ ָמים כְּשֶׁצַּעֲרִי גוֹבֵר עָלַי אֲנִי רוֹצָה לוֹמַר לוֹ אֲדוֹנִי, אַתָּה בְּכָל ָ העוֹלָם, בְּכָל ָ העוֹלָם, וְרַק לֹא פֹּה. וּמִלְּבַד זֶה, אֲדוֹנִי, חַיַּי נְתוּנִים בְּכַפּ ְָך. אֲבָל אֵלֶּה דְב ִ ָרים שֶׁיֵּשׁ לָהֶם ִ שׁעוּר וְאֵלֶּה דְב ִ ָרים שֶׁיֵּשׁ בָּהֶם ָ טעוּת. אֵלֶּה דְב ִ ָרים שׁ ָ ֶהיוּ ֵ מעוֹלָם. האהבה האמיתית אינה כפי שהיא נראית כָּל הָאֲנ ִ ָשׁים אָהֲבוּ אֶת יוֹנָה, הָאֲנ ִ ָשׁים בַּחֶדֶר אָהֲבוּ אֶת יוֹנָה, וְעִם שֶׁה ִ ַשּׂיחָה נָסַבָּה עַל ס ְ ִפרוּת, ְ אָמרוּ, זֹאת ָיוֹנה ְ זִכרוֹנָהּ לִבְרָכָה, ְ וְזִכרוֹנָהּ שֶׁל יוֹנָה הָל ְַך וְהִתְמַעֵט כִּי אוּלַי לֹא אָה ְ ַבנוּ אוֹתָהּ בֶּאֱמֶת, גַּם טִבְעִי הַדָּבָר שֶׁיִּתְכַּרְסֵם ה ָ ַזִּכּרוֹן ְ כּמוֹ שֶׁהֶעָפָר מְכַרְסֵם ַבּגְּוִיָּה. הַאִם אֲנ ְ ַחנוּ אוֹה ִ ֲבים אֶת חֲב ֵ ֵרינוּ? אֲנ ְ ַחנוּ לֹא מַמָּשׁ אוֹה ִ ֲבים אֶת חֲב ֵ ֵרינוּ. וְהַאִם אֲנ ְ ַחנוּ אוֹה ִ ֲבים אֶת יְל ֵ ָדינוּ? לִפְע ִ ָמים אֲנ ְ ַחנוּ אוֹה ִ ֲבים אֶת יְל ֵ ָדינוּ, וְלָרֹב גַּם זֶה בְּמִדָּה מְצֻמְצֶמֶת ְ כּמוֹ שֶׁעֵץ הָדָר אוֹהֵב אֶת ה ַ ַתּפּוּז, וּמֵעֵבֶר לָזֶה שׁוּרַת אִי ה ָ ֲבנוֹת ָ האוֹכ ִ ְלים בְּכָל פֶּה ָ בּאַהֲבָה הָאֲמ ִ ִתּית. הַאִם אֲנ ְ ַחנוּ אוֹה ִ ֲבים אֶת עַצ ֵ ְמנוּ, מַמָּשׁ ְ כּאַהֲבַת יְהוֹנָתָן אֶת דָּוִד? מוּטָב ֶ שׁנֹּאמַר ִ דּבּוּר שֶׁל אֱמֶת וְלֹא כְּפִי ֶ שׁקּוֹנֵן דָּוִד עַל יְהוֹנָתָן. אֶת עַצ ֵ ְמנוּ אֲנ ְ ַחנוּ אוֹה ִ ֲבים בִּמ ִ ְסירוּת ַ ק ִ שּׁוּבים לְעַצ ֵ ְמנוּ קֶשֶׁב מֻחְלָט. וְאַף זֹאת בִּב ִ ְחינַת ִ שׁפּוּר מַמָּשִׁי ֶ שׁ ְאַך לִפְנֵי חֳד ִ ָשׁים מְע ִ ַטּים נִתְקַף גּוּפֵנוּ כּ ִ ְמיהָה חֲזָקָה לְהַשׁ ִ ְל ְיך אֶת ע ְ ַצמוֹ בִּד ִ ְחיפוּת מִן הַגָּג.

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הבגד ְאַתּ יוֹדַעַת, ִ היא אָמְרָה, תּ ְ ָפרוּ ל ְָך בֶּגֶד מֵאֵשׁ, ְאַתּ זוֹכֶרֶת ֵ א ְיך נִשְׂרְפָה א ְ ִשׁתּוֹ שֶׁל יָאזוֹן בִּבְג ֶ ָד ָיה? זֹאת מ ֵ ֵדיאָה, ִ היא אָמְרָה, ַ הכֹּל עָשְׂתָה לָהּ מ ֵ ֵדיאָה. ְאַתּ צ ִ ְריכָה ל ְ ִהיוֹת ִ זְהירָה, ִ היא אָמְרָה. ָתּ ְ פרוּ ל ְָך בֶּגֶד מ ִ ַזְהיר ְ כּמוֹ רֶמֶץ, בּוֹעֵר ְ כּמוֹ גֶח ִ ָלים. ְאַתּ תִּלְבְּשִׁי אוֹתוֹ? ִ היא אָמְרָה, אַל תִּלְבְּשִׁי אוֹתוֹ. זֶה לֹא ָ ה ַרוּח שׁוֹרֵק, זֶה הָרַעַל מְפַעְפֵַּע. א ִ ֲפלּוּ ֵ אינ ְֵך ִ נְסיכָה, מַה תַּעֲשִׂי לְמ ֵ ֵדיאָה? ְאַתּ צ ִ ְריכָה לְה ְַב ִ חין ְ בּקוֹלוֹת, ִ היא אָמְרָה, זֶה לֹא ָ ה ַרוּח שׁוֹרֵק. ְאַתּ זוֹכֶרֶת, אָמַרְתִּי לָהּ, אֶת הַזְּמַן שֶׁהָיִיתִי בַּת שֵׁשׁ? ח ְ ָפפוּ אֶת רֹאשִׁי בְּשׁ ְ ַמפּוֹ וְכָכָה י ָ ָצאתִי ל ְ ָרחוֹב. ֵ ר ַיח הַח ִ ֲפיפָה נִמְשׁ ְַך אַחֲרַי כְּעָנָן. אַחַר כּ ְָך הָיִיתִי ָחוֹלה מִן ָ ה ַרוּח וּמִן הַגֶּשֶׁם. עוֹד לֹא הֵבַנְתִּי ל ְ ִקרֹא אָז טְרָג ִ ֶדּיוֹת יְוָנִיּוֹת, אֲבָל ֵ ר ַיח ַ הבֹּשֶׂם נָדַף וְהָיִיתִי חוֹלָה ְ מאֹד. ַ היּוֹם אֲנִי מ ִ ְבינָה שֶׁזֶּה בֹּשֶׂם בִּלְתִּי טִבְעִי. מַה יִּהְיֶה אִתּ ְָך, ִ היא אָמְרָה, תּ ְ ָפרוּ ל ְָך בֶֶּגד בּוֹעֵר. תּ ְ ָפרוּ לִי בֶּגֶד בּוֹעֵר, אָמַרְתִּי, אֲנִי יוֹדַעַת. אָז מָה ְאַתּ עוֹמֶדֶת, אָמְרָה, ְאַתּ צ ִ ְריכָה לְהִזָּהֵר, הַאִם ְאַתּ לֹא יוֹדַעַת מַה זֶּה בֶּגֶד בּוֹעֵר? אֲנִי יוֹדַעַת, אָמַרְתִּי, אֲבָל לֹא לְהִזָּהֵר. ֵ ר ַיח ַ הבֹּשֶׂם ַ ההוּא מ ְַבלְבֵּל אֶת דַּעְתִּי. אָמַרְתִּי לָהּ: אַף אֶחָד לֹא חַיָּב לְהַס ִ ְכּים אִתִּי ֵ אינֶנִּי נוֹתֶנֶת ֵ אמוּן בִּטְרָג ִ ֶדּיוֹת יְוָנִיּוֹת. אֲבָל הַבֶּגֶד,אָמְרָה, הַבֶּגֶד בּוֹעֵר בָּאֵשׁ. מָה ְאַתּ אוֹמֶרֶת, צָעַקְתִּי, מָה ְאַתּ אוֹמֶרֶת? ֵ אין עָלַי בֶּגֶד ִבּכְלָל, הֲרֵי זֹאת אֲנִי ַ הבּוֹעֶרֶת.

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המערב הכחול אִם הָיָה שָׁם רַק כּ ִ ְביש וְח ְ ֻרבוֹת בָּתֵּי-מְלָאכָה וְצ ִ ָר ַיח אֶחָד ָ הרוּס וְכַמָּה פִּגְרֵי ְ מכוֹנוֹת, ַ מ ַדּוּע לֹא יָכֹלְתִּי לָבוֹא עַד ִ לבּוֹ שֶׁל הַשָּׂדֶה? ֵ אין ל ְָך דָבָר מַכ ִ ְאיב מִשָּׂדֶה שׁ ֶֶאבֶן נָחָה עַל ִ לבּוֹ אֲנִי רוֹצָה לְהַגִּ ַיע אֶל מֵעֵבֶר לַגִּבְעָה, רוֹצָה לְה ַַגִּיע רוֹצָה לָבוֹא. אֲנִי רוֹצָה לְהֵחָלֵץ מֵעֲבִי הָאֲדָמָה, מִכַּף רֶגֶל וְעַד רֹאשׁ מֵעֲבִי הָאֲדָמָה. אֲנִי רוֹצָה לְהַגִּ ַיע אֶל קְצֵה הַמַּחְשָׁבָה ֶ שׁאַף ֵ ר ִ אשׁיתָהּ ְמחַתֶּכֶת כְּס ִ ַכּין. אֲנִי רוֹצָה לַעֲלוֹת אֶל שׁוּלֵי הַשֶׁמֶשׁ ֶ וְשׁלֹּא אֶהְיֶה לְמ ֲ ַאכֹלֶת אֵשׁ. הַלְוַאי שֶׁאֶפְשָׁר הָיָה לְהַלּ ְֵך בְּרַגְלֵי ח ִ ֲס ִ ילים עַל פְּנֵי הַמַּיִם, הַלְוַאי שֶׁאֶפְשָׁר הָיָה לַעֲלוֹת בְּקֶשֶׁת גְּבוֹהָה שֶׁל קַרְנֵי ה ֶַשּׁמֶשׁ, הַלְוַאי שֶׁאֶפְשָׁר הָיָה לְהַגִּ ַיע אֶל כָּל הֶע ִ ָרים שֶׁמֵּעֵבֶר לַיָּם, הֲרֵי ל ְָך שׁוּב דָּבָר מַכ ִ ְאיב: חוֹף שֶׁל יָם שׁ ֵ ֶאין בּוֹ ס ִ ְפינוֹת. ְ בּאַחַד הַיּ ִ ָמים הַבּ ִ ָאים בַּשָּׁנָה, תֶּחְשׁ ְַך עֵין הַיָּם ֵ מרֹב ס ִ ְפינוֹת. ְ בּאוֹתָהּ הַשָּׁעָה יֵרָקַע ִ כּ ִ יריעָה כָּל מַעֲבֵה הָאֲדָמָה. וְתִזְרַח לָנוּ שֶׁמֶשׁ כְּחֻלָּה כַּיָּם, תִּזְרַח לָנוּ שֶׁמֶשׁ חַמָּה ְ כּמוֹ עַיִן, שֶׁתַּמ ִ ְתּין לָנוּ עַד ֶ שׁנּוּכַל לַעֲלוֹת בְּלֶכְתָּה אֶל הַמַּעֲרָב ה ָ ַכּחֹל.

