The Very Edge of Him: Translations of Avraham Chalfi
By Atar J Hadari
Translator’s Note
Avraham Chalfi was a character actor, a clown, a dandy, and a man about town in Tel Aviv. A character. He also wrote nine books of poems entirely out of step with the Israeli poetic culture of his time—too low-key, too mystical, too a-political, too much concerned with this woman or that drunk, or that dog. One thing he had going for him was a 'nephew' or family friend called Arik Einstein who was Israel's national singer and decided to record a complete album of Chalfi lyrics in his own musical setting. Chalfi entered the language and became one of the most recorded lyricists of Israeli history at a fell swoop because one song in particular got covered by all and sundry. I have tried to retain the intimacy of his voice in Hebrew, as well as the abstracted and religious qualities that ripple through it.
Dawn Yellowish-Green
Dawn yellowish-green
But something in it of lilac,
Above it the Mediterranean.
A very early hour of morning
Or very late one
Of night-time.
The wine hurts
Something about it green or yellowish or
Lilac.
A drunken dawn. But as if our hands knew
The very edge of Him.
Avraham Chalfi, "Dawn Yellowish-Green," in Poems, Hakibbutz Hameuchad Publishing House, 1988, Volume 2, p. 138.
The Waitress
Her eyes dim from the glow of light bulbs,
Noise of punters – scours the ears.
If these do not let go, maybe the heart will fail –
In a café they choke the sky.
But in her place there is no home or anything
And past midnight, night there is sad,
And just one companion – cigarette smoke –
Awaits her at all times.
Blessed are you, smoke!
In his arms with night’s secret she’ll slumber.
Her days a grey song sunk in ash
And she’s almost old: a mother whose sons are not delivered.
In a coffee house I saw her eyes glimmer.
Avraham Chalfi, "The Waitress," in Poems, Hakibbutz Hameuchad Publishing House, 1986, Volume 1, p. 196.
Every Morning
Every morning He comes down from heaven
And sits on a stone at my window.
Let Him have a crust of bread, a sip of rain.
And let Him be: it’s a poor Deity.
Wind, should it happen by, brushes His lips
And whispers to Him: you’re almost human.
It knows, above us all
Apart from Him there’s no God going.
Avraham Chalfi, "Every Morning," in Poems, Hakibbutz Hameuchad Publishing House, 1986, Volume 1, p. 71.
The One Who Wandered With You
The one who wandered with you to the marketplace. I’m him.
Women who saw me said: ‘That’s him.’
Women who saw me pointed out:
He’s the one in love with the wife of his friend.
I bore your basket full of fruit and veg,
Ready to bear it so to the week’s end.
All who encountered me, I thought, said:
She’s beautiful, that’s why she is beloved.
An hour like that is not forgotten.
When its joy goes it stays right there.
Me and my body, clung together, all at once
Escorted you – because it was a pleasure.
The one who bore your basket – I am him.
Women who met me said: ‘That’s him.’
I saw him yesterday. Today I saw him.
He’s still in love with the wife of his friend.
Avraham Chalfi, "The One Who Wandered with You," in Poems, Hakibbutz Hameuchad Publishing House, 1986, Volume 1, p. 291.
Atar Hadari’s Songs from Bialik: Selected Poems of H. N. Bialik was a finalist for the American Literary Translators’ Association Award. His Pen Translates award winning Lives of the Dead: Collected Poems of Hanoch Levin appeared from Arc Publications. He also translates novels, most recently Liad Shoham’s legal thriller Key Witness.
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