Daf Ditty: Eruvin 92: Hurva: Hymn Among the Ruins

Tiferet Yisrael Synagogue,

also known as the Beit Knesset Nisan Bak, c. 1940

Interior showing raised bimah topped by ornate ironwork,

vintage postcard c. 1900

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An island girl looks on me from the height of her duskiness,
a slim cathedral clothed in light.
A tower of salt, against the green pines of the shore,
the white sails of the boats arise.
Light builds temples on the sea.

Hymn Among the Ruins, A Poem by Octavio Paz

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 An analysis of the opinion of Rav in the case of two ‫חצירות‬
located on two sides of a ‫ חורבה‬in the middle when one ‫ חצר‬set

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up its own Eruv while the other Chatzer did not set up an
Eruv.

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When the Rabbis disagree with Rabbi Shimon, it is only in a case where they established an
eiruv, but in a case where they did not establish an eiruv, the Rabbis concede to Rabbi Meir
that it is all considered one domain and carrying is permitted.

The baraita therefore teaches us that the Rabbis disagree with Rabbi Shimon in both cases, as
they prohibit carrying in the alleyway even if the residents did not establish an eiruv.

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Did Rabbi Yoḥanan actually say this, that the halakha is in accordance with Rabbi Shimon’s
opinion that all courtyards constitute a single domain, even if each courtyard established an
independent eiruv?

But didn’t Rabbi Yoḥanan say that the halakha is in accordance with an unattributed mishna,
and we learned: With regard to a wall between two courtyards, ten handbreadths high and four
handbreadths wide, they establish two eiruvin, one for each courtyard, but they do not establish
one eiruv.

If there was fruit atop the wall, these, the residents of one courtyard, may ascend from here
and eat it, and those, the residents of the other courtyard, may ascend from there and eat it,
provided that they do not take the fruit down from atop the wall to the courtyards. According to

Rabbi Yoḥanan, all the courtyards are considered a single domain. Why may they not bring the
fruit down?

If there are fruits on top of the wall, people from both sides may climb up to eat them, since the
top of the wall is considered to be its own ‫רשות‬, but they may not bring the fruits down into their
‫חצירות‬.

According to ‫ שמעון רבי‬they should be allowed to bring the fruits down from the wall to their ‫חצירות‬

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The Gemara answers: What is the meaning of the word down in this context? It means down to
the houses; however, it is indeed permitted to bring the fruit down to the courtyards. The Gemara
raises a difficulty:

But didn’t Rabbi Ḥiyya explicitly teach in a Tosefta: Provided that neither will this one stand
below in his place in his courtyard and eat, nor will that one stand in his place in his courtyard
and eat?

When the ‫ משנה‬said take things down from the wall, it meant to take things into the house.

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Rav Ashi said to Ravina: No proof can be cited from this baraita of Rabbi Ḥiyya with regard to
the mishna.

If Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi did not explicitly teach it in this manner, from where does his student
Rabbi Ḥiyya know it?

If a halakha is not taught by the mishna itself, it should not be distorted to have it correspond with
a Tosefta.

In the previous ‫ דף‬we also learned that ‫ רב‬disagrees with '‫ר יוחנן‬, and holds that ‫ שמעון רבי‬only
permits carrying items from one ‫ חצר‬to the next on ‫שבת‬, when the two ‫ חצירות‬each did not make an
‫עירוב‬

If, however, each ‫ חצר‬has their own ‫ עירוב‬they may not carry from one ‫ חצר‬to the next.

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Two courtyards and a ruin in between A dispute between R’ Huna and Chiya bar Rav is recorded
regarding two chatzeros, only one of which made an eruv, and a ruin is between them.

According to R’ Huna the ruin is granted to the residents of the chatzer that did not make an
eruv, while according to Chiya bar Rav it is granted to both chatzeros and neither will be
permitted to carry in the ruin.

According to a second version Chiya bar Rav ruled that it is given to both chatzeros and carrying
will be permitted.