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השתדלות נוספת ִ אלּוּ יָכֹלְתִּי לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך כֻּל ְָך ֵ א ְיך אֶפְשָׁר לִי לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך כֻּל ְָך, א ִ ֲפלוּ יוֹתֵר מִן הַפּ ִ ְס ִ ילים ה ֲ ָא ִ הוּבים יוֹתֵר מִן הֶה ִ ָרים הַח ִ ֲצוּבים ְ בּיוֹתֵר; יוֹתֵר מִמּ ְ ִכרוֹת הַפֶּחָם ַ הבּוֹעֵר, נֹאמַר מ ְ ִכרוֹת הַפֶּחָם ה ָ ַכּבוּי וְהֶבֶל ַ היּוֹם ַ הבּוֹעֵר כּ ַ ְתנּוּר. לוּ אֶפְשָׁר לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך לְכָל הַשָּׁנִים ֵ א ְיך אֶפְשָׁר לְה ִ ַשּׂיג ְאוֹתך מִכָּל הַשָּׁנִים, ֵ א ְיך אֶפְשָׁר לְהַא ִ ֲר ְיך אֶת הַזְּ ַרוֹע ָ האַחַת כְּפֶלֶג אֶחָד שֶׁל נָהָר ְ בּאַפ ִ ְריקָה, כּ ְ ִראוֹת בַּחֲלוֹם אֶת מִפְרַץ הַסְּעָרוֹת כּ ְִראוֹת בַּחֲלוֹם אֳנִיָּה שֶׁטָּבְעָה, כְּשֵׁם שֶׁמְּד ִ ַמּים עֲנָנִים ִ כּ ַיצוּע שׁוֹשַׁנֵּי עֲנָנִים כְּי ַָצוּע לַגּוּף, ְאַך בּ ְ ִרצוֹת ְָך הֵם לֹא ָ יִשּׂ ָאוּך אַל תַּאֲמֵן כִּי ָ יִשּׂ ָאוּך. לוּ אֶפְשָׁר לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך כֻּל ְָך - שֶׁבְּכֻלּ ְָך לוּ אֶפְשָׁר לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך ְ כּמוֹ הַמַּתֶּכֶת, נֹאמַר ְ כּמוֹ ע ִ ַמּוּדים שֶׁל נְחשֶׁת, נֹאמַר ְ כּמוֹ עַמּוּד נְחשֶׁת סְגֻלָּה (הָעַמּוּד שֶׁזָּכַרְתִּי בַּקַּיִץ שֶׁעָבַר); וְקַרְקַע הַיָּם ֶ שׁלֹּא ר ִ ָאיתִי וְקַרְקַע הַיָּם שֶׁאֲנִי רוֹאָה ְ בּעֹמֶס שֶׁל אֶלֶף ס ְֻבּכֵי-אֲוִיר אֶלֶף ֵ וּמאָה ִ נְשׁימוֹת כּ ֵ ְבדוֹת. לוּ אֶפְשָׁר לְה ִ ַשּׂיג אוֹת ְָך כֻּלּ ְָך - שֶׁבְּעַכְשָׁו ֵ א ְיך אֶפְשָׁר שֶׁתִּהְיֶה לִי ְ כּמוֹ אֲנִי עַצְמִי.

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התרוששות אִם לְה ְ ִתרוֹשֵׁשׁ אֲנִי רוֹצָה ְ כּמוֹ אֶרֶץ חֲרֵבָה אִם לְה ְ ִתרוֹשֵׁשׁ אֲנִי רוֹצָה בְּג ֲַאוָה. סִפְרֵי תּוֹרָה מ ִ ַצּ ִ ילים מִן הָאֵשׁ אוֹתִי לֹא. אֲנִי רוֹצָה לְבַקֵּשׁ שֶׁאִם אָמוּת אֶהְיֶה כָּאֳנִיָּה ְ טרוּפָה; מַיִם שׁ ֵ ֶאין לָהֶם סוֹף ַ יְכבּוּ אֶת הַשְּׂרֵפָה. זכרון תמים רַק כְּשֶׁהַפָּנִים נִמ ָ ְחקוֹת אֶפְשָׁר לִזְ כֹּר פֹּה דָבָר בִּשְׁלֵמוּתוֹ, רַק כְּשֶׁהַפָּנִים נִמ ָ ְחקוֹת. ָ וְהאוֹרוֹת מ ְ ִשׁתּוֹל ִ ְלים וְהַצְּב ִ ָעים חוֹרְגִים מִמִּסְגָּרוֹת. כּוֹכ ִ ָבים ִ צוֹנְחים מ ְ ִמּקוֹמָם ְ כּמוֹ ִ חוֹלים נִכ ִ ְפּים. דִּשׁ ִ ָאים מִן ָ האָרֶץ נֶאֱנ ִ ָקים (כְּאֵב צ ִ ְמיחָתָם גָּדוֹל מֵחֶבְלֵי הַכּ ִ ְמישָׁה). כָּל ַהדְּב ִ ָרים שֶׁטּ ִ ָחים אֶת עֵינֵינוּ נְסוֹגִים אֶל הַצְּל ִ ָלים, וְגַם הַפָּנִים. מ ֶ ַשּׁהוּ זָע בַּמַּעֲמ ִ ַקּים. כַּמָּה י ִ ָמים כַּמָּה שָׁנִים, סוּפוֹת וּרְע ִ ָמים ח ִ ִכּינוּ לָזֶה שׁ ְ ֶיִּפרֹץ ֵ מעֹמֶק הָאֲדָמָה, ָ זִכּרוֹן אֶחָד תּ ִ ָמים כְּפֶרַח שׁוֹשָׁן אָדֹם בּ ִ ָהיר.

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חיפשתי ולא מצאתי את חולצתי השחורה עֲרֵמַת הַבְּג ִ ָדים מִתְגַּבַּהַת עַל כִּסֵּא ֵ וְאינֶנִּי ֵ מוֹצאת ְ בּתוֹכָהּ אֶת חֻלְצָתִי ה ְ ַשּׁחוֹרָה זאת החלצה שרציתי ללבש בִּכְדֵי ל ְ ִקנוֹת אֶת לִבּ ְָך. אֲנִי לֹא מ ִ ַכּירָה אֶת כָּל שׂ ְ ִמלוֹתַי וְגַם לֹא מ ַָמּשׁ זוֹכֶרֶת אוֹת ְָך. לַיְלָה אֶחָד ע ִ ָשׂינוּ ַ שׁמּוֹת בִּי וּב ְָך. הַיּ ִ ָמים חוֹל ִ ְפים שָׁנָה עוֹבֶרֶת בְּלִי מַנְגִּינָה אֲנִי נִשְׁאֶרֶת. אֲנִי אִשָּׁה ֶ שׁאַף פַּעַם ְ בּשׁוּם ָ מקוֹם לֹא לָמְדָה לְנַגֵּן. תּ ְ ִשׁמֹר עָלַי הַפַּעַם ֶ שׁנּוּכַל לְנַחֵשׁ כּ ְֵמיטַב הַיְכֹלֶת מַה ָ קּרוֹב יוֹתֵר, מוֹתִי אוֹ מוֹת ְָך? ֵ וּבין אֶפ ָ ְשׁרוּת ָ כּזוֹ וְאַחֶרֶת הַמַּנְגִּינָה ֵ אינֶנָּה נִשְׁאֶרֶת. כָּל לַיְלָה אֲנִי צוֹלַחַת ָ נְהרוֹת ח ִ ַמּים שׁוֹרְצֵי תַּנִּינִים. מַה שֶּׁהָיָה הָיָה. לֹא יְאֻמַּן בּ ֵ ְאיזוֹ ַ קלּוּת דַּעַת שָׁכַח ְָתּ ֵ א ְיך פַּעַם אַחַת בַּחַיִּים הָיִיתִי אִשָּׁה חַיָּה. חֲבָל עַל ְ דּאָב ִ ְדין וְלֹא מִשְׁתַּכּ ִ ְחים בִּמְיֻחָד בַּלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה ֶ שׁצּוֹרֵב אוֹתִי כִּכְוִיָּה. מַה שֶּׁהָיָה הָיָה. תִּדְבַּק לְשׁוֹנִי לְחִכִּי אִם אֹמַר עוֹד פַּעַם מ ִ ִלּים שֶׁל אַהֲבָה. דְּבַשׁ וּבְשׂ ִ ָמים ֵ וְריחוֹת רוֹזְמ ִ ָרין הֵם מַה ֶ שּׁנּוֹתַר לִי מִמּ ְָך. וְהַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה ְאָרֹך כָּל כּ ְָך וְאָיֹם כּ ָ ְנִגְדּלוֹת מַה נִּשְׁתַּנָּה הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה מִכָּל הַלֵּילוֹת. לֹא אַהֲבָה אֲנִי מְבַקֶּשֶׁת רַק מַיִם ר ִ ַבּים מֵעַל ְלרֹאשִׁי שׁ ַ ֶיְּכבּוּ אֶת ָ האַהֲבָה. כָּל ֵ מימֵי הַיָּם ה ִ ַתּיכוֹן וְהַיָּם ָ האָדֹם וְהַיָּם ה ָ ַשּׁחוֹר הֵם מַיִם שֶׁל שַׁלְוָה.

