Ode To the Dove Pt. VI
by Avrom Sutzkever
Translated by Zackary Sholem Berger
Yes, I am guilty, I’m guilty. A sin was desirable then.
Bring the dancer back to the stalks. Do it for me… A flame
Abyssal devoured her young blueness, such blue that comes but once.
My temples are boiling with pearl and ash, with her grayness.
No, you’re not guilty, not guilty. The dancer – she dances the same
Warm steps of youth in the vaults that are smiling in blue,
Wanders from one land to another, unplugs Earth from the navel.
From that dance above you’ll go and scoop up the whole world.
The dance overhead is a dream though. Dovelet, where should I wander?
The eyes of the dead pox my body, nail my soul fast
to nothingness. My bread and my salt are a hovel.
Now I am treading my homeland, land whose mold is its grass.
“I will clothe you with wings, and a white idea
will be puffed out with freedom like a sail.
You’re not in hock to death. The days will circle and circle.
Only the legend’s eternal. And she will manage a smile.