Songs to my self

自娱一记

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Songs to my self

by Yehuda Amichai

1
My soul is damaged like the lungs of a diamond cutter.
Beautiful and hard are the days of my life.

My body is like a bank note without cover.
If someone demands gold, I’ll have to die.

Already my hands are in their place, my eyes are,
my house is, only I still drift.

I drift.
Beautiful and hard are the days of my life.

2
The world and I have eyes in common:
I look with them into it, it looks into me.

If I weep
the world doesn’t care.

But if the world weeps into me
I flood my banks.

3
Like an infant messing itself with food
I want to mess myself with the world’s problems.

All over my face, my eyebrows,

my shirt, my trousers, the table cloth.

The dress of my love, my mother,

the mountains and the sky, all the people,
the feet of angels.