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וַתֵּר לִי הַפַּעַם שְׁלַח אוֹתִי לְחָפְשִׁי וַאֲנִי אֶהְיֶה מְנֻחֶמֶת וְחָפְשִׁיָּה. לֹא יִמְצְאוּנִי ַ השּׁוֹמ ִ ְרים ַ הסּוֹבְבִים ַ בּחוּץ לֹא יִפְצְעוּנִי וְלֹא יַכּוּנִי פַּעַם שׁ ִ ְל ִ ישׁית אוֹ שְׁנִיָּה. אֲבָל אַתָּה יָשֵׁן שֵׁנָה שֶׁל שִׁכְחָה וְחוֹלֵם עָל ֶָיך וְעַל עַצְמ ְָך וְגַם לִי יֵשׁ ַכֹּח בִּלְתִּי ְ משֹׁעָר ל ְ ִשׁ ַכֹּח מַה שֶּׁצּ ִ ָר ְיך ל ְ ִשׁ ַכֹּח בְּעִקָּר ל ְ ִשׁ ַכֹּח אוֹת ְָך. חמדה שָׁם יָדַעְתִּי חֶמְדָּה ֶ שׁלֹּא הָיְתָה ָ כּ ָמוֹה, וְהַזְּמַן ַ ההוּא הָיָה יוֹם הַשׁ ִ ְביעִי בְּשַׁבַּת וְכָל בַּדֵּי ִ אילָנוֹת ָ היוּ מִתְעַצּ ִ ְמים ל ִַגְבֹּהּ. ָ וְהאוֹר הָל ְַך מִסּ ִ ָביב שׁוֹטֵף כְּנָהָר ל ִַנְבֹּע, וְגַלְגַּל הָעַיִן אֶת גַּלְגַּל ַהחַמָּה חָמַד. אָז יָדַעְתִי חֶמְדָּה ֶ שׁלֹּא הָיְתָה ָ כּ ָמוֹה. ה ִ ִזְהירוּ ָ ראשֵׁי ה ִ ַשּׂ ִ יחים ָ וְהאוֹר לֹא יָדַע ָ שׂ ַבֹע, נִתּ ְַך בְּגַלֵּי הַנָּהָר וּבְכָל ְ אַד ָ ווֹתיו נִצַּת, אַף רֹאשִׁי הָיָה בְּעֵינָיו כּ ַ ְת ַפּוּח זָהָב ְ לב ַלֹע. שׁוֹשַׁנֵּי נָהָר צְהֻבּוֹת פָּעֲרוּ אֶת ִ פּיהֶן ל ְ ִב ַלֹע אֶת ְ אַדווֹת הַנָהָר בְּחָפְזָן ְ וְגִבעוֹל הָעֵשֶׂב הַשָׁט, וְאוֹתוֹ ַ היּוֹם הָיָה יוֹם הַשּׁ ִ ְביעִי בְּשַׁבָּת וְכָל בַּדֵּי ִ אילָנוֹת מִתְעַצּ ִ ְמים בּ ְ ִתשׁוּקָה ל ִַגְבֹּהּ וְאַז יָדַעְתִּי חֶמְדָּה ֶ שׁלֹא הָיְתָה ָ כּמוֹ ָה. ירק עלים שְׁנַת אֶלֶף תְּשַׁע ֵ מאוֹת וְתִשׁ ִ ְעים לְמִנְיַן ָ העוֹלָם הַמַּעֲרָבִי. יֶרֶק פּ ַָרוּע ע ִ ַתּיר רַח ִ ֲמים מְמַלֵּא אֶת ה ַ ַחלּוֹן מְנַמֵּר בִּפְר ִ ָחים בּוֹד ִ ְדים, וְר ִ ֻדּים צְהַבְה ִ ָבים ְ כּמוֹ ְ פּתוֹתֵי ח ִ ֲביתָה שֶׁהִתְפַּזְּרָה. פֶּרַח אָדֹם ָגּדוֹל לֹא פּוֹרֵץ ִ מ ְתּוֹך הַיּ ְ ַרקוּת. פֶּרַח גָּדוֹל בַּל יִמָּצֵא. שְׁנַת אֶלֶף תְּשַׁע ֵ מאוֹת וְתִשׁ ִ ְעים ֵ אינָהּ שְׁנַת הַפְּר ִ ָחים הַגְּ ִ דוֹלים. וְעַל הַיֶּרֶק מְכַסֶּה ת ִ ְריס שֶׁשְּׁל ָ ַבּיו רְו ִ ֵחים וְעַל הַתּ ִ ְריס וִילוֹן אָרוּג מַעֲשֵׂה חוֹרֵי ְפּ ִ טוֹרים ִ וְצ ִ יצים.

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לֹא הָיְתָה לִי שָׁנָה רָעָה ִ מזֹּאת בְּכָל יְמֵי חַיַּי וְי ְ ַרקוּת הָע ִ ֵצים מַגִּירָה רַח ִ ֲמים ְ כּמוֹ תְמִסַּת מַטֶרְנָה שֶׁיֵּשׁ בָּהּ חֲלַב אֵם מְלָאכוּתִי, קַל ְ ְציוּם ִ וּמינֶר ִ ָלים. י ִ ַקּירִי, שָׁנָה שֶׁל אוֹר וָצֵל יְר ִ ֻקּים וַאֲרִיג חוֹרַי וּת ִ ְריס ְ פּעוּר רְפָפוֹת ֵ אינָהּ בְּגֶדֶר שְׁנַת חַיִּים. בִּשְׁנַת אֶלֶף תְּשַׁע ֵ מאוֹת וְתִשׁ ִ ְעים אָזְ לוּ מִמֶּנִּי הַחַיִּים ְ כּמוֹ גוּפוֹת תּוֹעֵי מִדְבָּר שֶׁכָּל נוֹזְלֵי גוּפָם י ְ ָבשׁוּ בְּהַמְתָּנָה ל ִ ַחלּוּץ. כישופים ַ היּוֹם אֲנִי גִבְָעה, מָחָר אֲנִי יָם. כָּל יוֹם אֲנִי תוֹעָה כִּבְאֵר שֶׁל מִרְיָם, כָּל יוֹם אֲנִי בּוּעָה אוֹבֶדֶת בּ ִ ַנְּק ִ יקים. בַּלַּיְלָה חָלַמְתִּי ִ סוּסים אֲד ִ ֻמּים סְג ִ ֻלּים וִיר ִ ֻקּים, לַבֹּקֶר הִקְשַׁבְתִּי פּ ְ ִכ ְפּוּך עַד ֵ אין קֵץ, ק ְ ִשׁקוּשׁ שֶׁל תּ ִ ֻכּים, הַיּוֹם אֲנִי שׁ ְ ַבּלוּל מָחָר אֲנִי עֵץ רָם כַּתָּמָר. א ְ ֶתמוֹל הָיִיתִי ְכּוּך ַ היּוֹם אֲנִי צְד ִ ָפית. מָחָר אֲנִי מָחָר. כתמי אור ַ וּבחֹמֶר הַזֶּה ָ האָפֵל נִט ָ ְבּעוּ כְּת ִ ָמים שֶׁל אוֹר וְלֹא נִשְׁמַע בָּהֶם קוֹל וְרַחַשׁ בָּם לֹא יַעֲבֹר וְהֵם ְ כּמוֹ שׁ ֶֶמן ַ המּוֹר נִגּ ִ ָרים וְזוֹל ִ ְפים מִן הַפּ ְָך. וְהֵם נִגּ ִ ָרים כִּבְשׂ ִ ָמים וְרַכָּה וּשְׁלֵוָה ְ תנוּעָתָם ַ וּבחֹמֶר הַזֶּה ָ האָפֵל הֵם נִקְוִים ל ַ ְמ ַבּוּע קָטָן וְיֵשׁ בָּהֶם חֵן וְחֶמְדָּה ֶ שׁ ִ גּוֹאים וְעוֹב ִ ְרים עַל גְּ דוֹתָם.

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ַ וּבחֹמֶר הַזֶּה ָ האָפֵל נִבְעָה מִכְרֶה שֶׁל זָהָב ַ וְהחֹמֶר הַזֶּה ָ האָפֵל מְגַלֶּה אֶת מַעֲמ ָ ַקּיו וְיֵשׁ אַהֲבָה עֲנֻגָּה ֵ בּין ָ האֹפֶל ל ֵ ְבין הַזָּהָב. וְהֵם ח ִ ֲבוּקים וּשְׁלֵוִים ֵ וְאין בָּהֶם קוֹל וּמַשָּׁב ָ וְהאוֹר מְנַטֵּף וְנוֹשֵק אֶת ַ החֹמֶר הַזֶּה בִּשְׂפ ָ ָתיו ָ וְהאֹפֶל הוֹפ ְֵך אֶת גּוּפוֹ כִּבְאֵר לְכִתְמֵי הַזָּהָב. ַ בּחֹמֶר הַזֶּה ָ האָפֵל נִט ָ ְבּעוּ כְּת ִ ָמים שֶׁל אוֹר וְלֹא נִשְׁמַע בָּהֶם קוֹל וְרַחַשׁ בָּם לֹא יַעֲבֹר. וְהֵם ְ כּמוֹ שֶׁמֶן ַ המּוֹר נִגּ ִ ָרים וְזוֹל ִ ְפים מִן הַפּ ְָך. מחלון וכליון ַ מהוּ הַדָּבָר הַמּ ְֻפלָא הַזֶּה? אִם יֹאחַז בִּי הַמֻּפְלָא הַזֶּה כִּשׁ ִ ְפיפוֹן עַל בִּצְעֵי הַמַּיִם ה ְ ַשּׁ ִ חוֹרים, יֶחְשׁ ְַך יוֹמִי וַאֲנִי אֹבַד. אִם יֹאחַז בִּי הַדָּבָר הַמֻּפְלָא הַזֶּה, ֵ בּין שִׁבְעָה ִ יַמּים אֲנִי נָפוֹץ, עֶדְנַת ֵ איב ִ ָרים עַל בִּצְעֵי הַמַּיִם צ ִ ָפים ל ָ ַמּקוֹם הַמֻּפְלָא ַ ההוּא. ַ מהוּ הַדָּבָר הַמֻּפְלָא הַזֶּה? גֻּמּוֹת שֶׁל אוֹר עַל בִּצְעֵי הַמַּיִם, וּשְׁפִיפוֹנִים שֶׁבַּמִּדְבּ ִ ָריּוֹת נֶאֱנ ִ ָקים כָּמוֹנִי, כָּמוֹנִי. ַ וּמהוּ הַדָּבָר הַמֻּפְלָא הַזֶּה? הַמֻּפְלָא הַזֶּה כְּבָר בָּא וּפְגָעַנִי, רֹאשִׁי מְצַיֵּץ כּ ִ ְצפּוֹר וּפוֹר ֵַח וַאֲנִי מ ְ ִתרוֹנֵן וְאוֹבֵד כְּפֶתִי.

