Prelude: The little book known as Perek Shira has a long and obscure history. Parts of it go back to the time of the Talmud; fragments of it dating to the 10th century can be found in the Cairo Geniza. The first full edition we possess was printed in Venice in 1576.
The text is only a few pages long; it can be found here, with translation by Rabbi Natan Slifkin.
Listen, O earth, to these wounds,
ReplyDeleteI have been pounded on the peaks,
elevated and alone.
Who ascends these holy mountains,
and why?
I bled all over my back pack,
descended at the penultimate moment.
Snatched away from the precipice was I,
descended into the valley
where I sat quietly on a bench with my legs crossed,
my eyes closed, waiting for a bus, nothing loftier,
and I suppose I would have remained there
if not sitting next to me was Socrates,
watching for the light to change.
His skepticism, as always,
was an inspiration,
I went home in spite of him.
A drunken priest from Glasgow showed me the way,
only someone that lost can send someone else home.
All that was holy entered through my wounds,
the last place I expected.
O earth, pay attention to the bleeding sky,
brother elements, sister flesh,
listen a little will you --
at least give ear to these words.
Listen, O earth, to these wounds.
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