ימים לבנים מאת לאה גולדברג
White, Long Days by Leah Goldberg
Leah Goldberg wrote this poem at 21 while being a student in Bonn University in 1932.
נמצא כתב היד המקורי של ימים לבנים
It is hard to imagine what genius goes into processing something like this for a Russian girl!?
יָמִים לְבָנִים, אֲרֻכִּים כְּמוֹ בַּקַּיִץ קַרְנֵי-הַחַמָּה שַׁלְוַת-בְּדִידוּת גְּדוֹלָה עַל מֶרְחַב הַנָּהָר חַלּוֹנוֹת פְּתוּחִים לִרְוָחָה אֶל תְּכֵלֶת-דְּמָמָה גְּשָׁרִים יְשָׁרִים וּגְבֹהִים בֵּין אֶתְמוֹל וּמָחָר לְבָבִי הִתְרַגֵּל אֶל עַצְמוֹ וּמוֹנֶה בִּמְתִינוּת דְּפִיקוֹתָיו וּלְמֶתֶק הַקֶּצֶב הָרַךְ נִרְגַּע, מִתְפַּיֵּס, מְוַתֵּר , כְּתִינוֹק מְזַמֵּר שִׁיר-עַרְשׂוֹ טֶרֶם סְגוֹר אֶת עֵינָיו, עֵת הָאֵם הַלֵּאָה נִרְדְּמָה וּפָסְקָה מִזַּמֵּר. כָּל-כָּךְ קַל לָשֵׂאת שְׁתִיקַתְכֶם, יָמִים לְבָנִים וְרֵיקִים הֵן עֵינַי לָמְדוּ לְחַיֵּךְ וְחָדְלוּ מִשֶּׁכְּבָר לְזָרֵז עַל לוּחַ-שָׁעוֹן אֶת מֵרוֹץ הַדַּקִּים . יְשָׁרִים וּגְבוֹהִים הַגְּשָׁרִים בֵּין אֶתְמוֹל וּמָחָר
White, long days, like sun's Summer rays. Great peace and solitude on the expanse of the river. Windows wide open to the blue silence. Bridges that are straight and high between yesterday and tomorrow. My heart got used to itself and calmly counted its beats. And the bad beat, sweetened and relaxed, Like a baby singing a lullaby before closing its eyes, When the exhausted mother stopped singing and fell asleep. It is so easy to bear your silence, white and empty days My eyes learned to smile and already stopped speeding the race of the minutes on the clock's face. Straight and high bridges between yesterday and tomorrow.
Post Scriptum
All important events are tragic, and all tragic events are indescribable. Languages simply had not developed words or concepts for these occurrences. When people say “no words”, this is more accurate than they even think. Poetry fakes it.
Most people who go through life events that are inevitably tragic, they survive in a state of constant numbness. Rituals attempt to tackle tragedies, but they miss the mark because rituals are tribal, collective while tragedies are very, very personal.
A soldier in a protracted war faces these challenges even if he seeks words for it. Like all significant experiences, it cannot be explained to someone who has not been there. Even if you try to explain it, people can’t bear to talk about it because it makes them feel like they are living it again. So, they retreat into the personal purgatory, the feeling that everything they ever heard from others is a lie or a caricature of the indescribable tragic reality.