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מים רבים אֳנִיָּה צָפָה בְּלִי עֹגֶן. יֵשׁ לָהּ מִפְרָשׂ אֲבָל בַּיָּם ֵ אין ַרוּח. הַיָּם מִתְרַחֵב הוּא נִשְׁפּ ְָך לָאוֹקְיָנוֹס. ֵ מאֹפֶק עַד אֹפֶק ֵ אין צֵל. הָאֳנִיָּה ע ִ ַתּיקָה מִן ה ֵ ַמּאָה הַחֲמֵשׁ עֶשְׂרֵה. ֵ אין לָהּ ָ מ ַנוֹע. ִ היא הִפ ִ ְליגָה ְ להוֹדוּ. הַלֶּחֶם הִתְעַפֵּשׁ. פָּרְצָה בָּהּ מַגֵּפָה. הַמִּפְרָשׂ ָ ק ַרוּע. הַמַּיִם אָזְ לוּ. אוּלַי ִ סירַת ִ יְל ִ ידים תּ ַַגִּיע וְת ִ ָביא ִ תּירָס אוֹ מ ֶ ַשּׁהוּ ל ְ ִב ַלֹע. רַב ַ החוֹבֵל נוֹאָשׁ הוּא קוֹפֵץ לַמַּיִם. מוּטָב לוֹ ל ְ ִט ַבֹּע. בֵּינְתַיִם הוּא צָף בּ ָ ְס ְמוּך לָאֳנִיָּה. ַ החוֹבֵל הַשֵּׁנִי מִסְתַּכֵּל בַּמִּשְׁקֶפֶת. ֵ אין הוֹדוּ ֵ וְאין לֶחֶם. ֵ אין בָּשָׂר ֵ וְאין דָּגִים. מַלָּח אֶחָד נָעַץ שִׁנָּיו בְּקֶרֶשׁ ָ רקוּב. הָרָעָב אָיֹם. ָהאֳנִיָּה לֹא תַּגִּ ַיע ְ לשׁוּם ָ מקוֹם. הָאֳנִיָּה ַ הזֹּאת ִ היא דַּלְיָה מָרִיָה ִ היא תִּטְבַּע ַ היּוֹם ִ היא טוֹבַעַת ַ היּוֹם.

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מיקי היקר בַּלֵּילוֹת אֲנִי חוֹשֶׁבֶת תּ ִ ָמיד עַל ִ מיקִי, וְכַמָּה ֶ שׁהוּא נֶחֱמָד. ִ מיקִי חִיּ ְֵך אֵלַי בְּעֵינֵי הַתְּכֵלֶת ִוְלבִּי עָמַד. ִ מיקִי הֶח ִ ָביב, ִ מיקִי הַיָּקָר. פַּעַם הָיָה ק ִ ַפּיטָן בִּס ִ ְפינַת מִלְחָמָה, בַּמַּשְׁחֶתֶת הָיָה נוֹסֵַע ָ ה ְלוֹך וָשׁוב מ ִ ַתּיז נ ְ ַח ִ שׁוֹלים ֵ בּין כְּר ִ ֵתים לִסְפָרַד. ִ מיקִי הֶח ִ ָביב עֶשׂ ִ ְרים שָׁנָה הוּא הוֹל ְֵך וְקָטֵן כִּמְעַט נֶהְפּ ְַך לְגַמָּד. ִ מיקִי הַיָּקָר. לִפְנֵי עֶשׂ ִ ְרים וְחָמֵשׁ שָׁנָה הָיָה ִ מיקִי סַפַּן מִלְחָמָה פּ ִ ַסּים שֶׁל זָהָב ָ היוּ עַל שׁ ְ ַרווּלוֹ כִּמְעַט הִתְפַּקַּע ִ מיקִי מִגַּאֲוָה בַּלֵּילוֹת הָיָה שׁוֹתֶה לְשָׁכְרָה בַּיּ ִ ָמים הָיָה מַעֲלֶה נ ְ ַח ִ שׁוֹלים, ְ כּמוֹ לִוְיָתָן זוֹרְרָה הַמַּשְׁחֶתֶת ֶ שׁלּוֹ עֵינָיו דּ ְ ָמעוּ ֵ מאַהֲבָה. אַחַר כּ ְָך ַ הכֹּל הִשְׁתַּנָּה. כְּבָר עֶשׂ ִ ְרים וּשְׁתַּיִם שָׁנָה לֹא קָנָה עֲנִיבָה חֲדָשָׁה, ִ מיקִי ֵ אינוֹ מַה שֶּׁהָיָה, ְ כּמוֹ שֶׁהִב ִ ְריקוּ עֵינָיו בִּנְמַל אֲג ִ ָדיר לֹא הִב ִ ְריק א ִ ֲפלּוּ הַיָּם. עַכ ָ ְשׁיו ִ מיקִי בֶּן חֲמ ִ ִשּׁים וְיֵשׁ לוֹ שְׁנֵי יְל ִ ָדים בָּנָיו שֶׁל ִ מיקִי גְד ִ ֵלים אֲבָל ֵ אין בּ ִ ְלבּוֹ שִׂמְחָה. הַשָּׁנִים ַ ה ְ חוֹלפוֹת ֵ אינָן ֵ מ ִ יטיבוֹת ִ אתּוֹ, ֵ אין הוּא מַק ִ ְפּיד עַל ְ לבוּשׁוֹ. ִ מיקִי הַיָּקָר, מָה ע ִ ָשׂיתִי ל ְָך? כְּשֶׁעֵינָיו הַכְּחֻלּוֹת מִתְמ ְ ַלּאוֹת דּ ָ ְמעוֹת הֵן זַכּוֹת יוֹתֵר ִ משּׁוֹשַׁנִּים יוֹתֵר מִדְּגָנִיּוֹת יוֹתֵר מִכָּל דָּבָר.

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סימנים כְּשׁ ַ ֶהכּוֹס נוֹפֶלֶת, ר ִ ְסיס נִתָּז, וּפִסַּת נְיָר נִשְׁמֶטֶת וּמ ֶ ַשּׁהוּ זָח אוֹ זָז וּמ ֶ ַשּׁהוּ חוֹרֵג מִן ה ִַמּסְגֶּרֶת הַנְּכוֹנָה צ ִ ָר ְיך לְהִשָּׁמֵר מִזֶּה ְ מאֹד. עַכ ָ ְשֹו אֲנִי כּוֹתֶבֶת וּמַפ ִ ְסיקָה, אֶפְשָׁר ל ְ ַחשֹׁב, דַּפֵּי נְיָר ר ִ ַבּים נִת ְ ְקעוּ לִי בִּגְרוֹנִי. אֲנִי, אִם אֶפְשָׁר כּ ְָך לוֹמַר, כְּבַר לֹא אֲנִי. אֲנִי לְמֶחְצָה, פּוֹחֶתֶת בִּמ ִ ְהירוּת. יֵשׁ ַנִיע בָּאֲוִיר. הַתַּבְנִית חֲסֵרָה, אוּלַי אֲנִי ִ היא ַ הנּוֹפֶלֶת בִּמ ִ ְהירוּת. וַאֲנִי מְסָרֶבֶת לְהַא ִ ֲמין אֲנִי מַמָּשׁ מְסָרֶבֶת ל ְ ִראוֹת. סינדרלה במטבח ה ָ ַשּׁעוֹת ַ הטּוֹבוֹת שֶׁל סִינְדֶּרֶלָה ע ְ ָברוּ שָׁם לְמַטָּה בַּמִּטְבָּח הָיְתָה לָהּ חֵרוּת הַדַּעַת אִם נֹאמַר אֶת זֶה כּ ְָך. ִ היא הִדְּקָה אֶת י ֶ ָד ָיה אֶל ַ ר ֶ קּוֹת ָיה ַ שׂ ֶ ערוֹת ָיה ָ היוּ מְכֻסּוֹת שֻׁמָּן. ִ היא הִפ ִ ְליגָה בְּדַעְתָּהּ לְמֶרְח ִ ַקּים בִּלְתִּי ְ משֹׁע ִ ָרים בִּלְתִּי מֻסְבּ ִ ָרים ְ תּחוּשׁוֹת שֶׁיָּדְעָה בְּלִי לִנְקֹב בִּשְׁמָן. ִ וְהיא הִשׁ ִ ְפּילָה אֶת עֵינ ֶָיה ל ִ ַסּנּוֹר הַמְרֻבָּב וְהַמֻּכְתָּם וְיָדְעָה ֵ איזֶה מֶרְחָק גָּדוֹל יֵשׁ ֵ בּין הָכָא לְהָתָם אִם בִּכְלָל נִתָּן לְשַׁעֵר וּמַה שֶּׁמַּת ִ ְחיל ָ כּאן וְעַכְשָׁו ֵ אין לוֹ ִ סיּוּם בַּזְּמָן וְלֹא נְקֻדַּת זְמָן. ִ וְהיא עָשׂ ְָתה ס ִ ְביבָהּ ִ עגּוּל וְסִמְּנָה לְעַצְמָהּ ִ סימָן דּ ְ ִמיוֹנִי ַ כּמּוּבָן. וְרָאֲתָה אֶת הַשְׁתַּיִם הָהֵן ְ יוֹצאוֹת בּ ֵ ְמיטַב בּ ֵ ִגְדיהֶן הֲדוּרוֹת, ְ מפֹאָרוֹת, ְ נוֹטפוֹת בְּשׂ ִ ָמים נְטוּיוֹת גָּרוֹן.

