The original song also approximately rhymes the 2nd and 4th line of each of its three stanzas, which none of those translations do. So here is my go at a singable translation of Erev Shel Shoshanim:

Having never tried to translate poetry before, it was an exciting challenge. Some poems require a literal translation; others need to have the right sense but also the rhythm and rhyme. In this case, I chose the latter.

With the help of others, especially Simon Holloway, this is what we came up with:

Chishki Chizki (חשקי חזקי) by Isaac Aboab da Fonseca (1605-1693)

This used to be a city with gutters
But the scattererd spatterings of silty white
Amass to envelop and elide
The distinction between road and path
So that cars slow to a stroll so unlike autumn’s rush
It silences the sounds, the steps,
Each stride only deepens and imprints the soft
Snowy coat upon the pavement, upon the streets
And it keeps piling, turning the once-green once-red brown hills white.

Where are the smiles gone from the streets?
Forced away by empathy and common sorrow?
Or maybe it’s just the weather.

Nearby there are sirens in the streets,
Sadistic onlookers whirring in the air.
But down here is the solemnity only in my head?

There is blood in the streets.
The TVs are all turned on.
More sirens. I’m in Israel again.

one, two, three, four
small heads on
small boys
look out as
i pass by, on a
wooden seat, on a
concrete platform
fastened
while to them,
faces-pressed-to-panes
i move, with the
tracks, with the
sky

with the tan man
with foreheaded sunglasses
that checks his wrist-watch

with the pale bearded man
devoutly whispering each word
from a hand-held dog-eared book

with the young woman
standing, conversing

with the older woman
frowning, leaning
head-on-fist
elbow-on-wood
wood riveted to wall
wall above tracks
where carriages pass

one, two, three, four
mothers
keep their arms and eyes inside
the vehicle at all times,
avoid others
dose out a
small slap on a
small wrist of a
small boy
if ever he makes
(back-turned) a
small movement, a
small sound
disturbing a gentle equillibrium
of mixed-flavoured men waiting for
the city street
to open up before them

Vegas brings day to night
All night
Vegas brings night to day
Every day

The trip to the bus station in LA was a little frantic (Ilana had never been there), and the trip was long, but was made pleasant enough by the girl sitting next to me from Toronto, leaving us in conversation about Canada and the US and Australia and Jews and Judaism.

Once arriving in Vegas, I was taken to the home of a friend of my aunt’s (in a suburb just out of town), where I would be staying. I think I would’ve enjoyed staying in a hotel on the strip, but this option has plenty of comforts, including a few I’m not so likely to use, like the home theatre (with a few hundred titles available to watch from big comfy cinema chairs) or sports-watching room (with up to four simultaneous broadcasts showing). My contacts here have been very generous to me, arranging me to go out to someone’s house with kosher food last night (Sunday) for dinner before his daughter Danielle took me to show me the strip. Danielle’s not yet 21 (and has lost her fake-id) so we didn’t get to any clubs, but wandered through the strips and saw some of its more exciting free sites, through Caesar’s Palace, the Bellagio, Aladdin and New York, New York. The free water shows outside the Bellagio (as featured in Ocean’s Eleven) are really quite something to see, too. Because of the high security where I’m staying, I had a curfew of around midnight, but I’ll see if I can waive it for my last night in town tomorrow night (if I have the energy).

Today I spent much of the day trying (and for the most part failing) to sort a few things out for myself, just staying at home. At the same time, another of my aunt’s friends here was organising me a ticket to a show tonight. Although not very three weeksy, I went to see a show from Cirque du Soleil at the Mirage, featuring a collage of music by the Beatles. The show creatively portrayed the themes and moods and characters of the songs, and drew them together into a wonderful kaleidescope of dancers and acrobats. The audience covered a full circle around the stage, and each member had surround stereo with a speaker in front and one on each side of the headrest- quite a setup. Oh, and the usher (a girl by the name of Stephanie) pointed out that she has the same “yarmulkeh” as me before showing me to my seat. But sorry, no photos. =(

After watching a bit of gambling (I’ve still not been game enough to throw some money in myself—I’ve considered it at the pokies but it just seems like an outright waste, that I should instead try out on one of the table games like roulette, but they have entry of $10), I left the Mirage to await its outdoor entertainment, a fiery volcanic eruption. I was among others in thinking it was not that impressive. But I’m sure it’s expensive—probably moreso than the Bellagio fountains. And I was also too busy watching a wonder of nature amid this manmade dream and nightmare: a surprise storm overhead with some of the most beautiful lightning I had seen; a blue flash and white streak over the desert that seemed to declare divine warning against Sin City. But most people just saw it as a sign to seek shelter, or ignored it until the rain made that idea more persuasive.

I spent much of the rest of the night in a poetic mood (see above and below), wandering through some of the areas of the Strip I hadn’t seen last night. When I needed a pen to write some of my thoughts down on a paper, I ended up talking to some guys behind a promotional desk: about being Australian, our strange and deadly animals and all that, and walked away with a couple of nightclub free-entry passes (Tangerine and Coyote Ugly), which I won’t complain about and might even try to use tomorrow. In the meantime, a fella came up and asked where is a good spot for his friend to propose to his girlfriend, seeing as all the Venetian’s gondolas were booked out—any suggestions?

And I also spent some time trying to photograph lightning, which I only succeeded in near the beginning of that quest. It is very hit and miss, and I figure it has chances like winning the jackpot, only it is somewhat cheaper. God’s roulette.

Tomorrow afternoon I head over to the Grand Canyon and Hoover Dam on a helicopter (also a gift from one of my hosts here, while I’d been looking at a cheap but neat plane flight) and I’m quite excited.

Green and Gold

The grass of the field and the sun beating upon it;
The felt of a table and the coins thrown down on it.
The green-back; the gold bullion:
The team we cheer.