Jan 082013
 

The thrilling conclusion. Are you psyched? I’m cranked, brah. Cycles of Italian Hebrew love poetry. Dude. Yes.

The last five are here, here, here, here, and here.

Now wasn’t that fun?

Ephraim Luzzatto (1729 – 1792)
My Love’s Name

My love’s name I’ll write on trees in the forest,
On ice in the cold, on blossoms in summer;
Indeed, without her form, the light of the sun:
The night will be day and I’ll call the day night,
And without that visage like scarlet and snow
I’ll blanch or I’ll blush while I’m yet in this world.

אפרים לוצאטו
שם יפתי

 
שֵׁם יָפָתִי אֶכְתֹּב עַל עֵץ בַּיַּעַר,
עַל קֶרַח בַּקָּרָה, עַל צִיץ בַּקַּיִץ;
אָכֵן בִּבְלִי צַלְמָהּ, בִּבְלִי אוֹר שֶׁמֶשׁ:
בַּלַּיְלָה יוֹם, בַּיּוֹם אֶקְרָא הַלַּיְלָה,
וּבְלִי מַרְאֶה הַהוּא תוֹלָע וָשֶׁלֶג,
אַלְבִּין, אוֹ אֶתְאַדַּם, עוֹדִי בָאָרֶץ.
י

Transliteration/תעתיק:

Sheim yafatí ‘ekhtóv ʕal ʕeitz ba-yáʕar,
ʕal kéraḥ ba-karáh, ʕal tzitz ba-káyitz;
Akhéin bivlí tzalmáh, bivlí ‘or shémesh:
Ba-láilah yom, ba-yóm ‘ekrá ha-láilah,
Uvlí mar’éh ha-hú toláʕ va-shéleg,
‘Albín, ‘o ‘et’adám, ʕodí va-‘áretz.

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