To the wheel that turns the river’s waters

Solomon Mazal Tov

Mid-16th Century

To the wheel that turns the river’s waters
And brings them upward from the flowing deep,
I sing this song, a song to banish sorrow.
For all who love and cherish and desire
The ways of poetry and eloquence,
I speak and utter poetry and set
My verses’ hands upon a lofty place
Built out of precious stones, solid as brass.
I asked that wheel, “Why do you cry and groan
And wail with lamentations like a mourner,
Never flagging, with a voice so loud
That it is audible in heaven’s heights?
Your sorrow is engraved deep in our heart.
And you are like a prisoner in chains.”
It answered, “Woe is me, alas, alack!
Are valleys better for me than the mountains?
I was a verdant cypress, high and tranquil.
My branches clung right to the sky,
Lovely vegetation! Even oaks
Hid from the sound I made and slunk away.
I smashed the cedars with my roar,
My voice made earth and heaven tremble.
My branches and my boughs stretched out as far
As Jazer in Transjordan, reached the desert.
Giants could shelter in my twigs and boughs
And in the branches rising from my trunk.
In my shade they sheltered, in the shadows
Of my thickets, looking like mere tendrils.
My boughs were full of birds that made abounding
Song and melody with their sweet mouths.
My splendid crown served alike for eagles
And for songbirds as a nesting place.
Swallows sang for joy there, with their song
Awakening those who slept the sleep of love.
How, then, can I be still, not make my flute-like wail,
Or raise commotion like a drunken man
In streets and marketplaces, when my heart’s
Ablaze with fire that flashes as it burns?
I can’t be silent, and my weeping
Cannot cease. I cannot hold my peace.
I tear the membrane of my heart and my entrails,
I mourn like someone wearing sackcloth.
Therefore get ready to arrange your words.
Be on your mark, not like those folks who open
Their mouths so that their fork—their tongue—can rise,
Although their words are only bits and pieces.

Translated by
Raymond P.
Scheindlin
.

Notes

[The last lines are somewhat obscure.—Trans.]

Credits

Solomon Mazal Tov, “To the wheel that turns the river’s waters (Hebrew)” (Poem, Constantinople, 16th Century). Published in: Y. D. Markon, “A Collection of Poems from the Book ‘Shirim u-Zemiroth ve-Tishbahoth (Hebrew)’' Melilah: Manchester Journal of Jewish Studies vol. III–IV (1950): 255–75:261–262.

Published in: The Posen Library of Jewish Culture and Civilization, vol. 5.

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Creator Bio

Solomon Mazal Tov

First Half of the 16th Century

Solomon Mazal Tov, a prolific poet, lived in Istanbul. His father may have been from Italy. Around seventy of his poems have reached us, the largest surviving corpus by a poet of his generation. Many Jews fleeing the Iberian Peninsula arrived in Constantinople during Mazal Tov’s lifetime, and his poetry demonstrates the influence of the Spanish tradition. Mazal Tov wrote secular poetry—including a poem dedicated to the Ottoman sultan Suleiman (possibly in honor of his ascent to the throne in 1520) and another about chess—as well as liturgical poetry. His poems employ biblical language. In addition, Mazal Tov was a printer. His printing house produced seven books, and Mazal Tov composed approbations and recommendations for other works. References in his poetry suggest that he also composed a prose work about the 613 commandments, although this has not survived.

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