Issue 7

June 2001

Jeffrey Green

I am a Jerusalem based writer, translator, and poet. To my credit as a writer are: hundreds of book reviews, including six years of a weekly column on Hebrew books in the Jerusalem Post; "Thinking Through Translation," to be published in May by the University of Georgia Press; "A Daughter's Gift of Love," a Holocaust memoir ghostwritten for Trudi Birger and published in about ten countries; several short stories; two books in Hebrew.

In my capacity as a translator I have translated fiction by major Hebrew writers, including Mendele (see the Oxford Book of Hebrew Fiction), Hazaz, Agnon, Appelfeld (8 books), and others. I have also translated books for major university presses such as Columbia University Press, SUNY Press, the University of California Press, and the Littman Library of Jewish Civilization.

I have only begun writing and publishing poetry in the past six or seven years, and have had success in placing poems on websites such as The Drunken Boat, The Mystic Review, and NYCPoets as well as some print acceptances.

The following poems are taken from an unpublished series entitled "The Iambic Pentameter Project."

 

All work © Jeffrey Green

1. Formality

The discipline of meter leads the mind
To great surprises when you let it go.
The mind's a vacuum cleaner bag, you have
To shake it empty to discover what
It's gathered. If you follow rhythm's pulse
Like children picking berries in the woods,
You'll lose your way, but witches won't entice
You, for your loss is gain. The thread of stress
And unstress drew you far afield, but home.

2. Pride

The egotist begins to look grotesque,
He feeds upon the pronoun, "I," until
His face distorts like comic mask. The world,
No doubt, revolves around his likes and whims.
The wonder is that egotists persuade
The rest of us to heed their becks and calls,
Infected by their high opinions of
Themselves. We need our emperors, our kings
And warlords, champions of self-import,
Those monstrous delegates we send to do
Our dirty work, like priests to leap in faith.
They enlarge us, and they pay the price.
If they stumble, we're the first to say
We knew they weren't all that great, that pride
Would be their downfall. We, the chorus in
Their farces, ridicule their bloated selves.

A world of egotists alone would be
A mess, and ours has more than it can use.
But pride and grovelling are not the sole
Alternatives. Beyond the two is art.
The greatest artists move beyond the I,
An inspiration for the rest of us,
Who aren't great, perhaps, but we can try
To step aside and let big egos clash
Like cymbals, noisy and cacophonous,
While we get on with what we have to do.

3. Exchange

A dialogue is very hard to write,
Because you have to keep two thoughts in mind,
Assume two characters, agree with both
And see the flaws in what they say, to let
Them speak with freedom while you guide
Their arguments. One thinks of Plato. He's
A stiff competitor. But why compete?
For dialogue is also hard to speak
When you are two, for each must hear each voice
From deep within, as if that voice were hers.
The things you hear may change you. That's the risk
Of listening with ears that aren't yours.

4. Have It Your Way

At my age you're allowed to be a fool.
Not me, I have to be a sage or die of shame.
Outgrow that pride. I can't. There are two ways
To age. You've taken one. It's not for me.
Your rigid posture means you'll reach the grave
Too stiff to rot. So be it. Stop and think:
You'll let your soul return to where it must,
But not allow your flesh to join the earth
Again? My soul? I'll not let that escape.
I'll keep it in this body till the earth
Dissolves in rising oceans or the sun
Expands and roasts it all. And you're a sage?
I've never heard such nonsense. Cowards think
Because the fight is lost they must give up.
Your boat has drifted toward a waterfall.
The current soon will dash it on the rocks
Below. So will you drop the oars and merge
With falling streams, or will you strive until
Your strength is gone to reach the bank before
The boat tips over? That is not the choice
Most people face, and even on the shore
You're only safe for moments. You must launch
Your boat again in time and face the falls.
So what's the use of dignity? You've got
The right to be a fool at any age.

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