Demons

Jacob Israël de Haan

1915

The Three Ketovim1

There are three Ketovim: in the early morning
One wanders off, who in the fresh bread
Has concealed his shameless anger.
Do not eat it, as it will lead to a painful death,
Over the years you will carry along a withered misery,
It softens your bones, weakens your desire,
Longings beset your heart, unknown,
Never overcome, senseless, cunning.
Hear, as every day breaks,
A Ketev bursting into that mocking laughter.
Preserve your salvation, break your fresh morning bread
Watching and praying, dip it in your salt
That you keep the Ketev off your course,
And do not become lost in a dark death.
A Ketev wanders greedily.
Summer afternoon, when the sun shines white,
The sky is the deepest blue, still more beautiful summer
You dream with enraptured glances, no light,
No shadow passes over the face
The high heavens, sweeter and drowsier
The soothing air filled with scents of trees and flowers.
See: roses, wine tulips, poppies, colors . . .
Heed your salvation: the dark Ketev flutters
In the finest summer hour, an ox horn
Is his shape that scratches shivering,
To drill the tip in your innocent heart.
O, heart my heart, the golden amulet,
God’s letter, may your weakness protect,
That you are kept safe from the cruel fury
Of the Ketev, and rescue your eternal salvation.
But of the ruinous Ketovim three
The most disgraceful is the Ketev-Meriri.2
A naked man, like a fiery hide,
From his body protrudes a waving gestation
Of red hair, in which blooms brightly
Hundreds of eyes, their gazes aglow
By the light of day and the darkness of night.
Every eye has its disease, that strikes,
Whenever the Ketev, to eternal suffering
Charmed by your beauty, gazes straight at you.
And in the depth of his murderous heart
He has one eye, the pupil is black as night,
And surrounded not by white, but by bleeding red.
Whoever he sees with it drops dead screaming,
Lost forever in greedy power,
That no force will break, no plea will soften.

Safe Salvation

Ketev Yochud-Tsohorroyim went3
On a cruel, tawdry robbery, when twilight
Took off on trembling wings and
The drowsy sun sleepily rose
He had tired of night pleasures, softly and nicely
His feet tread, his back bent
Very little and with tired-looking closed eyes
He walked dreamily, his cheeks dull
Withering a moment like two sorrowful flowers.
Along his blooming path he met
Elijah, who was thought well of,
The Prophet, who asked him in a reproaching tone:
“Where to, wicked Devil, who destroys
Every friend into whose eye yours look
That he no longer works in peace, has no rest,
That his soul dies eternally in darkness—
Does your heart never tire of bringing ruin?”
The Ketev replied, nicely, politely,
“My soul never has such an immense desire for tepid delights
As when it is satiated and tired
Eschews joys but does not rest
Before new joy scorches her wings.
To steal Yisroel the Levite
I will go this morning, that blooms so beautifully,
If I never saw day break,” but he sees
In his dream the coming of morning is still more beautiful,
His pink mouth smiles to his soul
Where fell light more beautiful than any light on earth.
That slender hand, sees, wrapped around his neck,
Blossoms like a May flower in the morning warmth,
He is so beautiful, he becomes still more beautiful,
I will ruin him with diseases and tender care,
So that his soul, which anyway will never die,
Blossoms forever in the beautiful twilight realm
Outside God’s light, averting Ketovim,
Hidden from my joy in sultry shadow.
But Elijah, He is always thought
For the sake of good, to have overpowered the Ketev
From his curse: “No, you shall not reach
To the blooming youth, in the name
Of God, keeper of Holy Israel
That drives rivers back into their well,
For whose foam-storming will seas part,
That disperses peoples and drives peoples together,
On you, Ketev, I cast a curse
That cannot break the force of your lust.
Wherever you shall hear or read my name
You shall flee, as if in fear of a storm
A bird flees from wind, and my name shall be
Against the frenzy of your lust, rapid and wild,
Protecting hearts like a golden shield.”
Elijah, Elijah, may he be believed,
He kept me free from the Morning Ketev.
On my heart I carry this story written,
Threat and rescue, in silver letters
On red silk woven in a money purse
Of golden threads, not a single gold treasure benefit,
But Elijah’s name against evil
Of Ketovim and sacrilegious outcasts:
On a sultry summer night revealed to me
One of the Ketovim on joyous variety;
He found my amulet, surprised, he read
The name of Elijah and fled weeping
And he left helplessly and I lay
Awaiting safely the break of day,
Protected by the prophet, good and great.
Guard your salvation, as many a Ketev wanders,
And you are beautiful, O, Friend, worship the prophets
May your heart not forget the law and justice of God,
And may your soul not descend in the darkness of the Ketovim.

Translated by
Lee
Mitzman
.

Notes

[Ketev (pl. ketovim) is a demon that, according to the Talmud, personifies overpowering noonday heat.—Trans.]

[The Bitter or Poisonous Ketev (Deuteronomy 32:34).—Eds.]

[The Early Afternoon Ketev (Psalm 91:6).—Eds.]

Credits

Jacob Israël de Haan, “Demonen” [Demons], Het Joodsche lied (Amsterdam: W. Versluys, 1915), pp. 191–97.

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

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Creator Bio

Jacob Israël de Haan

1881–1924

The Netherlands-born poet, novelist, lawyer, and journalist Jacob Israël de Haan was raised in a traditional Jewish home but abandoned religious observance as a young man for Dutch letters, education, and the Dutch social democratic movement. In 1904, while teaching at an elementary school in Amsterdam, he published Pijpelijntjes (Pipelines), an unapologetic autobiographical novel about a homosexual affair between two students, which scandalized many readers. Continuing to produce both poetry and fiction that included homosexual love and desire in unusually frank fashion, de Haan turned toward serious spiritual engagement with Judaism both in his poetry and his life, won respect and interest for his original legal theories as a law student and would-be jurist, and began a successful journalism career. During World War I, he developed an intense commitment to Zionism and settled in Jerusalem in 1919. But this was soon supplanted by an even more intense religious turn to Haredi Judaism, which, along with a deepening connection to the local Palestinian and traditional Jewish milieu of the city, turned de Haan into a vociferous and prominent anti-Zionist. He drew attention for his sharp journalistic attacks on Zionism aimed at European audiences in the name of the ultra-Orthodox community, appeals to British politicians to revoke British commitment to a Jewish national home in Palestine, and outreach to Arab leaders like the Hashemite Emir (and later first king of Jordan) Abdullah, proposing Jewish support for Arab statehood in Palestine in exchange for protections and preference to be shown to the Orthodox community. In response, activists of the fledgling Zionist Haganah militia assassinated de Haan in 1924. This act is generally deemed the first political assassination in the Yishuv (the Jewish settlement in pre-state Israel). German Jewish writer Arnold Zweig published a novel, De Vriendt Goes Home, in 1932, based on de Haan’s unusual life.

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