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ִ וְהיא לֹא מַמָּשׁ רָצְתָה ל ְ ִהיוֹת בּ ְ ִמקוֹמַן. ָ אוֹצרוֹת ֵ אין-סוֹפִיִּים ָ היוּ לָהּ בַּדּ ְ ִמיוֹן מַמָּשׁ ֵ אין - סוֹפִיִּים ְ וּללֹא צוּרָה. הָיְתָה לָהּ פְּקַעַת קְטַנָּה שֶׁל חֹם בַּגָּרוֹן וְה ְ ַלמוּת לֵב עַזָּה, חוֹלָנִית. ִ וְהיא הָיְתָה ִ מחוּץ לְכֻלָּם בּוֹכִיָּה, קוֹדַחַת מוּכָנָה בְּכָל עֵת ל ְ ַחדֹּל לְהִת ְַקיֵּם. הָיְתָה לָהּ נְקֻדַּת תַּצ ִ ְפּית ִ נְדירָה בּ ִ ְרחוּקָהּ כּ ִ ְאלּוּ יָשְׁבָה עַל כּוֹכָב מַא ִ ְדּים כּוֹכַב הַמִּלְחָמָה. ִ וְהיא קָמְצָה אֶת אֶגְ רוֹפ ֶָיה וְאָמְרָה: אֲנִי ֵ יוֹצאת לַמִּלְחָמָה. וְאַחַר כּ ְָך נִרְדְּמָה. עגלה ערופה הָל ְַך עוֹד צַעַד הָל ְַך עוֹד כַּמָּה צְע ִ ָדים, נ ְ ָפלוּ לוֹ הַמִּשְׁקָפַיִם נָפְלָה לוֹ הַכִּפָּה. הָל ְַך עוֹד צַעַד ָ שׁטוּף בְּדָם, מוֹשׁ ְֵך רַגְלַיִם אַחֲרֵי עֲשָׂרָה צְע ִ ָדים כְּבָר לֹא יְהוּדִי לֹא עֲרָבִי, עַר ִ ְטילָאִי. ְ מהוּמַת א ִ ֱלֹהים; אֲנ ִ ָשׁים צוֹע ִ ֲקים; לָמָּה אַתֶּם רוֹצ ִ ְחים ָ אוֹתנוּ? וַאֲח ִ ֵרים מ ְ ִתרוֹצ ִ ְצים מְמַה ִ ֲרים לַעֲשׂוֹת נְקָמָה. וְהוּא מְחַרְחֵר עַל ָ האָרֶץ גּוּף ָ ק ַרוּע, וְהַדָּם שׁוֹתֵת ִ מ ְתּוֹך הַבָּשָׂר. הַדָּם שׁוֹתֵת ִ מ ְתּוֹך הַבָּשָׂר. הוּא מֵת פֹּה אוֹ שָׁם אִי בּ ִ ְהירוּת יֶשְׁנָהּ פֹּה. מָה אֲנַחְנוּ יוֹד ִ ְעים? נִמְצָא חָלָל בַּשָּׂדֶה.

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אוֹמ ִ ְרים, ִ יִסּוּרים מְמָר ִ ְקים עָוֹן. אָדָם ְ כּאָבָק פּוֹר ֵַח, ְאַך מִי ה ִ ָאישׁ שֶׁכּ ְָך בִּב ִ ְדידוּת שָׁכַב מְעַלֵַּע אֶת דּ ָ ָמיו? מַה הוּא ָ ראָה מַה הוּא שָׁמַע ְ בּ ְתוך ה ְ ַמּהוּמָה מֵעָלָיו? וְיֵשׁ ָ האוֹמ ִ ְרים, ֲחמוֹר שׂוֹנַא ֲָך עָזֹב תַּעֲזֹב ִ עמּוֹ. כִּי יִמָּצֵא חָלָל בַּשָּׂדֶה, כִּי יִמָּצֵא חָלָל בָּאֲדָמָה וְי ְ ָצאוּ זְקֵנ ֶָיך וְשָׁחֲטוּ עֶגְלָה וְאֶת אֶפְרָהּ בַּנַּחַל יְפַזְּ רוּ. [עומד על הכביש בלילה] עוֹמֵד עַל הַכּ ִ ְבישׁ בַּלַיְלָה ה ִ ָאישׁ הַזֶּה שֶׁהָָיה בְּשֶׁכְּבָר הַי ִ ָמים אַבָּא שֶׁלִּי. וְחַיֶבֶת אֲנִי לָגֶשֶׁת אֵלָיו ל ְ ִמקוֹם ע ְ ָמדוֹ מִפְּנֵי שֶׁאֲנִי הָיִיתִי הַבַּת ה ְ ַבּכוֹרָה ֶ שׁלּוֹ. וּבְכָל לַיְלָה וָלֵיל הוּא עוֹמֵד ל ַ ְבדּוֹ בּ ְ ִמקוֹמוֹ וַאֲנִי חַיֶּבֶת לֵירֵד ל ְ ִמקוֹמוֹ וְלָבוֹא. וְר ִ ָציתִי ל ְ ִשׁאֹל אֶת ה ִ ָאישׁ עַד מָתַי חַיֶבֶת אֲנִי. וְיָדַעְתִי זֹאת ֵ מרֹאשׁ שֶׁתּ ִ ָמיד חַיֶּבֶת אֲנִי. בּ ָ ָמּקוֹם ֶ שׁהוּא עוֹמֵד י ְ ֶשׁנוֹ חֲשַׁשׁ סַכָּנָה כּ ַ ְביּוֹם שֶׁהָל ְַך בַּכּ ִ ְבישׁ וְדָרְסָה אוֹתוֹ ְ מכוֹנִית. וְכ ְַך הִכַּרְתִּי אוֹתוֹ וְנָתַתִּי בּוֹ סִימָנִים שֶׁזֶּה ה ִ ָאישׁ ע ְ ַצמוֹ הָיָה פַּעַם אַבָּא שֶׁלִּי. וְהוּא ֵ אינוֹ מְדַבֵּר לִי מִלַּת אַהֲבָה אַחַת ל ְ ַמרוֹת שֶׁהָיָה בְּשֶׁכְּבָר ה ִ ַיָּמים אַבָּא שֶׁלִּי וְל ְ ַמרוֹת שֶׁאֲנִי הָיִיתִי הַבַּת ה ְ ַבּכוֹרָה ֶ שׁלּוֹ הוּא ֵ אינוֹ יָכוֹל לְדַבֵּר לִי מִַלּת אַהֲבָה אַחַת.

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פורטרט ִ היא יוֹשֶׁבֶת י ִ ָמים ר ִ ַבּים בּ ֵ ְביתָהּ. ִ היא ֵ קוֹראת עִתּוֹנִים. (מַה יֵּשׁ, אַתָּה לֹא קוֹרֵא?) ִ היא ֵ אינָהּ עוֹשָׂה מַה שֶּׁהָיְתָה רוֹצָה לַעֲשׂוֹת יֵשׁ לָהּ ִ ע ִ כּוּבים. ִ היא רוֹצָה וָנִיל, הַרְבֵּה וָנִיל, תֵּן לָהּ וָנִיל. ַ בּחֹרֶף קַר לָהּ, קַר לָהּ מַמָּשׁ קַר לָהּ יוֹתֵר מֵאֲשֶׁר לַאֲח ִ ֵרים. ִ היא מִתְלַבֶּשֶׁת ֵ היטֵב וַעֲדַיִן קַר לָהּ. ִ היא רוֹצָה וָנִיל. ִ היא לֹא נוֹלְדָה א ְ ֶתמוֹל, אִם זֶה מַה ֶ שּׁאַתָּה חוֹשֵׁב. זֹאת לֹא פַּעַם ִ ראשׁוֹנָה שֶׁקַּר לָהּ. לֹא פַּעַם ִ ראשׁוֹנָה חֹרֶף. בְּעֶצֶם גַּם הַקַּיִץ ֵ אינֶנּוּ נ ִ ָעים. ִ היא ֵ קוֹראת עִתּוֹנִים יוֹתֵר מִמַּה שֶּׁהָיְתָה רוֹצָה. ַ בּחֹרֶף ִ היא לֹא זָזָה בְּלִי ַ תנּוּר. ְ נִמאָס לָהּ לִפְע ִ ָמים. הַאִם ִ היא בִּקְשָׁה מִמּ ְָך הַרְבֵּה דְב ִ ָרים? תּוֹדֶה ֶ שׁלֹּא. ִ היא רוֹצָה ָונִיל. אִם תִּרְצֶה לְה ִ ַבּיט מ ָ ִקּרוֹב, יֵשׁ לָהּ חֲצ ִ ָאית מְשֻׁבֶּצֶת. ִ היא אוֹהֶבֶת חֲצ ִ ָאית מְשֻׁבֶּצֶת כִּי זֶה ע ִ ַלּיז. לְה ִ ַבּיט עָל ֶָיה, אַתָּה תִצְחַק. ַ הכֹּל ְ מגֹח ְָך כָּל כּ ְָך. א ִ ֲפלּוּ ִ היא צוֹחֶקֶת לָזֶה לִפְע ִ ָמים. קָשֶׁה לָהּ ַ בּחֹרֶף וְרַע לָהּ בַּקַּיִץ, אַתָּה תִצְחַק. אֶפְשָׁר לְהַגִּ יד ִ מימוֹזָה, עוֹף שׁ ֵ ֶאינוֹ פּוֹרֵח, אֶפְשָׁר לְהַגִּ יד הַרְבֵּה דְב ִ ָרים. ִ היא ת ִ ָמיד מִתְעַטֶּפֶת בְּמ ֶ ַשּׁהוּ וְנֶחְנֶקֶת, לִפְע ִ ָמים חֲצ ִ ָאית מְשֻׁבֶּצֶת וְעוֹד בְּג ִ ָדים תּ ְ ִשׁאַל, לָמָּה ִ היא מִתְע ֶַטּפֶת כְּשֶׁאֶפְשָׁר לְהֵחָנֵק? הַדְּב ִ ָרים הָאֵלֶּה מְסֻבּ ִ ָכים.

