Two new Rachel poems (transl.)

I have just finished translating another Rachel poem. Since there was one in waiting already, I now publish both here, starting from the one I finished most recently. without further ado:

Narrow my world (רק על עצמי)

One is the story of which I could tell
Narrow my world is, as that of an ant.
Heavy a burden I carried as well,
More than my shoulder could carry a weight.

Both of our ways, that so wind to the summit
Ways that are paved with such labour and pain,
Giants' indifferent, malicios hands
Turned all their miles to nought and to vain.

All of my paths were voided and teared,
Fear of unknowns has bouldered my course.
Why have you deigned to deceive, distant lights?
Why did you lie, foreign shores?

Spring (אביב)

Have I not truly bolted my shutter?
At my door-lock have I been amiss?
He sprung up in his designate hour,
and awoke all those feelings of bliss.

Redhead and scented and eager,
I have with you to do – none at all.
Will I know from your visage to shelter
All those feelings I stored in the fall?

Shall I rage, shall I angrily scald you?
Shall I drive you away from my gate?
Or perhaps, just this once, just this one time,
bring myself, just for now, to relent?

מודעות פרסומת

A Girl From Gadot (translation)

To Israeli readers the origin of the song needs no introduction. For Hebrew learners, this is the source.

One last cannon shell exploded away
Silence has shrouded the valley.
A girl from Gadot peeked from the shelter –
The village is ruined entirely.

Mother, we had us a green little house,
puppet and dad and trees growing.
The house is destroyed, and daddy’s away,
mom – are you laughing or crying?

Look up, my sweet girl, to the mountain of dread,
the mountain we thought was so monstrous.
The guns are still there, but from now, my sweet girl –
they’re all pointing toward Damascus.

Look up to the heights of Golan, my sweet girl,
there’s still soldiers there but they’re flying
from now on the colors of of blue and of white,
and daddy’s there, laughing and crying.

We’ll have us again a green little house,
and puppet and dad and trees growing –
and none of the terror, my sweet little girl.
My girl, are you laughing or crying?

Sunsets in red and sunrises in gold
encounter the green and the water.
With no hostile guns on the mountain, the vale
will flower more than it did ever.

The Jordan will flow, in the path of a drunk,
its twist will kiss banks in their flowering.
Its waters will not be diverted away,
My girl, are you laughing or crying?

The Jordan will flow between banks as before,
its twist will kiss banks in their flowering.
Its waters will not be diverted away,
My girl, are you laughing or crying?

My girl, are you laughing or crying?