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The Selected Poetry Of Yehuda Amichai, Newly Revised and Expanded edition (Literature of the Middle East)

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Reading Yehuda Amichai in Hebrew is wonderful. His sense of word is matched only by the way in which his whimsy and depth reflect Israel. But translations in English have been so bad that the translators, editors, and publishers of such editions should probably be exiled to a supermarket in the suburbs where they are forced to listen to Rod McKuen all day. This, on the other hand, is poetry. I attribute the success of this volume to the fact that both Chana Bloch and Stephen Mitchell, the translators, are such outstanding poets and translators in their own rights. A few of my favorite poems are missing, but so many wonderful ones are here; reading them in this English is like discovering them all over again, and discovered how good he is all over again.

To read Yehuda Amichai in English is to sojourn, yes, in Jerusalem, more, in Amichai's denuded heart -- but to see it all with a crick in my neck, able only to look out the left-hand side of the bus. In this translation of his Selected Poetry, the scenes pass: stone and sand architecture; crowds of workers, soldiers, family members; heaped goods and quiet meals; long loves and fleeting notice. Reading these poems is to sustain explosions of new sense memories, to be consumed with fresh details -- reading the poems in English is to know they harbor still more beauty. Not knowing Hebrew, I can't turn my head to see what incomparable, heartbreaking balance of truth and wish lies out that window.

Amichai's voice is calm, colloquial, casual. The way one might say, "Pardon me, you've dropped your pen," Amichai will say, "And in the big cities, protestors blocked the roads like / a blocked heart, whose master will die..."

So I wonder what I'm not hearing. How must one who makes easy fantastical connections, who sets single nouns and entire memory constructs equal, also play with homonym, rhythm, internal rhyme, with invented words, cousins of ancient words? This is, after all, Amichai--a poet credited with revivification, with re-knitting the bones of Hebrew vernacular. His poetry gave a country a new map into its old language.

Here's Amichai: "At the end of summer I breathe this air / that is burnt and pained. My thoughts have / the stillness of many closed books: / many crowded books, with most of their pages / stuck together like eyelids in the morning."

And Amichai, to a woman: "You had a laughter of grapes: / many round green laughs. / Your body is full of lizards. / All of them love the sun."

In these poems, the acts of watching and describing become one intention, one result. Amichai systematizes little, responds much; sees, and does not sneer; judges, not to dispose but to know. His poems are not slices of life, but core samples.

If you want to learn something about how to love a city and yet not pretend its horrors do not exist, how to cherish a person, yet not omit flawed relationship, read Yehuda Amichai. If you want to read not a declaration of love, but a proof of love, read Amichai. For to observe without flinching, whatever terrors of truth or beauty may appear, and remain steadfast, observing, is a proof of love. "I see everything about you," Amichai says to the city, the seasons, the soldiers, his woman, his father, his God, "and here I am still."

Amichai is not frightened away. He thereby makes it safe for us to look on a terrible world complete.

I suspect that in Hebrew, the one difficulty of these poems would dissipate. In weight, in flavor, the poems are like a rare, nutritive honey -- not a condiment but a dietary staple, heavy, dependable. I suspect that in Hebrew the tone dances, that the phrases don't share a single, though delicious, viscosity, as in English. But who am I to complain of manna?

What survives translation is not the full tour, not a map to Hebrew vernacular. What survives is a map through Amichai. We can navigate by these lines and points, read the poems like the knots of a safety rope -- here -- we descend into the technical truths of war, of loss, and of heretofore unimaginable love.

Amichai is the most popular and beloved poet of Israel. His language is at once understandable , and clear, deep and suggestive. He learned from American poetry the colloquial voice and he speaks to his reader in a kind of down-to- earth language which is nonetheless rich with knowledge of Hebrew traditional texts, most prominently the Bible. Amichai writes of the great themes , love and war, and he writes out of his own experience. He writes with reverence and irony both in relation to the people close to him and to the land of Israel. His connection with Jerusalem is special and he presents the many layers of its complex history and identity through his own personal daily meanderings in the city.
He is a humane and profound poetry who while confronting the most painful realities nonetheless presents a voice strongly affirming the value of life.

I recently bought this on a whim at the book store and was pleased at it turning out to be one of my best purchases. Instantly one of my favorites, Amichai writes with the perfect mixture of narrative and metaphor, balancing his poetry perfectly on the line between clarity and obscurity. His metaphors are original, concise, and leave you thinking. At the same time, Amichai's poetry is not inaccesible. His writing is simple enough to grasp the first time through, but also complex enough for you to peel away the layers of meaning as you read again and again.

While some of the poetry is political or cultural in nature (Amichai is an Israeli and Jew), don't let that discourage you from thinking it doesn't have any application to your life. Like Chaim Potok, Amichai breathes a life into his words that enlightens you toward life's simplicities, regardless of your background. Top notch stuff.

I have other translations of Amichai's poetry but love this book, translated by Chana Bloch and Stephen Mitchell, the best.

Yehuda Amichai, on the one hand an Isreali soldier, and, on the other hand a lyric poet, expressed his own voice in his psalm-like poems. He remained the identity as an Isreali and a patriot too, but he won't hide up his personal voice, expecially his hatred towards war. In some of his poems, we can even hear his innerkmost soliliquy. The translation version of Stephen Mitchell and Chana Bloch is unquestionably the best one, which remains vitality of the original version.

I was first introduced to Amichai's poetry through this collection. He is a first-rate poet in any language; the translations by Chana Block and Stephen Mitchell are wonderful.

Amichai was born in Germany in 1924, but immigrated to Israel as a boy of 12; he began writing poetry early, especially in the exuberant atmosphere of the newly proclaimed Israel in 1948. Amichai continued to write poetry throughout the twentieth century (he died in 2000), winning national and international prizes and recognition as one of the greatest poets of the age, not only of Hebrew, but internationally. As modern Hebrew is a language still emerging from the shadows of its ancient-but-still-used predecessor, Amichai was a major figure in developing the poetic nuances of the language that helped to expand the limits of meaning in words and usage.

Amichai's poetry represented here spans most of his productive life. The first part includes poems from his collections from 1955 to 1968, from the birth of the state of Israel to the aftermath of the 1967 war. One poem, 'Jerusalem 1967', is a long and majestic play on emotions and images -- Jerusalem here is likened to Sodom and Pompeii, as well as revered as the universal city that it is; Amichai's personal experience floods the historical events he witnessed with emotion that conjures up ancient memories.

The second part includes poems from writings 1971 to 1985. The maturity of Amichai's passions and writing style match the development of world affairs, into a post-war situation, with tentative amblings toward peace. Still there are tragedies and problems, and these make appearances in Amichai's poems. The weariness of the modern world is highlighted in his poem, 'Jerusalem is full of used Jews' -- worn out by history, Amichai wrote. Still there are hopeful signs, as love in its many faces is always the centre of Amichai's world. Amichai is a patriot of sorts, in that he celebrates the place and culture of Israel, but is not blind to the problems there, and by no means a 'death to the enemy' kind of writer -- a bit ironic, given that his poetry is popular among the soldier-citizenry of Israel.

Some poems have decided biblical and religious connections, even if they are not religious in tone or direct meaning. 'Jacob and the Angel' obviously takes its title from the early story in Genesis, but beyond that, the context and content is very different. Some show the international character of modern Israeli experience. Many poems, while decidedly Amichai, could have been written anywhere, and the situations and feelings of love are universal.

Stunning poetry!