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זֶה ַ הקֹּר ַ בּחֹרֶף ַ וְהחֹם הַמֻּפְרָז בַּקַּיִץ, אַף פַּעַם לֹא ְ כּמוֹ שֶׁצּ ִ ְר ִ יכים. וְדֶר ְֶך אַגַּב, אַל תִּשְׁכַּח, ִ היא רוֹצָה וָנִיל, עַכְשָׁו ִ היא א ִ ֲפלּוּ בּוֹכָה. תֵּן לָהּ וָנִיל. פרנסה לַעֲזָאזֵל ה ִ ַשּׁיר, אֲנִי צ ִ ְריכָה ֵ מאָה וְעֶשׂ ִ ְרים שֶׁקֶל חָדָשׁ. וְזֹאת בְּע ְ ִקּבוֹת מַה שֶּׁשָׁמַעְתִּי מִמּ ְֵך וְשָׁמַעְתִּי אוֹת ְָך, וְשָׁמַעְתִּי אוֹת ְָך וְאוֹתֱָך וְאוֹת ְָך. לְשֵׁם מ ִ ְליצָה אוֹמ ִ ְרים עַל הַיָּם שׁ ֵ ֶאינֶנּוּ נָח. אֲנִי אֶל הַָיּם לֹא מַגִּ יעָה אֲנִי מִשְׂתָּרֶכֶת עַל מִדְרָכָה וְל ְָך ֵ אין ְ מנוּחָה וְלִי ֵ אין רְוָחָה וְהמִּר ָ ְצפוֹת מְע ָ ֻקּמוֹת וְזֶה רַק הַמְעַט שֶׁיֵּשׁ לִי לוֹמַר, וּבְעֶצֶם אֲנִי שׁוֹתֶקֶת שָׁנִים ֵ וְאינֶנִּי אוֹמֶרֶת שׁוּם דָּבָר, וְעַל כָּל הַתִּפְאֶרֶת וְרִקּ ַוּע ָ האוֹר אֲנִי מְוַתֶּרֶת בּ ַ ְקלּוּת כִּמְעַט שׁ ֵ ֶאינֶנִּי זוֹכֶרֶת, וְזֹאת בֶּאֱמֶת בְּעָיָה מ ִ ְציקָה מִבּ ִ ְחינָה מַע ִ ֲשׂית וּמִבּ ִ ְחינָה אַחֶרֶת. וְכָל מַה ֶ שּׁאָמַרְתִּי ֵ אינוֹ יוֹתֵר מִגְּנִיחָה חֲטוּפָה וְכּ ְ ִח ַכּוּח גָּרוֹן כּי לַעֲזָאזֵל ה ִ ַשּׁיר וְכָל אֲשֶׁר בּוֹ, אֲנִי צ ִ ְריכָה ֵ מאָה וְעֶשׂ ִ ְרים שֶׁקֶל חָדָשׁ בְּח ְ ֶשׁבּוֹן אַחֲרוֹן. רחיפה בגובה נמוך אֲנִי לֹא ָ כּאן. אֲנִי עַל ִ נְקיקֵי ה ִ ָרים מִזְרָחִיִּים מְנֻמּ ִ ָרים ִ פּסּוֹת שֶׁל קֶרַח בּ ָ ְמקוֹם שֶׁעֵשֶׂב לֹא צָמַח וְצֵל רָחָב נָטוּשׁ עַל ַ המּוֹרָד. רוֹעָה קְטַנָּה עִם צֹאן עִזִּ ים ְ שׁחוֹרוֹת הֵגִיחָה שָׁם ֵ מאֹהֶל לֹא נִרְאֶה. לֹא ִ תוֹציא אֶת יוֹמָהּ הַיַּלְדָּה ַ הזֹּאת בַּמִּרְעֶה.

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אֲנִי לֹא ָ כּאן. ְ בּ ַלֹע הַר פָּרַח ַ כּדּוּר אָדֹם, עֲדַיִן לֹא חַמָּה. בַּהֶרֶת ְ כּפוֹר ְ סמוּקָה וְחוֹלָנִית מ ְִתהַפֶּכֶת ַ בּ ַלֹּע. וְהַקְּטַנָּה הִשׁ ִ ְכּימָה כֹּה לָקוּם אֶל הַמִּרְעֶה גְּ רוֹנָהּ ֵ אינוֹ נָטוּי עֵינ ֶָיה לֹא ְ קרוּעוֹת ַ בּ ְפּוּך, לֹא מְשׂ ְ ַקּרוֹת ֵ אינָהּ שׁוֹאֶלֶת, מֵאַיִן יָבוֹא עֶזְרִי. אֲנִי לֹא ָ כּאן. אֲנִי כְּבָר בֶּה ִ ָרים י ִ ָמים ר ִ ַבּים ָ האוֹר לֹא יִצְרְבֵנִי ה ְ ַכּפוֹר בִּי לֹא יִגַּע. שׁוּב ֵ אין לִי מַה לּ ְ ִלקוֹת בְּתַדְהֵמָה. דְּב ִ ָרים גְּ ִ רוּעים מֵאֵלֶּה ר ִ ָאיתִי בְּחַיַּי. אֲנִי אוֹסֶפֶת שִׂמְלָתִי וּמְרַחֶפֶת ָ ס ְמוּך ְ מאֹד אֶל הַקַּרְקַע. מַה ִ היא חָשְׁבָה לָהּ הַיַּלְדָּה ַ הזֹּאת? פְּר ִ ָאית לְמַרְאֶה, לֹא ְ רחוּצָה לְרֶגַע מ ְ ִשׁתּוֹפֶפֶת בִּכ ִ ְריעָה. לְחָי ֶָיה ַ רכּוֹת כְּמֶשִׁי פִּצְעֵי קֹר עַל גַּב יָדָהּ. ְ פּזוּרַת דַּעַת, כִּבְיָכוֹל ַ קשּׁוּבָה, לַא ִ ֲמתּוֹ שֶׁל דָּבָר. וְעוֹד ְ נוֹתרוּ לָהּ כּ ְָך וְכ ְָך ָ שׁעוֹת. אֲנִי לֹא בָּעִנְיָן הַזֶּה ָהגִ יתִי. מַח ְ ְשׁבוֹתַי רִפְּדוּנִי בִּר ִ ְפידָה שֶׁל ְמוֹך מ ָ ָצאתִי לִי ִ שׁיטָה ְ פּשׁוּטָה ְ מאֹד, לֹא מִדְר ְַך כַּף רֶגֶל וְלֹא ָ מעוֹף. ר ִ ְחיפָה ְ בּגֹבַהּ נ ְָמוּך. אֲבָל בִּנְטוֹת צָהֲרַיִם ָ שׁעוֹת ַ רבּוֹת ְ לאַחַר ה ִ ַזְּריחָה עָלָה ה ִ ָאישׁ ַ ההוּא בָּהָר כִֹמְטַפֵּס לְפִי תֻמוֹ. וְהַיַּלְדָּה ְ קרוֹבָה אֵלָיו ְ מאֹד ֵ וְאין ִ אישׁ זוּלָתָם. וְאִם נִסְּתָה לְהִתְחַבֵּא אוֹ צָעֲקָה ֵ אין מ ְ ִסתּוֹר בֶּה ִ ָרים.

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אֲנִי לֹא ָ כּאן אֲנִי מֵעַל רֻכְסֵי ה ִ ָרים ְ פּ ִ רוּעים וַאֲי ִ ֻמּים בְּפַאֲתֵי מִזְרָח. עִנְיָן שׁ ֵ ֶאין צ ְִר ִ יכים לְהִתְעַכֵּב עָלָיו. אֶפְשָׁר בְּטַלְטֵלָה עַזָּה וּבִר ִ ְחיפָה לָחוּג בִּמ ִ ְהירוּת ָ ה ַרוּח. אֶפְשָׁר לְהִסְתַּלֵּק וּלְדַבֵּר עַל לֵב עַצְמִי: אֲנִי דָבָר לֹא ר ִ ָאיתִי. וְהַקְּטַנָּה עֵינ ֶָיה רַק ח ְ ָרגוּ ֵ מ ֵ חוֹריהֶן חִכָּה יָבֵשׁ כַּחֶרֶס, כְּשֶׁיָּד קָשָׁה לָפְתָה אֶת שְׂעָרָהּ וְאָחֲזָה בָּהּ ְ ללּא ק ְ ֻרטוֹב חֶמְלָה. שאון המים ִ צפּוֹר צִיְּצָה כִּמְשֻׁגַּעַת עַד אֶפֶס כֹּחָהּ וְאַחַר בָּכְתָה; אֲנִי שָׁקַעְתִּי בְּעָנָן שֶׁל נֹעַם, אֲנִי שָׁקַעְתִּי וַאֲנִי נְמוּגוֹתִי. לֹא, כִּי אֶל ָ האוֹקְיָנוֹס ֻטבַּעְתִּי שָׁם אָהַב אוֹתִי ִ אישׁ לֹא ִ הוֹתיר לִי ִ צפֹּרֶן. יָדוֹ אָחֲזָה בְּשַׂעֲרוֹתַי, בְּה ְ ַלמוּת ָ האוֹקְיָנוֹס חִשַּׁבְתִּי הִשָּׁבֵר. יָדוֹ מָשְׁכָה בְּשַׂעֲרוֹתַי בּ ִ ִנְחילֵי ָ האוֹקְיָנוֹס שׁוּב ְ מאוּם לֹא אֶזְ כֹּר. שברון לב בגן בְּהַיְד פַּארְק הַזּוֹר ֵַח, מוּל שַׁעַר הָאֶבֶן הַחַם, ָ היוּ א ָ ִמּהוֹת ַ רבּוֹת וּזְקֵנִים צ ִ ָפים מִנֶּגְדִּי ֵ וְאינָם ִ נוֹגְעים. דַּרְדּ ִ ַקּים שֶׁבּ ְ ָרחוּ מ ֵ ִבּית - סִפְרָם ה ְ ִקנִיטוּ אֶת בַּרְוְזֵי הַמַּיִם. כֶּלֶב פָּרַץ ְ ל ְתוֹך הָאֲגַם, וּקְהַל ָ העוֹפוֹת נִמ ְ ְלטוּ בְּת ְ ַרעֹמֶת. זְקֵנִים נ ְ ָפשׁוּ עַל כּ ְ ִסאוֹת-הַבָּד. שַׂמְתִּי לִבִּי לְה ִ ָבין שֶׁכָּל ַ ההוֹל ְֵך לְשָׁעָה כּ ִ ְאלּוּ אָבַד ְ לעוֹלָם.

