Somewhere, thus an old song ran:
Said a warrior to a smith,"Hammer me a sword forthwith.
Make the blade
Light as wind on water laid;
Make it long
As wheat at harvest song,
Supple, swift
As a snake, without rift,
Full of lightnings, thousand-eyed!
Smooth as silken cloth & thin
As the web that spiders spin,
And merciless as pain & cold."
"On the hilt what shall be told?"
"On the sword's hilt, my good man,"
Said the warrior of Japan,
"Trace for me
A running lake, a flock of sheep,
And one who sings her child to sleep."
Yehoash (Solomon Bloomgarden)
2 comments:
Great poetry!!! With those last five lines, you cannot call it a war poem.
My first thought was that this hardly seems to come from the pen of a Yiddish poet and bible translator. But reading it again it does kind of have a ring of the old testament about it.
I've always loved this little poem. It's the only thing I know by this author, who I have heard described as "the greatest Yiddish poet", which seems like a very exclusive group.
But a very evocative piece, whatever the source...
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