Читать книгу The Scroll of Anatiya - Zoë Klein - Страница 5

The words of Anatiya, daughter of Avigayil, one of the handmaids at the temple at Anatot in the territory of Benjamin. 2She fell deeply in love with Jeremiah in her thirteenth year. 3Her body was so faint with love for Jeremiah that her soul caught in her throat and made her mute for the remainder of her days. 4In the quietude of her love, she penned the songs of her heart. 5She shadowed Jeremiah all of his days like a faint aroma of meadow, like a distant memory of lilies abloom in the valley of Sharon. 6A child-spook, a brittle tea-leaf, she hid within her a passion for the prophet Jeremiah that was silver-trumpet-loud.

7The moment I saw you I knew:

That I had been destined for you when my soul was yet on high;

before I was a swell in my mother’s belly, I was consecrated

to be the one to love you as a desert flower loves a drop of dew.

8I saw you

surrounded with God

and I fell upon my face

and praised God, and blessed you,

9and I knew that surely I would die

should I lift my eyes and see

the Holy One face to face,

10but I heard your brave little voice

as a clear glass bell ring out:

“Ah, Lord God,

I don’t know how to speak!”

11I lifted my eyes,

I could not help myself!

Your voice stirred me so.

12I looked up and saw you

standing at God’s very core,

and you were not consumed!

13No, you radiated like a beacon

in a pure star-dewy mist,

your skin was translucent,

luminous,

a veil of sunlight over

a sky-blue soul.

14Your eyes were two black moons

sailing through your open face,

Your skin gleamed like a polished marble floor.

15Your ears were small

as a newborn’s open palms,

snatching at God’s words,

which filled the air like thin bubbles.

16You dazzled me.

I opened my mouth to cry out to you,

and the God that surrounded you streamed into my throat, swelling my soul.

17I thought I might die, but I lost my voice instead of my life

~wrote Anatiya.

18When God put out a hand and touched your mouth,

God put out another hand,

and touched the tip of a finger to my lips,

whispering, “Shhhh.” 19I never spoke again.

But I would gladly give my tongue, Jeremiah,

if I might be your life companion,

that I might be your quiet rose

among the damsels of the land.

20I tucked almond blossoms into my hair

and scratched your name with a twig under my thigh,

over and over until it scarred,

that my body might never forget whilst she slept

the one whom my soul loves.

21I set my pot on the fire

and the steam curled away

from the heat in my fingers.

22My fingers could have been fire-sticks.

They dripped thick myrrh as candles running wax,

longing, forgive me, to touch.

23I was quick to stir tea

and warm up the rocks that I might bake cakes for you.

24I took three measures of flour and hastily kneaded.

25My fingers spread outward over the dough,

wings of a white dove a-flutter.

26I baked you honey cakes with crumbled mint

and I left them by your door every morning,

and so my fingers touch you

~wrote Anatiya.

27At night I lay awake on my couch.

This love threw me sandward into a swoon

countless times throughout the day

and I began to feel myself pale and unearthly.

28I wondered whether I was human at all,

or whether—God forgive me one untamed thought!—

perhaps I myself was an angel,

muted so as not to distract from my singular mission:

29to sustain my love with cakes

and protect the embers of his precious light.

30Or perhaps I am just sick with love

and this fever keeps my feet just over this land

so that I hover like a gold-laced cloud,

dizzy and tearful,

clinging for my dear life

to a mountaintop.

31I might kiss you never,

but if I could save you but once,

if I could be there one time

to throw my body before a poisoned dart,

32if I could be there one time only

to eat up your depression

and die of it in your place,

it would be sweeter to my soul than a kiss.

No treasure could match it

~wrote Anatiya.