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The Diaries of Lea Goldberg translated by Tsipi Keller. The Hebrew poet's
travelogue of her 1937 trip to Italy













If you like travel blogs by poets try this one by National Poetry Series
winner Karen Swenson.

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Read more... )

My two part review begins with the poet's bio and backstory in New York Journal of Books and continues with a discussion of his poems in examiner:

"Anglophone readers (especially those who also read Hebrew) will find both this handsome book’s bilingual presentation of Ruebner’s selected poems, and his heart wrenching backstory described by translator Rachel Tzvia Back in her informative introduction and endnotes, compelling reading."


Read more... )

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At the time of her death in 2005, Dahlia Ravikovitch was Israel's second best loved poet after Yehuda Amichai. She was also a committed peace activist, yet her readers included Israelis from all points on the political spectrum.




photo of Israeli poet Dahlia Ravikovitch
photo of Israeli poet Dahlia Ravikovitch
Dan Porges


Hovering at a Low Altitude: The Collected Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch book cover


Two years ago a new translation of her complete poetry was published by New York publisher W.W. Norton, and last week a paperback edition of Hovering at a Low Altitude: The Complete Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch was released (perfect for poetry loving commuters). In my New York Journal of Books review of the book I describe Ms. Ravikovitch's work as "sophisticated, intelligent, conscientious, and empathic," and Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld's translations as "strong and moving English poems in their own right."

My review includes biographical background with references to her feminism, her political activism, her secularism, her mental health issues, and excerpts from her poems (had space allowed I would have included more). Here is her poem "The Dress":

The Dress

for Yitzhak Livni

You know, she said, they made you a dress of fire.
Remember how Jason's wife burned in her dress?
It was Medea, she said, Medea did that to her.
You've got to be careful, she said,
they made you a dress that glows like an ember,
that burns like coals of fire.

Are you going to wear it, she said, don't wear it.
It's not the wind whistling, it's the poison seething.
You're not even a princess, what can you do to Medea?
Can't you tell one sound from another, she said,
it's not the wind whistling.

Remember, I told her, that time when I was six?
They shampooed my hair and I went out into the street.
The scent of shampoo trailed after me like a cloud.
Then the wind and the rain made me ill.
I didn't know yet how to read Greek tragedies,
but that fragrance filled the air and I was very ill.
Now I can tell that perfume was unnatural.

What will become of you, she said, they made you a burning dress.
They made me a burning dress, I said. I know.
So why are you standing there, she said, you ought to beware.
Don't you know what that means, a burning dress?

I know, I said, but not to beware.
The scent of that perfume confuses me.
I said to her: No one has to agree with me,
I don't put my trust in Greek tragedy.

But the dress, she said, the dress is on fire.
What are you saying, I shouted, what are you saying?
I'm not wearing a dress at all, can't you see
what's burning is me.

For more info: David Cooper





via the late examiner.com

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"My cunt is hung,/hung with sea urchins,//My cunt bursts,/bursts with bladderwrack,//My cunt drips,/wet as a walrus snout.//My cunt is hungry."

and

"There’s only one way to kill your enemy://You must bite my clit off, pull it inside out,/and use it as an arrowhead."

Translated by Nancy Campbell

Read the three poems in their entirety and other translations on qarrtsiluni

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David Cooper's review of Yael Hedaya's novel Eden compares Jessica Cohen's translation with Ms. Hedaya's original Hebrew. The novel features two marriages and a teenage girl all of whom are at-risk and in varied states of distress. 

 

Read the entire review on nyjournalofbooks.com

 

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An excerpt from Eden appears in Words Without Borders

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"...One of the consolations of writing books is the seemingly unquenchable conviction that the next book will be better, will be bigger and bolder and more comprehensive and truer to the lives we live. We exist in a condition of hope, we love the beauty and truth that come to us, and we do our best to tamp down our doubts and disappointments.

We are on a quest, and are not discouraged by our collective suspicion that the perfection we look for in art is about as likely to turn up as is the Holy Grail. That is one of the reasons we, I mean we humans, are not only the creators, translators and consumers of literature, but also its subjects."

Read the entire article on nytimes.com

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