hebrew, poem (not mine), translation in next post
רַק עַל עַצְמִי לְסַפֵּר יָדַעְתִּי
צַר עוֹלָמִי כְּעוֹלַם נְמָלָה,
גַּם מַשָּׂאִי עָמַסְתִּי כָּמוֹהָ
רַב וְכָבֵד מִכְּתֵפִי הַדַּלָּה.
גַּם אֶת דַרְכִּי – כְּדַרְכָּהּ אֶל צַמֶּרֶת –
דֶּרֶך מַכְאוֹב וְדֶרֶךְ עָמָל,
יַד עֲנָקִים זְדוֹנָה וּבוֹטַחַת,
יַד מִתְבַּדַּחַת שָׂמָה לְאַל.
כָּל אָרְחוֹתַי הִלִּיז וְהִדְמִיע
פַּחַד טָמִיר מִיַּד עֲנָקִים.
לָמָּה קְרָאתֶם לִי, חוֹפֵי הַפֶּלֶא?
לָמָה כְּזַבְתֶּם, אוֹרוֹת רְחוֹקִים?
poem (not mine), translation by me
I could only ever speak for myself, by Rachel Bluwstein
I could only ever speak for myself
My world is as narrow as that of the ant,
Even my cargo I carried like her,
Too much and too heavy for shoulders so scant.
And on my way — as her way to the top —
A road lined with pain and a road made of toil,
The hands of the giants, malicious, don't stop,
Such that every advancement I make they may foil.
All my attempts were mocked and made tearful
By hands of the giants and trembling frights.
Why have you beckoned, O beaches of wonder?
Why did you lie to me, O distant lights?