Violin in my ribs
Guitar in my heart
Drums in my mind
Yet all out of sync
Guess I need a perfect conductor
But who will be brave enough
To tame such a disordered body?

After My Death
by Chaim Nachman Bialik
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Say this when you eulogize me:
Here was a man — now, ****, he's gone!
He died before his time.
The music of his life suddenly ground to a halt...
Such a pity! There was another song in him, somewhere,
but now it's been lost,
forever.
What a pity! He had a violin,
a living, eloquent soul
to which he uttered
the secrets of his heart,
setting its strings vibrating,
save the one he kept inviolate.
Back and forth his supple fingers twirled;
one string alone remained mesmerized,
yet unheard.
Such a pity!
All his life the string quivered,
quavering silently,
yearning for its song, its mate,
as a heart falters before its departure.
Despite constant delays it waited daily,
mutely beseeching its savior, Love,
who lingered, loitered, tarried incessantly
and never came.
Great was the pain!
There was a man — now, ****, he's gone!
The music of his life was suddenly interrupted.
There was another song in him, somewhere,
but now it is lost
forever.

Chaim Nachman Bialik (1873-1934), first name also Hayim or Haim, was a Jewish Holocaust poet who wrote in Hebrew. Bialik was one of the pioneers of modern Hebrew poetry; he came to be recognized as Israel's national poet and the foremost modern Hebrew poet.

Keywords/Tags: Chaim Nachman Bialik, Hebrew, translation, Israel, life, music, violin, song, string, strings, heart, mate, love, pain, lost, forever

the tempest rages
a storm is all it can be
nature is absolved

Just this short moment
A little moment to yourself

Look at the sky for a moment
A pause in the humdrum of life

And just take a little moment
Like the quarter rest on hold

Cool down the thrumming heart
Relax those tense shoulders

Add a little honey
To the sourness of the situation

As life gives you lemons,
Make lemonade

An old violin
Is seasoned with tears
Hundreds of years
Of playing out loud
Pleasing the crowd
Have soaked right on in
Something strange
In the range
Of an old Violin
It's a reality
They form personality
Their own unique sound
Which can only be found
On that set of strings
And the music gets wings
Beauty and death
Laughter and sin
Are the notes that you play
On an old violin

After a long long time I thought of opening the case
To see the broken bow hanging on the top side,
On the glossy brown body, loose bow strings slide.
Bridge collapsing under the wires is undeniable,
Strings bending to some unknown tune, unrecognizable.

After a long long time I thought of opening the case
Once, it was an instrument of love and affection.
With work, for me to learn and to master.
Over the time the passion is just gone,
Clutching and wondering what went wrong? 

After a long long time I thought of opening the case 
I hugged it tightly and I simply cried.
In a desperate need to rekindle my old flame.
I started to fit together the broken pieces,
I tried to mend the old bearings of neglect.

After a long long time I thought of opening the case 
While wiping down the dust it made me wonder.
Why we let the things we love to fall under?
As we grow old and time passes by,
Things we love the most, always pay the price.

After a long long time I thought of opening the case 
Few things we must hold on to in this life,
No matter if experiences teach you to strife.
I am learning not to forget the things I once loved,
They make you who you are, where you once belonged...