Spree Poem by Dom Moraes
Spree
[For Yosl Bergner]
Tonight I see your blue protuberant eyes
Following your angry wife, who sweeps away,
With their perpetual look of mild surprise.
‘Nu, have another drink for luck,' you say
I settle back to let your swift talk flow
Freer with drink through the small hours till day
Reddens the bottles in your studio,
While, still unchecked, a rapid spate of words
Explains some brush-technique I did not know.
A Polish boy, you took cadaverous birds,
Perched in a burnt-out Europe, for your text,
Then came here, but kept sympathy towards
Creatures with wings, for you chose angels next,
Though different from those flaming ones that flew
Into the Bible: yours are too perplexed
Even to fly, waifs without work to do.
Yudl reproved you once, in the Cassit:
‘Your angels are not Israelis, Jew.'
No: but they are the images we meet
In every mirror: so I understand
Those helpless angels waiting in the street
For somebody to take them by the hand.
Still, hangovers won't await, so now we walk
Past herons down the beach towards liquor land.
There's not much left to talk of: but you talk,
Waving both arms, eccentric, Yiddish, free,
In your new home where tall winged creatures stalk
Between the ancient mountains and the sea.
moraes is another poet i haven't read before, but i relate and appreciate the conversational tone, slice of life, the culture represented in it. don't know yosl bergner either, so i'll have to look him up. what the poem brings to mind is the work, paintings and stained glass, of marc chagall, one of my all-time favorites. -gk
(2) I would like to quote a few lines from the poem: Those helpless angels waiting in the street For somebody to take them by the hand. There's not much left to talk of: but you talk, Waving both arms, eccentric, Yiddish, free
I'm mighty glad that I have spotted this lively composition by Dom Moraes who is regarded as one of the pioneers of English writing in India. This poem presents a very sad picture of Jewish society who had struggled for more than two thousand years for their own homeland.
Those helpless angels waiting in the street For somebody to take them by the hand. Still, hangovers won't await, so now we walk Past herons down the beach towards liquor land.../// beautiful poem penned; beautiful expression; greatly I enjoyed
Waving both arms, eccentric, Yiddish, free, In your new home where tall winged creatures stalk Between the ancient mountains and the sea................Most deserving as the Modern Poem of The Day. CONGRATULATIONS! Brilliant poem, excellently worded. Thanks for sharing.
but you talk, Waving both arms, eccentric, Yiddish, free, In your new home where tall winged creatures stalk Between the ancient mountains and the sea. very fine poem. tony
A touching inscription has been made. It is justified for being selected this poem as the morden poem of the poem of the day.
Date, late, skate, mate! ! A rapid spate of words! ! ! ! ! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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11/14/2025 1:23:03 PM # 1.0.0
Once i got past the first four lines- which are easy to stumble over- I enjoyed this poem and probably understood it. Especially liked the line about the angels; overall, the expression of closeness or camaraderie with his friend touched me deeply.