To Rabbi Moses Ibn Ezra on Parting

We know thee, O separation, from the days of youth,
And the river of weeping—that ancient river!
Shall we strive with fate, that hath not sinned,
And with days, though days bear no iniquity?
They run in circles, in a right course,
And naught is perverse nor crooked in the Heights.—
Can this be a new thing, since naught in the world is new,
And since her laws are inscribed by the finger of God?
And how shall her words change, since they all
Are sealed by the ring on the right hand of the Most High?
And every cause is re-found in the circuit,
And every new thing hath been already many times;
And man is united but to be parted again,
To bring forth out of one nation many nations.
For had not the sons of man been divided from of old,
Then would the earth not be filled with peoples.
A thing may be which is both good and evil,
That hath in it both marrow and rottenness for the bones:
If a man wax wrathful he curseth his day,
And denounceth his angered moments;
Yet that is the day that others bless,
The very day they spend in pleasantness.
Moreover, all food in the mouth of the healthy man is like honey,
But honey in the mouth of the sick is like juniper.
And as for him that sorroweth, the lights are dark to his eyes:
He seeth them not—they are hidden from him—
Like mine eyes, on this day when the cloud resteth upon them,
When they pour forth floods at the parting from Moses—
The fount of wisdom, in whose mouth I find
The place of gold, the mine of purest ore.
Friendship bound up my soul with his soul
While the chariots of flight were not yet harnessed,
While as,yet my soul had not adventured upon parting,
And the sons of the days were all with us complete.
The daughters of the days did bear us singly,
But the daughter of love bore us as twins,
In faithfulness, upon a bed of spices,
Sucking the breasts of the daughter of the vineyards.
I remember thee upon the Mountains of
Separation
Which were but yesterday, through thy presence, the Mountains of Spices,
And mine eyelids are tarnished with tears,
And the tears defiled with blood.
I remember thee, and am remembered, in the days
That we passed, and they were like dreams.
Time, the deceiver of all men, hath given me in exchange for thee
Such as have war in their heart and peace in their mouth.
I speak with them, even though I find within their mouth,
In lieu of thy manna, leeks and garlic.
My rage and my wrath is upon those foolish ones
Who are wise in their own eyes,
Who call their falsenesses faiths,
And call my faith superstition;
Who sow and reap their ears of corn
And rejoice in them even though they be blasted.
The exterior of knowledge is as earthenware’
To cover up the innermost pearls;
But torches are mine wherewith to search his chambers,
And to bring forth from his hidden treasuries the gems.
And I cannot rest until the sheaves
Bow down in wisdom to my sheaf.
And when a fool seeketh the secret, I answer him;
What hath a ring of gold to do upon a swine’s snout?
And how, upon a sterile place, should I seek
For my clouds to drop their rains?
And my need from fortune is light and passing,
Like the need of the soul for the body,
Which, in so far as it holdeth her she giveth it life,
But when it wearieth she abandoneth it like an effigy.
The wisdom of his friend.