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It was stated that amora’im dispute the following case: If there were two courtyards and there
was one ruin between them, and the residents of one courtyard established an eiruv for
themselves, while the residents of the other courtyard did not establish an eiruv for themselves,

Rav Huna said: The Sages confer the right to utilize the ruin to the residents of that courtyard
that did not establish an eiruv; however, to the residents of the courtyard that established an
eiruv, no, they do not confer the right to utilize the ruin. It is prohibited due to a decree, lest people
come to take out vessels from one of the houses to the ruin, which is prohibited, as no eiruv was
established with the ruin itself.

However, this concern does not extend to the courtyard whose residents did not establish an eiruv.

They are not permitted to move objects from their houses to the courtyard, and therefore there is
no reason to issue a decree prohibiting the carrying of objects from the courtyard to the ruin.

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In a case of two ‫חצירות‬, one has an ‫ עירוב‬and the other does not, and there is a ‫– חורבה‬a ruin in
between them, there is a Machlokes as to Rav’s opinion in this matter. – ‫אמר רב הונא נותנין אותה לזו‬
‫שלא עירבה אבל לשעירבה לא‬Rav Huna holds that the ‫ חצר‬which does not have an ‫עירוב‬may carry
things into the ‫ חורבה‬,because without an ‫ עירוב‬they cannot bring things from their houses to the
‫ חצר‬,and there is no concern that they will carry items that started off in their houses into the ‫חורבה‬
.The ‫ חצר‬which does have an ‫ עירוב‬,and they are permitted to carry from their houses to the ‫חצר‬
,may not carry to the ‫ חורבה‬,because they might carry things from their houses to the ‫חורבה‬.

And Ḥiyya bar Rav disagreed with Rav Huna and said: Rights to the ruin are conferred to the
residents of the courtyard that established an eiruv, and consequently, it is prohibited for

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residents of both courtyards to carry objects. And if you say that it should be permitted for
residents of both to move articles to the ruin, that is incorrect.

As if that were so, for what reason did the Sages not confer the right to carry in the courtyard
that did not establish an eiruv, to the residents of the courtyard that established an eiruv?

If there is no cause for concern, it should always be permitted to the residents of a courtyard that
established an eiruv to carry from their courtyard to a different courtyard whose residents did not
establish an eiruv.

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Steinzaltz (OBM) writes:

As we saw on yesterday’s daf, Rabbi Yohanan rules that we follow Rabbi Shimon’s opinion in
the Mishna (89a) even if the residents of each courtyard made their own eiruv, and we are not
concerned that someone will carry from his house into the courtyard, and from there into other
yards or gardens. On our daf, Ravina points out another statement made by Rabbi Yohanan that
seems to stand in contradiction with this one.

Did Rabbi Yohanan actually say this, that the halakha is in accordance with Rabbi Shimon’ s
opinion that all courtyards constitute a single domain, even if each courtyard established an
independent eiruv? But didn’t Rabbi Yohanan say that the halakha is in accordance with an
unattributed mishna, and we learned: With regard to a wall between two courtyards,

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ten handbreadths high and four handbreadths wide, they establish two eiruvin, one for each
courtyard, but they do not establish one eiruv. If there was fruit atop the wall, these, the
residents of one courtyard, may ascend from here and eat it, and those, the residents of the
other courtyard, may ascend from there and eat it, provided that they do not take the
fruit down from atop the wall to the courtyards. According to Rabbi Yohanan, all the courtyards
are considered a single domain. Why may they not bring the fruit down?

Rav Ashi answers that the intention of the Mishna is to forbid carrying the fruit from the top of
the wall into one of the houses. Carrying it into the courtyard, however, would be permitted.

In response to this, Ravina quotes a baraita taught by Rabbi Hiyya that in such a case the
residents of the courtyard can only eat the fruit on top of the wall, and they cannot bring it down
to either courtyard at all. Rav Ashi reacts to this by saying that if Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi did not
explicitly teach it in this manner, how would his student, Rabbi Hiyya derive such information?

We must limit Rav Ashi’s statement to very specific circumstances, because if we accepted it
as a general principle there would be no reason to compare and
contrast Mishnayot and baraitot, which is one of the most basic discussions upon which
the Gemara is based.

What we can say is that when the baraita contradicts the Mishna or reaches a conclusion that
runs counter to the conclusion of the Mishna, we will reject the baraita as being Rabbi Hiyya’s
personal opinion, rather than a reliable tradition.

