reflection

A FEW WORDS ON THE SOUL

We have a soul at times.
No one's got it non-stop,
for keeps.

Day after day,
year after year
may pass without it.

Sometimes
it will settle for awhile
only in childhood's fears and raptures.
Sometimes only in astonishment
that we are old.

It rarely lends a hand
in uphill tasks,
like moving furniture,
or lifting luggage,
or going miles in shoes that pinch.

It usually steps out
whenever meat needs chopping
or forms have to be filled.

For every thousand conversations
it participates in one,
if even that,
since it prefers silence.

Just when our body goes from ache to pain,
it slips off-duty.

It's picky:
it doesn't like seeing us in crowds,
our hustling for a dubious advantage
and creaky machinations make it sick.

Joy and sorrow
aren't two different feelings for it.
It attends us
only when the two are joined.

We can count on it
when we're sure of nothing
and curious about everything.

Among the material objects
it favors clocks with pendulums
and mirrors, which keep on working
even when no one is looking.

It won't say where it comes from
or when it's taking off again,
though it's clearly expecting such questions.

We need it
but apparently
it needs us
for some reason too.

Wislawa Szymborska

Translated from the Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh

my yiddisha nightingale

1. Miss Minnie Rosenstein
Had such a voice so fine
Just like Tetrazzini
Any time that Minnie sang a song
You'd think of real estate seven blocks long
Some song!

Young Mister Abie Cohn used to call to her home
Just to hear her singing
Presents he was bringing
Full of bliss!
One night young Abie proposed to the Miss
Like this!

Yiddisha nightingale, sing me a song
Your voice has got such sweetness that it makes me strong
Yiddisha nightingale, sing me a song
I promise that I'll take you on a long honeymoon
I'd give a dollar to hear you, my queen

I wouldn't give a nickel to hear Tetrazzini
Just to hear your cultivated voice good and strong
I'd serve a year in jail
Yiddisha nightingale
Won't you sing me a song?

2. Then said young Abie Cohn
"I'm going to buy a home
One that's made of marble
Dear, where you can warble harmony
And I don't care for expenses you see
That's me!

I'll go and learn to play on the piano, say
You'll sing while I'm playing
People will be saying
As they pass
Some class!"

[song by irving berlin; toshikata mizuno; japanese fabric via florizel; charles louis verwee, a belgian, painted 'vanity.' the vase is by ando jubei, from the meiji era in japan; some considered it the golden age for cloisonne created for export, with the encouragement of the government.1 book design by carlos schwabe; george lepape did the artwork, but i don't know the designer....; lastly is flower viewing from shuntei miyagawa.]

the tune is here.