NOT BECOMING EXCITED
And we shall not become excited,
we’re told by Amichai.
I feel I almost die
each time no one becomes delighted
by what I tell them, deaf, benighted,
to taste my mind exempted.
By nobody are they indicted,
their silence bullets. I must bite it.
No mediator knows,
verse averse––and prose!––
or is prepared to proselyte it.
Inspired by Yehuda Amichai’s poem “And We Shall Not Get Excited”:
And we shall not get excited. Because a translator
May not get excited. Calmly, we shall pass on
Words from man to son, from one tongue
To others' lips, un-
Knowingly, like a father who passes on
The features of his dead father's face
To his son, and he himself is like neither of them. Merely a mediator.
We shall remember the things we held in our hands
That slipped out.
What I have in my possession and what I do not have in my possession.
We must not get excited.
Calls and their callers drowned. Or, my beloved
Gave me a few words before she left,
To bring up for her.
And no more shall we tell what we were told
To other tellers. Silence as admission. We must not