Here's a sweet little lullaby I wrote. Anyone wants to set it to music for me?
A Lullaby
Every evening an angel comes, planting starts in Heaven’s field;
Now they shine: with a gentle humming, the days long woes they heal.
Black silk covers the drowsy earth with tranquility’s delight,
From each bedroom a whisper’s heard: little children wish good night.
Sweetest boy, little, tender yawns come and bid you: rest your head;
Yes, lie still till the break of dawn by a silent night is lead.
Then you’ll wake as a healthy lad, making everyone’s day bright;
Meanwhile, dream of the day you’ve had. Go to sleep, sweet boy. Good night.
An Cat Dubh, 21.10.08
Someday, M. F., I will lull you to sleep with this song. Don't lose faith.
And something I should've mentioned in the previous post: Khavatselet and I finally met!
We went to see the Russian film Mermaid (Русалка) by Anna Melikyan at the Haifa Film Festival. The film was excellent (it is a nomine for the foreign Oscar award), but I was a bit sad, feeling that I probably lacked much of the cultural background to understand the film properly. The leading actress, Masha Shalayeva, was also there to answer the audiences questions. She had an interpretor at hand, but she seemed rather redundant: the audience conversed with her in Russian, and she just translated it to the rest of the audience (which was, most likely, just a handful of people).
I was the only one who spoke to her in Hebrew, asking if the actors really understand all the deep symbolism in the film (she said at the beginning, 'I am just the actress, not the director'). The rest of the audience asked her questions like 'How old are you?' (she replied, '43,' but it was clearly a joke; her role in the film is of a 17-year-old lass, and she is actually 26) and 'Is this your first film?', questions I thought were redundant (one can easily look these questions up on Wikipedia). Shalayeva responded, 'No, we are just black workers. All the actors actually care about is when'll they finally be able to go home.' Later on I tried telling her in Russian, 'When you become a star, I'll be able to say I've met you beforehand,' but a word or two were missing from my vocabulary, so I had to speak to her in English.
Khavatselet said that I'm a Faltsan (Hebrew slang, basically meaning 'somewhat-ridiculously pompous' or 'pretentious', literally meaning 'farter'), and I said, 'You've known me for nearly a year. Didn't you know I'm a Faltsan?' (Of course I said it jokingly.) I told her I got the picture the whole festival is quite like that, and asked her if it's good, and she said it certainly isn't, so I quickly looked for something non-Faltsan-ish to say (she told me just to say she's cute, and so I did. Because she really is.)
While we were waiting for a cab, I told her how I tormented my little brother:
We betted on which album Maxwell's Silver Hammer is on. He said The Beatles (a.k.a. The White Album), and I said Abbey Road. Had I lost, I would've bought him a can of some drink. But I haven't, and thus he had to read a poem of Altermann's. I'd originally meant to let him read something light from The Seventh Column, but he kept on postponing it, so I let him read a difficult, three pages long poem: A Seas' Canopy from The Dove's City, which I think is his best book. He hated it ('It's worse than classic music!!'), and fell asleep whenever I went away (just to get something to drink). He was euphoric when he was finally over it ('Freedom!!').
She told me she'd read all of Altermann's The Dove's City and his first book, Stars Outside. I asked her hand in marriage that moment...
Anyway, the cab picked us up, brought her to wherever she wanted and me to the train station, thus ending the special night of my meeting with the sweetest thing ever born.
(See, dear? I mentioned you in my blog!)
And Mea She'arim Bene-Barakque delendæ sunt.
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