The rebuilding of cities, especially after World War II, has raised many questions about what role
the past should play in reconstruction. Recently, debates about two knowledge systems of the past,
history and memory, have questioned the nature of each. The French historian, Pierre Nora, has
accused history of suppressing the living memories of cultures especially in the developing world,
but most other critics have assumed the necessity of both: "memory is color, history is line,"
(Wieseltier). This class investigates the idea of memory and some its pertinence to city form.
Architecture and place have old associations with remembering. Classical buildings were actively
used in the mnemonic learning system and in the training of debate: today the continuity and
stability of form in our cities enables us to be nourished even in times of upheaval. The French
sociologist, Maurice Halbwachs who was the first to write about "collective memory", claims that
every collective memory unfolds within a spatial framework and that mental stability is due to the

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fact that objects of our daily life change so little or so regularly. "We may live without
(architecture), we may pray without her, but we cannot remember without her," Ruskin argued. In
the bible, the city of Enoch, built by Cain after his banishment, is nourishment against the "terror
of space", and the philosopher Karsten Harries says that because of man's knowledge of his own
mortality, fixed place and shelter are protection also against the "terror of time". Ruins have been
the remnants of destruction but also places of a curious fascination with the past, as in the English
country ruins built in the 16th century, or in the case of Louis Kahn's designs for the new Hurva
synagogue in Jerusalem where he wished to retain the ruins of the previously destroyed synagogue
as positive aids to memory. Monuments, memorials and museums are our artifacts in the battle
against forgetting, and yet we struggle: "There is nothing in this world as invisible as a monument"
Robert Musil says, as we accept the loss of content over time. Recently memorials have sought to
include elements that can ensure the updating of the remembering experience: as in the Navy and
proposed Air Force memorials and the Holocaust memorial museum in Washington.
There are now a number of accepted building practices which take the past into account. For one,
the present can be made as if it were the past, as in the post-war rebuilding of Warsaw to appear
as it was prior to the war. Or the facades of buildings can be made to appear similar to those of the
past, while the interiors are completely changed, as in the rebuilding of housing in Bologna. Or,
perhaps as the Team X group might have desired, open networks can be made evocative enough
for memories to be achieved in them over time. Or, fragments of old buildings might be retained
as tokens of memory while the overall building function and form is new, as in the cases in Boston
where churches have been converted to apartments or restaurants. Or buildings can be restored
according to a set date in the past while retaining the overall use theme of the past, as in Faneuil
Hall Marketplace in Boston. Or, new tectonics of brick and steel can be used in a new building to
register the memory of Nazi war camps, as in the Washington Holocaust memorial museum. Or
the city can be built in "classical" form, as Krier would prefer, or the city can be made up of the
"permanences" that Rossi advocates. Or the city can be built with allegiance to a multiplicity of
past and present, such as creating a rapid turnover of buildings and places through temporary
events or selective short-term zoning to contrast with longer- term presence: in all, a city where
time is attended to as much as space is.
Fellingham. "To Continue."
Katsavounidou. "Invisible Parentheses: Mapping (out) the City and its Histories."
Halbwachs. The Collective Memory. pp. 128-157.
Lowenthal. The Past is a Foreign Country. Chapter 5, pp. 238-259.
Schama. Landscape and Memory.
Wieseltier. "After Memory."
Yates. The Art of Memory.

Public and Private Domains1

The subdivision of the city into public and private domains around issues of use, ownership,
control and meaning is more complex than it seems. Often advocates of certain preferences, mostly
for increased amounts and quality of public space, conveniently refer to past cities where the
definition of public and private was not the same as now. For one, Hannah Arendt's conception of

1
https://dspace.mit.edu/bitstream/handle/1721.1/90371/4-241j-spring-2004/contents/lecture-notes/lecture22/index.htm

