follow-up poem -- 2 versions

In the poems for October 14, some saw the three solo I!'s in Piercy's poem as an echo of the 3 mentions of gates; Another saw in the Simic poem the sense of “measly” as a way to convey small, in a world of abundance; The sharing about these poems hopefully will be on-going and enriching . To quote Primo Levi,
“The aims of life are the best defense against death”. They invite us to re-examine intentions, our choices, level of awareness. Bernie shared the Amichai poem below.


A Man In His Life by Yehuda Amichai (differences in parentheses)

A man in his life doesn’t have time to have
a time for everything.
He doesn't have enough seasons to have a season (seasons enough)
for every purpose. Qohelet * didn’t get it right when he said that. (*Ecclesiastes)

A man needs to love and hate in the same instant, (moment)
to laugh and cry with one and the same eyes,
with one and the same hands to throw stones,
and with one and the same hands to gather them,
to make love in war and war in love.

To hate and forgive, to remember and forget, (and to hate and forgive...)
to arrange and confuse, to eat and digest
what history elongates
over a great many years.

A man in his life doesn’t have time. (A man doesn't have time.)
The moment he lets go, he seeks.
The moment he finds, he forgets.
The moment he forgets, he loves.
The moment he loves, he begins to forget.

His soul is skilled, (his soul is seasoned, his soul
is very professional.)
his soul is very efficient.
Only his body remains an amateur (remains forever/
forever. It tries and errs, an amateur. It tries and misses
it doesn’t learn, it gets confused, gets muddled, doesn't learn a thing,
drunk and blind in its pleasures and its pains.

He will die as figs do, in autumn, (as figs die in autumn.)
shriveled and full of himself and sweet,
leaves dessicating on the ground, (leaves growing dry on the ground
bare branches already pointing (the bare branches already pointing to the place)
to the place where there's time for everything. (where there's time for everything.)


Version 2


A Man In His Life by Yehuda Amichai

A man doesn't have time in his life
to have time for everything.
He doesn't have seasons enough to have
a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes
Was wrong about that.

A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment,
to laugh and cry with the same eyes,
with the same hands to throw stones and to gather them,
to make love in war and war in love.
And to hate and forgive and remember and forget,
to arrange and confuse, to eat and to digest
what history
takes years and years to do.

A man doesn't have time.
When he loses he seeks, when he finds
he forgets, when he forgets he loves, when he loves
he begins to forget.

And his soul is seasoned, his soul
is very professional.
Only his body remains forever
an amateur. It tries and it misses,
gets muddled, doesn't learn a thing,
drunk and blind in its pleasures
and its pains.

He will die as figs die in autumn,
Shriveled and full of himself and sweet,
the leaves growing dry on the ground,
the bare branches pointing to the place
where there's time for everything