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ִ ממּוּל, בַּקָּפֶה הֶעָנֹג, נָפוֹץ ֵ ר ַיח וָנִיל. גְּב ִ ָרים ִ נְע ִ ימים ְ אָספוּ אֶת מ ִ ְעיל ֵ נְשׁיהֶם. ְ סטוּדֶנְט מֵעָרֵי הַשָּׂדֶה שׁ ַָטח ֵ איב ַ ָריו עַל הַדֶּשֶׁא, נָתַן עֵינָיו בַּשָּׁמַיִם וְהָיָה ְ ממוֹלֵל עֲנָנִים. הֲמוֹנִים ס ְ ַסגּוֹנִים פִּזְּ זוּ עַל הַמַּד ֵ ְרגוֹת. ִ אוֹטוֹבּוּסים ָ היוּ מְד ִ ַדּים כְּעֵדֶר ִ פּ ִ ילים אֲד ִ ֻמים. כָּל אֵלֶּה שׁ ְ ָברוּ אֶת לִבִּי, מִפִי נֶע ְ ְתּקוּ מ ִ ִלּים. י ַָדעְתִּי שֶׁיֵּשׁ לִי ְ רשׁוֹת ְ לשׁוֹטֵט בּ ֵ ְאין מַכ ִ ְלים, לֹא הַרְחֵק מִשָּׁם הָיָה גַן ה ִ ַסּירוֹת הַשֵּׁנִי, וַהֲמוֹן ִ צ ִ יּוּצים וְס ְ ִל ִ סוּלים. לֹא ה ִ ֲבינוֹתִי עַד כַּמָּה לִבִּי נִצְבָּט מִן ַ החֹם, חָשַׁבְתִּי עַל הַוְּר ִ ָדים וְעַל צִבְעָם ה ָ ַכּתֹם, לֹא ָהיָה דָבָר יָפֶה יוֹתֵר מִן הַוְּר ִ ָדים. בְּסִדְקֵי ה ְ ַמּשׂוּכוֹת ה ַ ַדּקוֹת רָבַץ ַ החֹם כְּעַרְפָּד זֶה שָׁבַר אֶת לִבִּי כָּל-כּ ְָך, זֶה שָׁבַר אֶת לִבִּי. עַד מְהֵרָה נְמוּגוֹתִי כּ ְ ְזִמזוּם צִרְעָה פּוֹרַחַת. שונרה שׁוּנְרָה הָיְתָה לְבָנָה וּוְרֻדָּה ְכּעוּגַת מַאֲכָל; ִ היא הָיְתָה בְּלוֹנְדוֹן, ִ היא הָיְתָה ְ בּמוֹסְקְבָה, כָּל הַיּ ִ ָמים שֶׁלָּהּ ָ היוּ ִ דוֹמים לְשַׁבָּת עִם הַרְבֵּה עֲנָנִים, אֲבָל גִּנָּתָהּ פָּרְחָה ִ מיּוֹם ְ ליוֹם. בְּרֶדֶת הַגֶּשֶׁם דָּלַף הַבַּיִת ִ מתּוֹך גַּג שֶׁל זְ ִ כוּכית. ִ היא נִגְּשָׁה ל ַ ַחלּוֹן ִ וּמ ֶ ישׁהוּ חִכָּה לָהּ. הוּא קָרָא מִכְתָּב אֲבָל ִ היא בִּלְבְּלָה אֶת דּ ְ ַעתּוֹ. אָז הִנִּיחוֹ וְנִשֵּׁק אוֹתָהּ ְ כּעוּגַת מַאֲכָל. זֶה הָיָה ַ בּבֹּקֶר בְּשָׁעָה מְאֻחֶרֶת וְהוּא מִצְמֵץ בִּשְׂפ ָ ָתיו כָּל ַ היּוֹם, כָּל ַ היּוֹם. ָשׁוּנְרה הִנִּיחָה מ ִ ַפּית עַל בִּר ֶ ְכּ ָיה וְהָיְתָה מְלַקֶּקֶת עוּגַת וָנִיל.

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שיר חצות 1970 שׁוּב ְ כּמוֹ בַּשָּׁנִים ַ ה ְ קּוֹדמוֹת, חֲדַר הַשֵּׁנָה ָ ה ְפוּך, וְאֵפֶר בְּכָל ה ְ ַמּקוֹמוֹת. וּבְג ִ ָדים מֻטּ ִ ָלים בַּעֲרֵמָה, וְגַל מִכְתּ ִ ָבים ֶ שׁלֹּא נַעֲנוּ וּמִטָּה אַחַת חַמָּה. וְנוֹסָף לָזֶה יֵשׁ עַכְשָׁו מַגֵּפַת שַׁפַּעַת וַאֲנִי חוֹלָה בְּכָל ה ָ ַכּבוֹד. בַּשָּׁנָה ַ הזֹּאת וּבְכָל הַשָּׁנִים ה ָ ַבּאוֹת לֹא אַס ִ ְכּים לְוַתֵּר עַל ִ צפּוֹר קְטַנָּה אַחַת שֶׁעָפָה בְּגַנִּי, וְלֹא ִ אָמיר ִ צפּוֹר קְטַנָּה ְ בּיוֹנָה אוֹ ְ בּ ִ דוּכיפַת. וְעוֹד שָׁנָה ָ תּבוֹא וְשׁוּב ְ כּמוֹ תּ ִ ָמיד גְּרוֹנִי ָ חנוּק ֵ מאַהֲבָה. שיר של הסברים יֵשׁ אֲנ ִ ָשׁים ֶ שׁיּוֹד ִ ְעים לֶאֱהֹב וְיֵשׁ אֲנ ִ ָשׁים שֶׁזֶּה לֹא מַת ִ ְאים לָהֶם. יֵשׁ אֲנ ִ ָשׁים שֶׁמִּתְנַשּׁ ִ ְקים בּ ְ ָרחוֹב וְיֵשׁ אֲח ִ ֵרים שֶׁזֶּה לֹא ָנ ִ עים לָהֶם, וְלֹא רַק בּ ְ ָרחוֹב. אֲנִי חוֹשֶׁבֶת שֶׁזֶּה כּ ְ ִשׁרוֹן ְ כּמוֹ כָּל הַכּ ְ ִשׁרוֹנוֹת, אוּלַי זֶה ְ יִתרוֹן, ְ כּמוֹ חֲבַצֶּלֶת ה ָ ַשּׁרוֹן ֶ שׁיּוֹדַעַת ל ְ ִפ ַרֹח, ְ כּמוֹ שׁוֹשַׁנָּה בָּעֲמ ִ ָקים ֶ שׁבּוֹחֶרֶת לְעַצְמָהּ אֶת צְבָע ֶָיה. אַתָּה יוֹדֵַע שׁוֹשָׁן וַחֲבַצֶּלֶת כְּשֶׁהֵם פּוֹר ִ ְחים מ ִ ַכּים אוֹת ְָך בַּסַּנְו ִ ֵרים. ֵ אינֶנִּי אוֹמֶרֶת זֹאת כְּדֵי לְבַיֵּשׁ, י ַָדוּע לִי שֶׁיֵּשׁ גַּם אֲח ִ ֵרים. יוֹנְקֵי הַדְּבַשׁ הֵן הַיָּפוֹת בַּצִּפּ ִ ֳרים לְטַעֲמִי, ְאַך מִי ֶ שׁ ַנּוֹח לוֹ יֵל ְֵך אֶל הַזַּרְזִ יר. עִם זֹאת אֲנִי חוֹזֶרֶת וּמְסַפֶּרֶת לְעַצְמִי, זַרְזִ יר מָתְנַיִם, אַיִל מְשֻׁלָּשׁ,

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ַ תּ ַפּוּח שׁ ֵ ֶאינֶנּוּ מַא ִ ְדּים, זֶה לֹא אֲנִי. שכרה לוּ הָיְתָה יָדִי מַשֶּׂגֶת אֶת הַשִּׂמְלָה הָאֲדֻמָּה שֶׁמּ ִ ְחירָהּ יָקָר ְ מאֹד, וְלוּ הָיָה לִי עֹפֶר מְדַלֵּג ַעל הָרָמָה מְקַפֵּץ עַל ה ָ ַגְּבעוֹת- הָיִינוּ נִת ִ ְלים בְּגַגּוֹת הַבּ ִ ָתּים וְהָיִינוּ קוֹשׁ ִ ְרים אֶת כַּנְפֵי ָ הרוּחוֹת עַד שׁ ָ ֶהיוּ מִסְתּ ְ ַבּכוֹת וּמִסְתּ ְ ַבּכוֹת- ְ כּמוֹ פְּקַעַת שֶׁל ִ חוּטים. וְהֵן מִתְנ ְ ַשּׁמוֹת עַל ִ פּיהֶן ְ וּבוֹרחוֹת- עַד שֶׁיּ ֵֵצא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ בִּגְבוּרָה מ ְ ִתנוֹדֵד ְ בּרֹב כֹּחוֹ. וְיַשׁ ִ ְל ְיך לִי מֵעַל שֻׁל ָ ְחנוֹ פּ ִ ֵרוּרים שׁ ְ ֶיִהיוּ בּוֹע ִ ֲרים עַל הַשִּׂמְלָה הָאֲדֻמָּה, וְיָשׁוּב ְ יִסתּוֹלֵל בִּי ְ בּקוֹל נְהָמָה וִינַגּ ֵַח בְּקַרְנָיו כְּצֶמֶד שְׁו ִ ָרים. וַעֲלֵי ה ִ ַשּׂ ִ יחים ְיִהיוּ ִ הוֹמים וּמְצַלְצ ִ ְלים כִּמְטַר מַט ְ ְבּעוֹת זָהָב וְי ִ ַבּיט וְיִרְאֶה וְי ִ ַבּיט בִּי ְ מאֹהָב דְּמֵה ל ְָך דוֹדִי לִצְבִי אוֹ ְ לעֹפֶר אַי ִ ָלים. שני איים לניו-זילנד ְ לאַפ ִ ְריקָה לֹא כּ ַ ְדאי עַכְשָׁו ל ִַנְסֹע מַגֵּפוֹת, רָעָב, ַ הגּוּף הָאֱנוֹשִׁי ֵ אינוֹ עוֹמֵד בָּזֶה. אַכְז ִ ָריּוּת. בַּאֲנ ִ ָשׁים הֵם מַצ ִ ְל ִ יפים בְּפ ְ ַר ִ גּוֹלים. ְ בּאַסְיָה דְב ִ ָרים מְסַמְּרֵי שֵׂעָר, ְ ל ִ כוּדים בּ ִ ַבּצּוֹת, ְ ל ִ כוּדים בֶּה ִ ָרים. ַ הגּוּף ה ֲ ָאנוֹשִׁי ֵ אינוֹ עוֹמֵד בָּזֶה ֵ אין לוֹ כֹּחוֹת ִ חיּוּת מַס ִ ְפּ ִ יקים. וַאֲנִי עַל נְאוֹת דֶּשֶׁא יַר ִ ְבּיצֵנִי בִּנְיוּ זִ ילַנְד.