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Greek public life and the agora, where "everything can be seen in public" and which offers a
release from individual subjectivity, speaks to a short period of democracy where women and
slaves could not participate in the rhetoric of the agora. It was not the pristine place as idealized
by Aristotle but a "jumble of crowded downtown streets... where public buildings stood in the
midst of market stalls and taverns." The Roman Forum, a public space not for popular rhetoric but
for grand speech, was symbolically connected and referenced outward to the city and to the empire.
Feudal society lacked the concept of privacy so available in the contemporary world: "any
individual who attempted to remove himself from the close and omnipresent conviviality, to be
alone, to construct his own private enclosure, to cultivate his garden, immediately became an
object of suspicion or admiration". Habermas considers the liberal public sphere of the late 18th
and early 19th centuries to have emerged parallel to that of the bourgeoisie. Sennett tells the story
of private control enabling activity which would not take place in public: in a private coffee bar
close to the docks in London, the site of news and gossip about maritime trade, aristocrats, needing
this kind of information, found it necessary and possible to associate with sailors, something they
would not do in public. Sennett is generally critical of the public domain in the contemporary city,
as obsessions with selfhood diminish the need for public space and intercourse with strangers.
Jackson characterizes the public square now as simply a place of passive enjoyment but Scruton
regards public places important in the city because they force people into the uncertainty and
fluidity of civil society as opposed to the intimacy and security of the private family.

New York's Rockefeller Center is arguably the most successful public open space, other than parks
and gardens, of the past century. Tied into the tight spatial network of Manhattan - it even adds a
road to it - it fits into and enhances the pattern around it. Where there is no powerful enough
informing context, the form of public open space seems quite arbitrary, such as in the case of
Boston's City Hall Plaza, where the form is borrowed from mediaeval precedent. Despite
competitions which have produced visions of morphological and programmatic changes to this
plaza, it remains unable to satisfy either in terms of function or of meaning. Much of the failure of
such attempts are laid at the feet of the suburban and electronic city where putting your body into
public space is unnecessary; the lack of functional need where dense housing does not exist; the
capacity in the capitalist city for citizens to identify psychologically with private artifacts, such as
skyscrapers; the attraction of environments associated with commerce, the book store cum coffee
shop, rather than those associated purely with civic purposes; the sense that the street and
commerce are more attractive as public places: and the replacement of the insecurity and lack of
quality of public space by private facilities, as in the case of new sports facilities. (Sorkin sees
these replacements in the shopping mall as ersatz, controlled and ageographic).
The contemporary city has public and private streets, public law courts with street facades and
private law courts in the comfort of skyscrapers, public post offices in private centers, private and
public schools which, despite Krier, have similar forms. Are privately owned churches public
because they pay no tax, and restaurants, public in use and appearance, private because they do?
Does a citizen who owns part of an army camp or a nuclear plant expect access because of public
ownership? Is the image of an insurance company skyscraper in Boston more significant in the
city than its city hall which the mayor has thought of selling? Who minds if a private restaurant
spills over into public open space in return for the restaurant maintaining the space? Such
agreements and partnerships are part of the multiplicity of palpable and hidden public private
arrangements in cities, and any theory or practice which does not account for them will be
inadequate.

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Arendt. The Human Condition.
Gehl, and Gemzoe. Public Spaces Public Life. pp 78-83.
Lewis. "Rhetoric and the Architecture of Empire in the Athenian Agara."
Scruton. "Public Space and the Classical Vernacular."
Sennett. The Fall of Public Man. Chapter 1.
Sorkin. Variations on a Theme Park. Introduction.
Veyne, ed. A History of Private Life. Vols. 1-5.
Virilio. The Overexposed City.

The Hurva Synagogue in Jerusalem: Twice Destroyed, Thrice Built

Jacob Solomon writes:2

The Hurva synagogue in Jerusalem, Version 3.0

2
https://www.haaretz.com/israel-news/travel/.premium-the-twice-destroyed-hurva-shul-1.5257999

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The Old City of Jerusalem is sacred to three faiths. But in contrast to the Christian Church of the
Holy Sepulchre, and the Muslim mosques Al Aqsa and the Dome of the Rock, throughout the first
62 years of the State of Israel, the Jews had no sky-puncturing iconic place of prayer. On May 27,
1948, Jordanian soldiers forced entry into the side of the 84-year old Hurva synagogue by
detonating a 200-liter barrel of explosives. They came back and blew up the entire synagogue two
days later.

“Hurva” means "destroyed to ruins," and, ironically, that was the unfortunate destiny of the
Ashkenazi place of worship on this site – not once but twice.

The first time was in 1720. Rabbi Judah HeHasid and his 1,500 followers spent three years trekking
from Poland to Jerusalem, in the conviction that their move would hasten the coming of the
Messiah. Only 300 survived the journey and their spiritual leader succumbed to water-poisoning
within a week of arrival.

