From Non-Venetian Songs

Franciszka Arnsztajnowa

1889

When will the walls of prejudice collapse,
That split the fraternal human tribe into foes?
Will the flame of love, illuminating the earth,
Disperse the grim darkness of ignorance?
—Meanwhile the sun hides behind the clouds.
In vain does your heart burn with love,
In vain, exhorting people to fraternal accord,
You hold your hand out to the sons of earth. Jewish nation—
No one wants to see your hopes, your aspirations—
Your world is drowning in a fog of discord!
You’re a Jew, so the peoples’ radiance and glory,
Misery and progress, the world’s pain and delight are not for you.
When your breast groans, or when it burns with pride,
The icy scorn in your brother’s voice will cut it down:
“You want,” he screams, “a pound of Christian flesh!”
Does he toil in his workshop with eye and mind,
Head bowed over the glass of a retort?
Has he studied the complex structure of the world?
Has he tossed out new thoughts, feeding with his heart’s blood
The handful of people eternally hungry for knowledge?
Has he risen above millions with the power of his spirit,
Inspired by a word filled with fervor,
Bearing news from the world of the muses and gods?
Does he gently caress the ear with the sound of song,
Spinning silver tones from deep in his breast?
Does he go into bloody battle through the whistling of bullets,
In the ranks defending his brothers’ sacred cause?
The Jew suffers in vain—O shame, O disgrace!
Nothing will free him from the hellish clamor:
“It’s a Christian body you want; get away, Jew!”
But though my stern brother pushes away my hand,
Although we serve the Lord in different temples,
Although we lift up prayers with different words,
He, a lofty pine, and I, a cedar of Lebanon,
Will we not lay down our heads in one land?
Thus, though darkness divides the children of one mother,
I do not weep: a burning spark is glowing in my heart.
I believe the labor of centuries will kindle it,
I believe the flame of love will separate
The clouds of night—the sun will shine again.

Translated by
Madeline G.
Levine
.

Credits

Franciszka Arnsztajnowa, “Z piesni nieweneckich” [From Non-Venetian Songs], Izraelita, Jan. 6 (18), 1889, p. 24.

Published in: The Posen Library of Jewish Culture and Civilization, vol. 7.

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Creator Bio

Franciszka Arnsztajnowa

1865–ca. 1942

A Polish-language poet, dramaturge, and translator of English writers like Rudyard Kipling and W. Somerset Maugham, Franciszka Arnsztajnowa was born Franciszka Hanna Meyerson in Lublin to Malwina and Ber Meyerson, a Polish novelist and financier, respectively. Raised in a Polish-language milieu marked by a strong commitment to Polish national sensibility and culture, she was educated at the Lublin gymnasium for women. After high school, she moved to Germany to study biology and met Marek Arensztajn, a physician whom she would soon marry. They returned to Lublin, where Franciszka cofounded the Lublin Writers Association, and in 1895 published her first collection of poems, Poezje (Poetry). She also wrote plays, essays, and stories, often under pen names, including F.A.M. and Jan Górecki. Arnsztajnowa was also active in the women’s suffrage movement. In 1936, Arnsztajnowa was honored with the Polish Academy of Literature’s silver laurel. She was murdered by the Nazis, most likely in Treblinka.

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