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שָׁם כְּב ִ ָשׂים עִם צֶמֶר ר ְַך ר ְַך מִכָּל צֶמֶר רוֹעוֹת בַּדָּשֶׁא. אֲנ ִ ָשׁים יִשְׁרֵי לֵב נוֹהֲגִים שָׁם אֶת ַ הצֹּאן, ְ בּיוֹם ִ ראשׁוֹן הֵם מְבַקּ ִ ְרים בַּכְּנֵסִיָּה ְ ל ִ בוּשׁים בְּטַעַם שָׁקֵט. כְּבָר ֵ אין עוֹד ַטעַם לְהַס ִ ְתּיר אֲנ ְ ַחנוּ ָ נִסּיוֹן ֶ שׁלֹּא עָלָה יָפֶה תָּכְנִית שֶׁנִּשְׁתַּבְּשָׁה, ְ כּרוּכָה בְּרַצ ָ ְחנוּת רַבָּה מִדַּי, מַה לִּי מֵאֵלֶּה וּמַה לִּי מֵאֵלֶּה צוֹר ִ ְחים עַד לְגָרוֹן נִחָר וּמְפַצּ ִ ְלים חֻדָּהּ שֶׁל שַׂעֲרָה. מִכָּל ָ מקוֹם רַצ ָ ְחנוּת ַרבָּה מִדַּי. ְ לאַפ ִ ְריקָה לֹא אֶסַּע וְלֹא ְ לאַסְיָה וְלֹא אֶסַּע בִּכְלָל. בִּנְיוּ זִ ילַנְד עַל נְאוֹת דֶּשֶׁא וָמַיִם אֲנ ִ ָשׁים טוֹבֵי לֵב יִפ ְ ְרסוּ לִי מִלַּחְמָם. תפילת אשכבה לאחר שבע-עשרה שנה הַחַזָּן הָיָה קוֹרֵא פִּרְקֵי תְה ִ ִלּים. הָע ִ ֵצים לָחֲשׁוּ כַּעֲדַת כֹּהֲנִים ְ שׁ ִ חוֹרים. לֹא הָיִינוּ גְ ִ בוֹהים הַרְבֵּה מֵעַל פְּנֵי הַמּ ֵ ַצּבוֹת וְיָד ְ ַענוּ ֶ שׁלֹּא תִהְיֶה בְּי ֵ ָמינּו תְחִיַּת הַמּ ִ ֵתים. מִשָּׁם וָה ְ ָלאָה הָיָה נִצָּב הַסֻּלָּם לְמַעֲלוֹת ְ ק ִ דוֹשׁים ְ וּט ִ הוֹרים, שׁ ִ ֶטּיבָם כְּעֶצֶם הַסּ ִַפּיר (רֻבָּם ָ היוּ נ ִ ָחים לְמַר ֵ ְגְּלוֹתינוּ), וְחַיֵּינוּ ָ היוּ כְּח ִ ָסיל בִּגְ בוּל הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ וְהַצֵּל. ְאַך כְּשֶׁעָבְרָה הַנַּעֲרָה ה ְ ַטּבוּעָה אֶת כָּל חַדְרֵי הַיָּם, יָד ְ ַענוּ שֶׁהַיָּם הוּא ַ ה ִ מּוֹליד אֶת הַנְּח ִ ָלים.

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תרי"ג מצוות ואחת תרי"ג מצוות נצטוו ישראל ושבע הן לבני נח אף המתים חייבים באחת. וְה ִ ָאישׁ הַמֵּת שָׁב ל ֵ ְביתוֹ לְסַפֵּר לְבָנָיו עַל מוֹתוֹ ְ לבל יֶח ְ ֶרדוּ בָּנָיו לְמִשְׁמַע הַדָּבָר ַ הנּוֹרָא הַזֶּה. וְלֹא הָיָה עוֹד ֵ בּין הַמּ ִ ֵתים מִי שֶׁעָשָׂה ָ כּזֹאת. ְ צאוּ ְ וּראוּ בְּק ְ ִברוֹת ַהמּ ִ ֵתים אִם יֵשׁ מִי שֶׁעָשָׂה ָ כּזֹאת. וְהוּא יָשַׁב ע ָ ִמּנוּ וְלֹא מָשׁ כָּל שִׁבְעַת יְמֵי א ֵ ֲבלוּת. כִּי ֵ א ְיך יִבָּדֵל מֵא ָ ִתּנוּ ל ְ ִמנוּחָה וַאֲנ ְ ַחנוּ לְבַד בַּצַּעַר? וְהוּא סִפֵּר אֶת דְּבַר מוֹתוֹ בַּאֵר דָּבָר עַל בּ ְ ֻריוֹ. כִּי זֹאת עָלְתָה ְבּמַחְשׁ ְ ַבתּוֹ שֶׁמָּא ָ בּזֹאת נְנֻחָם. וְאַף אִם לוֹ יָאֲתָה ה ְ ַמּנוּחָה הוּא יָשׁוּב אִם נַפְגִּ ַיע בּוֹ וְעַל פָּנֵינוּ לֹא יַעֲבֹר וְעַל מַדְוֵינוּ לֹא יִתְעַלַּם חֵלֶק כְּחֵלֶק יִשָּׂא ע ָ ִמּנוּ בַּדָּבָר ַ הנּוֹרָא הַזֶּה. שִׁבְעָה י ִ ָמים וְשָׁנִים ֵ אין - מִסְפָּר בְּכָל עֵת שֶׁיָּבוֹא ָ רצוֹן מִלְּפָנֵינוּ כָּל ֵ אימַת שֶׁהַצַּעַר יִגְבַּר עָלֵינוּ עָזֹב יַעֲזֹב ע ָ ִמּנוּ.

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Appendix D Full Hebrew Poems by Amichai, Bialik and Cohen Corresponding to Excerpts Quoted in Hebrew: alphabetically by poets’ last names in Hebrew חיים נחמן ביאליק עַל הַשּׁ ִ ְחיטָה שָׁמַיִם, בּ ְ ַקּשׁוּ רַח ִ ֲמים עָלָי! אִם-יֵשׁ בָּכֶם אֵל וְלָאֵל בָּכֶם נ ִ ָתיב- וַאֲנִי לֹא מ ָ ְצ ִ אתיו- הִתְפּ ְ ַלּלוּ אַתֶּם עָלָי! אֲנִי- לִבִּי מֵת ֵ וְאין עוֹד תְּפִלָּה בִּשְׂפָתָי, וּכְבָר אָזְלַת יָד אַף- ֵ אין תִּקְוָה עוֹד- עַד - מָתַי, עַד-אָנָה, עַד-מָתָי? הַתַּלְיָן! הֵא צַוָּאר - קוּם שְׁחָט! עָרְפֵנִי כַּכֶּלֶב, ל ְָך זְ ַרֹע עִם - ק ְ ַרדֹּם וְכָל- ָ האָרֶץ לִי ג ְ ַרדֹּם- וַאֲנ ְ ַחנוּ- אֲנ ְ ַחנוּ הַמְעָט! דָּמִי מֻתָּר- ה ְַך ק ְ ָדקֹד, וִיזַנֵּק דַּם רֶצַח, דַּם יוֹנֵק וָשָׂב עַל-כֻּתָּנְתּ ְָך- וְלֹא יִמַּח לָנֶתַח, לָנֶצַח. וְאִם יֵשׁ - צֶדֶק- יוֹפַע מִיָּד! ְאַך אִם-אַחֲרֵי הִשָּׁמְדִי מִתַּחַת ר ִ ָק ַיע הַצֶּדֶק ִ יוֹפ ַיע- יְמֻגַּר-נָא כ ְ ִסאוֹ לָעַד! וּבְרֶשַׁע עוֹל ִ ָמים שָׁמַיִם ָ יִמּקּוּ; אַף - אַתֶּם ְ לכוּ, ז ִ ֵדים, בַּחֲמַסְכֶם זֶה וּבְדִמְכֶם חֲיוּ וְהִנָּקוּ. וְאָרוּר ָ האוֹמֵר: נְקֹם! נְקָמָה ָ כזֹאת, נִקְמַת דַּם יֶלֶד קָטָן עוֹד לֹא - בָרָא הַשָּׂטָן- וְיִקֹּב הַדָּם אֶת - ה ְ ַתּהוֹם! יִקֹּב הַדָּם עַד ְ תּהֹמוֹת מַחֲשׁ ִ ַכּים, וְאָכַל ַ בּחֹש ְֶך וְחָתַר שָׁם כָּל - ְ מוֹסדוֹת ָ האָרֶץ הַנְּמ ִ ַקּים.

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אליעז כהן שמע אד-ני שְׁמַע אֲדֹ-נָי, יִשְׂרָאֵל עַמּ ֶָך יִשׂרָאֵל אֶחָד וְאָהַב ְָתּ אֶת יִשְׁרָאֵל עַמּ ֶָך בְּכָל לְבָב ְָך וּבְכָל נַפְשׁ ְָך וּבְכָל ְ מאֹד ֶָך ָ וְהיוּ הַבָּנִים הָאֵלֶּה אֲשֶׁר נֶהֱרָגִים עָל ֶָיך כָּל ַ היּוֹם עַל ל ְָבב ְָך וְשִׁנַּנְתָּם בִּר ִ ְקיע ֶָיך וְדִבַּר ְָתּ בָּם: בְּשִׁבְתּ ְָך בּ ֵ ְבית ֶָך וּבְלֶכְתּ ְָך בַּדֶּר ְֶך וּבְשָׁכְבּ ְָך ְ וּבקוּמ ֶָך וּקְשַרְתָּם ְ לאוֹת עַל יָד ֶָך (סְפָרוֹת כְּחֻלּוֹת זַרְחָנִיּוֹת) ָ וְהיוּ ְ ל ָ טֹטפוֹת ֵ בּין עֵינ ֶָיך ( ְ כּמוֹ פְּגִ יעַת הַצַָּלּ ִ פים) וּכְתַבְתָּם (בְּדָם) עַל - מְזֻזוֹת ֵ בּית ֶָך וּבִשְׁע ֶ ָר ָיך יהודה עמיחי רועה ערבי מחפש בהר ציון רוֹעֶה עֲרָבִי מְחַפֵּשׂ גְּדִי בְּהַר ִ ציּוֹן, וּבָהָר ִ ממּוּל אֲנִי מְחַפֵּשׂ אֶת בְּנִי הַקָּטָן. רוֹעֶה עֲרָבִי וְאָב יְהוּדִי בְּכ ְ ִשׁלוֹנָם ה ַַזְּמנִּי. קוֹלוֹת שְׁנֵינוּ נִפְגּ ִ ָשׁים מֵעַל לִבְרֵכַת הַשֻּׂלְטָן בָּעֵמֶק בָּאֶמְצַע. שְׁנֵינוּ ִ רוֹצים ֶ שׁלֹּא יִכָּנְסוּ הַבֵּן וְהַגְּדִי ְ ל ְתוֹך תַּה ִ ֲל ְיך ה ְ ַמּכוֹנָה ַ ה ָ נּוֹראָה שֶׁל חַד גּדְיָא. אַחַר - כּ ְָך מ ָ ָצאנוּ אוֹתָם ֵ בּין ה ִ ַשּׂ ִ יחים, וְקוֹלוֹ ֵ תינוּ חָזְ רוּ אֵלֵינוּ ָ וּבכוּ וְצָחֲקוּ בִּפְנִים. ה ִ ַח ִ פּוּשׂים אַחַר גְּדִי אוֹ אַחַר בֵּן ָ היוּ תּ ִ ָמיד הַתְחָלַת דָּת חֲדָשָׁה בֶּה ִ ָרים הָאֵלֶּה.