A New Translation Allows Readers to Follow Avraham Sutzkever’s Poetic Journey from Siberia to Tel Aviv

The great Yiddish poet Avraham Sutzkever (1913-2010) wrote poems while confined by the Nazis to the Vilna Ghetto, where he labored tirelessly to preserve Jewish books and manuscripts before escaping to take up arms with local partisans. After World War II, he settled in Israel, where he did much to foster and encourage other Yiddish writers while composing a prodigious poetic legacy of his own. Reviewing a newly published volume of his work, translated into English by Richard Fein, James Nadel writes:

[M]any of the pieces included [by Fein] have never before been rendered into English, but others have appeared in previous collections of Sutzkever’s work. The most prominent poems of the latter category are also those closest to Fein’s heart: the Siberia series from 1952–53, which was originally published in an earlier, longer, and somewhat different form in 1937. The series reflects on Sutzkever’s childhood years when he lived near the steppe city of Omsk. . . .

The poem “Recognition,” [part of this Siberia series], features a young speaker running to the top of a mountain because his father has told him that that is where the world ends. Arriving at the summit, the poet finds not an insurmountable boundary, but a platform from which he can gaze upon an expansive world and his “little dot of a father.” The realization that the world and its natural wonders continue beyond the isolated corner of his family’s cottage transforms the speaker of the poem into an unstoppable force of nature. . . .

Indeed, the scene . . . is transposed from the mountains of Siberia to the deserts of Israel in a previously untranslated poem (“Here I Am Fated to See . . . ”), written 35 years after the original image came into being and nearly twenty years after it was published in the Siberia series. Summiting the cliffs of a wadi, Sutzkever views the landscape through a “tear,” just as he had gazed upon the snow and ice of Siberia. The fire of the wadi reminds him of the “savor” of first snow. He has the same “revelation” that he did as “a child on the mountain” at the “beginning of my beginning.” Realizing the parallels between these two moments, the poet comments, “Someone wants my soul to fall to its knees/ Before it rises brand new in humid mirrors.”

These poems have never before appeared in the same volume, in English or in Yiddish. Read in tandem, they illustrate Sutzkever’s encounter with a new natural landscape to which he can apply his developed poetic sensibility. Past, present, and future mingle in this space. The poet is resurrected, phoenix-like, in fire, but the world around him is a mirror that reflects his frozen memories. The initial image of “discovery” is transmuted into continual and cyclical reinvention.

Welcome to Mosaic

Register now to get two more stories free

Register Now

Already a subscriber? Sign in now

Read more at In geveb

More about: Avraham Sutzkever, Poetry, Siberia, Yiddish literature

The Palestinian Authority Deliberately Provoked Sunday’s Jerusalem Riots

Aug. 16 2019

On Sunday, Tisha b’Av—the traditional day of mourning for the destruction of the two Jerusalem Temples—coincided with the Muslim festival of Eid al-Adha. While the Israeli government had initially banned Jews from the Temple Mount on that day, it later reversed its decision and allowed a few dozen to visit. Muslim worshippers greeted them by throwing chairs and stones, and police had to quell the riot by force. Just yesterday, an Israeli policeman was stabbed nearby. Maurice Hirsch and Itamar Marcus place the blame for Sunday’s violence squarely on the shoulders of the Palestinian Authority:

Sign up to read more

You've read all your free articles for this month

Register

Sign up now for unlimited access to the best in Jewish thought, culture, and politics

Already have an account? Log in now

Read more at Palestinian Media Watch

More about: Palestinian Authority, Temple Mount, Tisha b'Av