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Ronny Someck - his poetry

 

 

More poems > here

And more poems > here

 

 


 

 

Sonnet for the one who settle for less

 

Hear singer and the composer Chani Dinur sing 'Sonnet for the one who settle for less'.

Poem and illustration Ronny Someck.

 

 


 

 

Not me

 

I did not see the scars on the thighs of the women
Who were raped in Kishinev.
I didn’t pierce the moon on a spear of cypress.
I didn’t change the tire of the jeeps that were trapped
in Bab al-Wa’ad.
I didn’t pity the children in the Kindergarten,
and I didn’t run on the bridge that betrayed Jonathan in this place.
With Yona Wollach I wrote a hymn to the whorehouse of Fanny Hill,
And with Amichai I carried baskets of apples that we bought in old Jerusalem
from the stall of Abu Khalil.
In the wine shop in south Tel Aviv I twisted with Guri the cap on a Jonathan Walker
under the stars, with no excuse we got drunk outside.
With lines of Bialik I showed a few hungry-eyed women
a prostitute sitting in the window, and
the hammer of my great sorrows.
A national poet needs a different hammer that will nail
his feet to the ground
again
and again.

I maintain the right to hover.

Tr: Karen Alkalay-Gut

 

 


 

 

Antalya

 

See the Yinon Muallem Quintet play and sing Ronny Someck's poem ' Antalya'.

Lyrics: Ronny Someck
Music: Yinon Muallem
Arrangement: Orel Oshrat

Yinon Muallem: Oud, Vocal
Sivan Oshrat: Vocal
Orel Oshrat: Piano
Meni Welt: Double Bass
Maayan Doari: Percussion

Recorded live at Alt Studios Israel
Mixed & Mastered at ADA studios Istanbul
Video Clip by: Nadav Ariel
Group Picture by :Rami Zarnegar

Booking: info@simplymusicland.com
Please visit to buy the cd: yinonmuallemquintet.bandcamp.com

 

 


 

 

Tel Aviv at Night

 

Hear Maya Belsitzman & Matan Ephrat sing and play Ronny Someck's poem 'Tel Aviv at Night'.

 

 


 

 

Poème de Bonheur

 

 

 

Poème de Bonheur

Nous sommes posés sur le gâteau
comme des figurines de maries
Quand le couteau tranchera
essayons de rester sur la même tranche

Tr: Michel Eckhard Elial

 

 


 

 

The Mouth

 

 

The Mouth

The mouth is like a stable gate
kicked open by a horse - a word.
"Giddyap," I shout to love,
"Giddyap, giddyap".
And it tosses its mane
bearing on its back a pile of flame
it plundered from wayside bonfires.

Tr: Vivian Eden

 

 


 

 

In front of bird food packages in a Belgium supermarket

 

 

In front of bird food packages in a Belgium supermarket

There are no tweets on this shelf.
Full birds
do not chant.

Tr: Shirly Someck

 

 


 

 

Wordless