Time of Sucession

Trinity Journal of Literary Translation | 147

Time of Sucession

trans. Venina Kalistratova

When I saw the walled up cave and I realised that the people inside were dead, I revisited the site of the holocaust, my head started spinning in that same way in which the heartwoods of the forest were distorted by the smoke. And the world was spinning in front of my eyes, my sight was cloaked by tears. I travelled to the people of Prevala. It was not but later that we learnt that the Turks had found the cave, which is now called Cheleveshtniza. A woman, driven mad by hunger, went through the forest with her two year old son looking for mushrooms and was caught by the gang. They beat her so she would reveal the whereabouts of the cave, yet all she did was wailing. Then they stripped her child naked and threatened him with knives. She did not snitch yet cried for help even more hysterically. When those in the cave heard her shouting,recognised her voice and feared she had encountered some wild beast in her wanderings then they ran to her rescue. The Turkish hoard scouted the location of the cave, surrounded it and called the refugees to surrender. Three wounded shepherds who still had a handful of powder, took a shot from within and wiped out the Turk standing foremost in the gang. The hosts piled up fir branches and set them on fire, and even though the smoke was gathering inside, only screams were heard, nobody came out. The Turkish soldiers made a pyre at the entrance of the cave and threw the hysterical mother and her two year old, for she was eager to join the others inside. Screams cold no longer be heard as the fire reached the firmament. Whether the host driven mad by the fire set ablaze the forest, in a bid to scorch all the roods on the trees, or the holocaust of the cave leapt from one tree to another, was ever a mystery, but they themselves barely escaped from the flaming woods. So perished in the cave of Cheleveshtniza one– hundred innocent souls.

When the people of Prevala saw me, thought they were seeing a ghost, for they reckoned me amongst those inside the cave. Their eyes were red from crying, as if they had been smoked by the fire. They had been watching the fire from Prevala. Grasping me with joy they would ask:

–Is that you, father? Where have you been? And I would answer:

–I was in the deep of the forest, then I had an epiphany. God himself spoke to me and said: “ Go, give yourselves to the Turks and receive their faith. For it is all the same whether you shall call me Allah or Jesus, as long as you have a god.”

An upheaval broke out, some tried to kill me, others warded them off. Then Momchil, lying under a tree, strove to rise yet he stumbled on account of his broken leg, shouting

кръстовете по дърветата, или огънят пред пещерата прехвръквал от дърво на дърво, не се разбрало, ала турците едва се измъкнали от пламналата гора. Тъй загинали сто и петдесет невинни души в пещерата Челевещница.

Когато хората от Превала ме видяха да излизам от гората, помислиха, че виждат призрак, защото ме знаеха в пещерата. И очите им още бяха червени от плач, като че ли сами бяха опушени от огъня. Те бяха гледали пожара от Превала. И като ме пипаха, радваха ми се и викаха: — Ти ли си, отче? Къде беше?

И аз им казах: — Бях вдън горите, та видях знамение. И сам бог ми каза: „Идете, предайте се на турците и приемете тяхната вяра. Защото е все едно дали ми викат аллах, или Исус. Само имайте бог.“

И се вдигна глъчка, и едни искаха да ме убият, а други ме бранеха. И Момчил, който лежеше под едно дърво, рече да стане; ала се тръшна заради счупения си крак и викаше с все сила: — Дръпнете се да го устреля!

И когато хората се дръпнаха, видях го в дъното на улея от две човешки стени да лежи на една страна. Опираше се на левия лакът . а в десницата си държеше пищов. И хубав беше Момчил, като ангелотмъстител с огнени очи, хлътнали под прави вежди — със стисната широка уста и с мършави бузи, хлътнали с две прави черти върху лицето му. И двете жили на силния му врат тупаха, а от превръзката на главата му капеше кръв.

И му рекох: — Убий ме, ала пусни хората да слязат в селата. Всеки бог е бог на живите и тия, които слизат в гроба, не славословят никой бог.

А двете му черни очи ме пронизаха, и черното око на пищова ме гледаше в челото. После и трите очи се затвориха и Момчил удари пищова в земята, та заплака. И викаше: — Защо ме извади от Дупката? И после ми се молеше: — Отче! Баща ми! Отче! Другите! Рекох му: — Слава на Манол и другите, ала някои трябва да останат живи, за да разправят за делата им и да тачат паметта им.

with all his might:

– Step aside so I can shoot him myself.

And when the crowd separated, I saw him down the back of the alley leaning on his side, shielded by the mass of two human figures. He was standing on his left leg, holding the gun in the right hand. Handsome was Momchil, with fiery eyes like an archangel avenger, embedded under straight eyebrows, his wide mouth shut tight, his cheeks emaciated, squalid with two straight furrows on his face. Both tendons of his prominent neck were vibrating, blood was dripping from the bandages around his head.

