Solomon Ibn Gabirol

I LOOK FOR YOU

I look for you early,
my rock and my refuge,
    offering you worship
  morning and night;
before your vastness
I come confused
    and afraid for you see
  the thoughts of my heart.

What could the heart
and tongue compose,
     or spirit\’s strength
  within me to suit you?
But song soothes you
and so I\’ll give praise
    to your being as long
  as your breath-in-me moves.

Solomon Ibn Gabirol

Translation: 2001, Peter Cole

MY WORDS ARE DRIVEN
My words are driven by worry,
my joy in sighing’s put out –
when I see others laughing my heart splits
for my life as it slips away from me.

“Should a boy of sixteen be sighing, my friend,
and mourning the day of his death,
when he could be strong in his youth,
with his cheek like a rose in the sun?”

From boyhood my heart has judged me
and so my soul has been bowed,
and it placed understanding and learning across it
and cut my soul along wrath.

“What good does anxiousness do you?
Be patient, your wound will heal.
You moan inside your trouble in vain:
What help could you bring with your tears?”

But why should I wait, and how long can I hope
when the day is full, and the end is far,
and no one in Gilead knows of balm
for the pain of a plague-stricken man.

Solomon Ibn Gabirol

Translation: 2001, Peter Cole

WHY ARE YOU FRIGHTENED
Why are you troubled and frightened, my soul?
Be still and dwell where you are.
Since the world to you is small as a hand,
you won’t, my storm, get far.

Better than pitching from court to court
is sitting before the throne of your Lord;
if you distance yourself from others you’ll flourish
and surely see your reward.

If your desire is like a fortified city,
a siege will bring it down in time:
You have no portion here in this world –
so wake for the world to come.

Solomon Ibn Gabirol

Translation: 2001, Peter Cole

The Field

The storm-clouds lowed above us like bulls.
Autumn was angry, and its face darkened
and put them to chase like wisps of wool,
like a ship\’s captain blasting its horn.

The heavens went black in a thickening mist,
as the morning stars and their light were absorbed,
then the sun with its wing whisked them across
the earth until they split and it burst.

The wind beat at the sheets of rain,
and the clouds were cut into threads reaching down
into the world below – drenching
ridges, preparing the furrows for sowing.

On the hills, hidden grasses emerged
like secrets a man had long withheld:
all winter the clouds wept until suddenly
life again swept through the trees of the field.

Solomon Ibn Gabirol

Translation: 2001, Peter Cole

I\’M PRINCE TO THE POEM

I’m prince to the poem my slave,
I’m harp to the court musicians,
my song is a turban for viziers’ heads,
a crown for kings in their kingdoms:

and here I’ve lived just sixteen years,
and my heart is like eighty within them.

Solomon Ibn Gabirol

Translation: 2001, Peter Cole

Royal Crown

My God, I know that those who plead
To you for grace and mercy need
All their good works should go before,
And wait for them at heaven’s high door.
But I have no good deeds to bring,
No righteousness for offering,
No service for my Lord and King.

Yet do not hide your face from me,
Nor cast me out far from you;
But when you command my life to cease,
O, may you lead me forth in peace
To the world to come, to dwell
Among your pious ones, who tell
Your inexhaustible glories.

There let my portion be with those
Who arose in eternal life;
There to purify my heart right,
In your light to see the light.
Raise me from the deepest depths to share
Heaven’s endless joys of praise and prayer,
That I may evermore declare:
Though you were angered, Lord, I will give thanks to you, For now your wrath is past, and you do comfort me.

Solomon Ibn Gabirol

translated by Israel Abrahams (1899)

Morning Song

AT the dawn I seek Thee, Refuge and rock sublime,— Set my prayer before Thee in the morning, And my prayer at eventime. I before Thy greatness Stand, and am afraid:— All my secret thoughts Thine eye beholdeth Deep within my bosom laid. And withal what is it Heart and tongue can do? What is this my strength, and what is even This the spirit in me too? But verily man’s singing May seem good to Thee; So will I thank Thee, praising, while there dwelleth Yet the breath of God in me.

Solomon Ibn Gabirol

translated by Nina Davis in Songs of Exile (1901)

A SONG OF REDEMPTION

CAPTIVE of sorrow on a foreign shore,
A handmaid as ‘neath Egypt’s slavery:
Through the dark day of her bereavement sore
She looketh unto Thee.
Restore her sons, O Mighty One of old!
Her remnant tenth shall cause man’s strife to cease.
O speed the message; swiftly be she told
Good tidings, which Elijah shall unfold:
Daughter of Zion, sing aloud! behold
Thy Prince of Peace!

Wherefore wilt Thou forget us, Lord, for aye?
Mercy we crave!
O Lord, we hope in Thee alway,
Our King will save!

Surely a limit boundeth every woe,
But mine enduring anguish hath no end;
My grievous years are spent in ceaseless flow,
My wound hath no amend.
O’erwhelmed, my helm doth fail, no hand is strong
To steer the bark to port, her longed-for aim.
How long, O Lord, wilt Thou my doom prolong?
When shall be heard the dove’s sweet voice of song?
O leave us not to perish for our wrong,
Who bear Thy Name!

Wherefore wilt Thou forget us, Lord, for aye?
Mercy we crave!
O Lord, we hope in Thee alway,
Our King will save!

Wounded and crushed, beneath my load I sigh,
Despised and abject, outcast, trampled low;
How long, O Lord, shall I of violence cry,
My heart dissolve with woe?
How many years, without a gleam of light,
Has thraldom been our lot, our portion pain!
With Ishmael as a lion in his might,
And Persia as an owl of darksome night,
Beset on either side, behold our plight
Betwixt the twain.

Wherefore wilt Thou forget us, Lord, for aye?
Mercy we crave!
O Lord, we hope in Thee alway,
Our King will save!

Is this thy voice?
The voice of captive Ariel’s woe unhealed?
Virgin of Israel, arise, rejoice!
In Daniel’s vision, lo, the end is sealed:
When Michael on the height
Shall stand aloft in strength,
And shout aloud in might,
And a Redeemer come to Zion at length.
Amen, amen, behold
The Lord’s decree foretold.
E’en as Thou hast our souls afflicted sore,
So wilt Thou make us glad for evermore!

Wherefore wilt Thou forget us, Lord, for aye?
Mercy we crave!
O Lord, we hope in Thee alway,
Our King will save!