I was sleeping, but my heart was awake
Jacob ha-Sofer
Early 16th Century
A Poem on David ha-Reuveni
Hark! My beloved! Here he comes,
Thousands, myriads at his side,
And over me, his banner of love!
I was sleeping, but my heart
was awake within me.
I could hear but could not see,
all my lover’s glory.
In my heart raged a fire
of love strong as death.
When I heard his glory,
heard my lover knocking,
The king (all glory to him!),
my love, clung to my heart.
For very love, I kissed his face
despite the space between us.
My love revealed his mystery
in lovely words, hid nothing,
To his dear Jacob the Scribe,
my love among the youths,
Who feeds among the Roses,
divulged it lovingly.
My love descended to his garden,
to the fragrant furrow,
To restore the Temple’s basin,
and the fragrant incense,
To destroy soothsayers, wizards,
whose hopes are proved false.
He brought me to the wine-house,
his love-banner over me.
He said, “My son, whence comes
this gift, so excellent?”
I said, “For the Torah is so great,
wider than the ocean.”
He said, “What is your name,
my darling henna-cluster?”
I said, “Jacob the Scribe
am I, and at your service,
Sent you by a deer-fawn,
who feeds among love’s lilies.”
Said King David Reuveni,
“If the Lord would but requite me
And treat me with generosity,
I would sit with the Nagid,
And recite the Mishnah,
recite it this very day, in their favor.”
The king reflected to himself,
“How should I requite Abraham
De Leon, that sachet of myrrh?
May he live for many years,
May that scholar live, live on,
and grow into a fine old age.”
The royal signet rings,
the seal engraved,
The names of the kings—
who can divine their mysteries,
Comprehend their holiness
due to the Great and Holy Name?
Judah, your brothers
acknowledge you. All Israel
Truly love you.
Good fortune to you, Uziel,
For Moses’ law
is inscribed in your heart.
He kneeled, crouched like a lion—
like a lion! Who could raise him?
I bring Judah Ibn Zikri near me,
like a prince.
No evil men will trouble him,
nor will he bear more sorrow.
Faithful Moses’ holy Torah—
sister, bride!—how you inflame me!
On you, Naḥman Ibn Sunbal
meditates by day and night,
He is indeed a Lovely Planting
and will bring good tidings.
Better than perfumers’ powders,
is the best of roses.
I say, curses on the wicked
heretics, informers,
Who do not believe
that redemption is close by.
Better than a lot of wealth
is Jacob of the Roses’ name.
Dearer to me is his good name
than any silver or any gold.
May his days pass in well-being,
and his years in love.
Sustain me with wine jugs,
make my bed with apples.
I have recited all the sacred texts,
for I am sick with love.
I have made confession, so tell me
the good tidings’ mystery.
Before the day becomes hot,
before the shadows flee,
Let us who await redemption
go, redeemed, to Zion,
To witness there the pilgrimage
and festival libations.
The redemption of captives appears
on the way to Jerusalem,
For the Lord shows Himself
in a vision from heaven,
His twice-daily unifiers
are no longer abandoned.
He ordered for Jacob’s salvation
Jacob the rose—named in truth.
May his days pass in well-being
and his years in song.
He will be the commander
of the folk innumerable.
This man David is our kin,
a kinsman bound to redeem.
Listen to the prince’s voice;
do not fear or be afraid.
For the Holy One, the blessed,
has brought redemption near.
Look at Solomon the king,
daughters of Jerusalem,
At the diadem divine,
by his mother bestowed,
Making him his people’s master—
a man of great spirit.
Give joy to Jerusalem
and joy to those who love her!
All who still mourn for her
will end up frail as water.
Botsra’s hands are feeble,
Joseph’s house aflame.
Requite our enemies;
wreak vengeance on them.
Speed our redemption;
let us march forth, heads held high.
Heal all the suffering
of your folk so wretched.
May Israel be glad as a bridegroom
when our redeemer comes,
In the garden pavilion
of David, our king and lord,
In the angels’ mysterious company,
O God revered, our shield.
Encourage us, O Lord,
for our holy ancestors’ sake.
Hasten our redemption
by the king of men,
And in the Most Sacred Place,
song will be uttered to You.
Translated by .
Raymond P.
Scheindlin
Credits
Jacob ha-Sofer, “I Was Sleeping, but My Heart Was Awake: A Poem on David ha-Reuveni, (Hebrew)” in Piyut ve-shirah be-yahadut Maroko (Piyyut et poésie hébraique au Maroc) by Joseph Chetrit (Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, 1999), 21–33.
Published in: The Posen Library of Jewish Culture and Civilization, vol. 5.
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