I said to him:

– Kill me but let the people go down to their villages. Every god is such to the ones who live, those who descend to the grave, worship no one.

His black eyes transfixed me, that of his gun was looking straight at my forehead. Then all three eyes closed, Momchil dropped the gun against the ground and burst into tears. He kept muttering: – Why did you take me out of the Hole?

Then he cried: What about my father, what about the others? – Glory to Manol and the others, but at least some need to survive so they can give witness of their deeds and keep their memory alive.

The crowds again surrounded me from both sides, some with open arms, others with knives. The priest of Prosoyna saved me by shouting:

– Stop! How dare you to go against the will of God? This is a holy man.

And behind us, two priests, two hundred souls followed from the hill above Prevala, and a hundred others bid us farewell among cries and curses. And brother was torn from his brother, father from his son. I was leading the backsliders. Someone from Prevala took a shot killing the last of the array. It was me he could not kill, for I walked ahead.

As we were swaying down the road, we kept staring at the ground. And my sight galloped all over the straight fir trees, my back erect. I started walking upright just as a fir tree. Then the people, as they saw that, cheered up for they reckoned that a man could not walk towards ignominy with his head upright.

As I was gazing at the forest, I saw a cross carved on a tall tree in the middle of the grove, a rood just like those in the holy woods of Cheleveshtniza. Then I stray off my path, I stuck my lips to the cross as if trying to suck out the pitch from the bark, yet the people

И хората отново се нахвърлиха от двете ми страни, едните с отворени длани, другите с ножове. Спаси ме попът на Просойна, като викаше: — Стойте! Нима ще тръгнете против волята божия? Това е свят човек.

А виждах го, че трепере и иска да спаси клетия си живот.

И след нас, двамата попове, тръгнаха двеста души от стана над Превала, а стотина ни изпратиха с плачове и клетви. И брат се делеше от брата, и син от баща си. Аз водех отстъпниците. И един от Превала стреля, та уби последния от редицата. Мене не можа да убие, защото вървях първи.

И като се люшкахме по пътя надолу, гледахме земята. И погледът ми тръгна по правите борове, и духът ми тръгна след погледа ми, гърбът ми се изправи и вече вървях изправен като бор. А хората, като видяха това, ободриха се, защото си рекоха, че човек не може да върви към позор с изправено чело.

И като гледах боровете, на едно високо дърво пред поляната над Просойна видях издълбан кръст, като кръстовете в свещената гора на Челевещница. И се отбих от пътя, та залепих устни в кръста, все едно че смучех смолата на бора. Ала хората ме разбраха и всеки мина и се прости с кръста, и майките подвигнаха нагоре невръстните си деца.

Оттогава не съм целувал кръст.

understood me and each one of them came and bid farewell to the cross, the mothers lifted their children high above their heads.

Since that day, I have never kissed a cross.

152 | Hebrew

Online: Aviva-No

Shimon Adaf

*** הזּה ןמְּזה ימ לׁש רֹקּה רבוֹצ ,תוֹכתּמ וֹמְכּ .םיקרְבּהְו

,וֹתוֹא היְחאשׁ המּלְו הזחה לע חנּמ טוּלּמ ןוֹיְסנ לכּ .םיקְרוֹעה באַ תא ערְקי

)1 ,רבדּ(

.ו

סוֹניְקוֹאה ןמ דבכּ בל הּל היה ימּאְל .עקשׁ אוּהְו ?רּבְדּמה תא תוֹמצֲעבּ םיׁשח םתּא תוֹעוּקְתּ ,תוֹעוּבְט תוֹניפְּסה תא

These poems are taken from the Israeli poet Shimon Adaf’s collection Aviva-No (2009). Adaf is one of the most original voices in Israeli contemporary literature – both prose and poetry. The poems here presented are taken out of his third and most recent volume of poetry. For his first book of poems, Icarus’ Monologue (1997), Adaf won the Israeli Ministry of Education Prize, and parts of it have been included in the Israeli high school literature curriculum. He also wrote six books of prose fiction, one of which, titled Mox Nox, recently won the prestigious Israeli Sapir Prize (2013).

Aviva-No is a powerful lamentation for Adaf’s sister, Aviva, who died at the young age of 43 and who played a very significant role in the construction of his identity as a writer. It’s really an extraordinary volume – especially with regard to Adaf’s use of language; he is able to blend together contemporary (at times almost colloquial) Hebrew with old biblical, Talmudic and Rabbinic intertextualities in a truly remarkable way.