Saturday, June 18, 2005

Lamentation of the Borderguard

I do not want to be a borderguard, said the borderguard.
I don’t want to be a bodyguard.
I don’t want to be a guardian angel.
I don’t want to be a guide.
I want not to be a grinder.
I don’t want to be a garnet.
I don’t want to be a guerdon.
I don’t want to be a gaud.
But my own unwillingness is grinding and grounding me
and I’m standing on guard, in my own octagonal garden.


I don’t want to be a watchman, answered the watchman.
I don’t want to be a guardsman.
I don’t want to be a watchguard.
But my own unwillingness is watching over me,
standing alone, wavering in the wind.


I’m the door-keeper, observed the porter.
But nobody asked me
about my will.





© 2000, Gali-Dana Singer
From: To Think: River
Publisher: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, Tel Aviv

© Gali-Dana Singer
© Translation: Gali-Dana Singer and Ashraf Noor





















2 comments:

Tom Beckett said...

Your work here--words and images--is extraordinary. I hope you resume posting.

fratrum said...

The borderlines of sense in the morning light
are naked as a line of poetry in a war.

(Robert Duncan.)