Underfinanced yet undeterred, his followers set about building the then-only Ashkenazi place of
worship in Jerusalem, by borrowing at exorbitant rates of interest from the local Arabs.

When, 20 years later, it became obvious that the group could not keep up with the payments, the
Arabs burned down the synagogue and expelled the whole Ashkenazi community from Jerusalem.

Belief and bribery

The second wave of Ashkenazi immigrants to build on the site were the better-financed disciples
of the Gaon of Vilna. They constructed the same Turkish-style domed structure as the present
Hurva synagogue, largely with the financial backing of the Rothschilds and Sir Moses Montefiore.

Under the Ottomans, it was not easy to circumvent the stern prohibition of building taller than any
Muslim place of worship. It took a considerable bribe to persuade the authorities to look the other
way as the Hurva synagogue towered over the adjacent mosque.

Fully inaugurated in 1864, this was the largest Jewish place of worship in Jerusalem since the
Second Temple, and its décor and architectural style was meant to represent the best possible in
the current socioreligious circumstances. There were no stained-glass windows, but the dome’s
interior artwork was based on explicit and implied nostalgic and longing themes of Psalm 137:
“By the waters of Babylon”.

Its strict Ashkenazi rites rigorously followed the rulings of the Gaon of Vilna, including the priests’
ascent to the ark to intone the biblical blessing at all morning services, and the cantillation of the
weekly prophetic readings and all Five Megillot from sacred scrolls rather than printed texts.

The third version arises

Destroyed as described in the 1948 War of Independence, various reconstruction plans were
shelved until the new millennium. Finally, followed the ruling of leading Halachist rabbi Shalom
Elyashiv (1910-2012), it was rebuilt to its former design and magnificence.

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Indeed, the keen observer should be able to trace where the original masonry is lovingly
incorporated into the synagogue’s eastern wall.

Today's services are decorous and conventional. Acoustics are excellent, and the ladies’ gallery is
airy and spacious.

The visitor is strongly urged to get the most out of the synagogue by joining one of the excellent
hour-long English guided tours; best to phone ahead and book in advance.

The participant will not only be regaled with insider stories of the synagogue and its neighborhood
– but descend to the ancient ritual baths under the synagogue, which date from the Second Temple
period. They were discovered under the post-1967 statutory privilege given to archaeologists in
the Jewish Quarter, which is that they have the right to investigate the site before building plans
may go ahead.

The tour finishes with a climb to arguably the best 360-degree view of the Old City from the
walkway surround of the synagogue dome.

One of the most impressive synagogues in the ancient Jewish Quarter in the Old
City of Jerusalem was originally built in the 16th century, but was destroyed by the Ottomans.
The synagogue became known as the Hurva, which means The Ruin, because its reconstruction
in the early 19th century was begun and then abandoned. It was finished in the 1850s but the
dome was badly damaged during the battle for Jerusalem in 1948.

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On May 28, 1948, the Palestine Post reported the synagogue had been razed by Arabs.
According to the report, the demolition of the holy place was timed to coincide with King
Abdullah’s pilgrimage to the Temple Mount where he prayed for the welfare of his army.

When Israeli forces recaptured the Old City in June 1967, they found the only thing left of the
Hurva was a single arch.

After the war, there was a debate over whether to rebuild the synagogue or leave it as a war
memorial. No decision was made, and it was not until 2010 that the synagogue was restored to
its former glory. It is now used as a place of worship, study and a tourist site.

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21
Tiferet Yisrael Synagogue

Tiferet Yisrael Synagogue (Hebrew: ‫ ;בית הכנסת תפארת ישראל‬Ashkenazi Hebrew: Tiferes
Yisroel), most often spelled Tiferet Israel, also known as the Nisan Bak Shul, (Yiddish: ‫ניסן ב"ק‬
‫)שול‬, after its co-founder, Nisan Bak. was a prominent synagogue between 1872 and 1948 in
the Jewish Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem.
The synagogue was inaugurated in 1872 by the Ruzhin Hasidim among the members of the Old
Yishuv[citation needed] and was destroyed by the Jordanian Arab Legion on 21 May 1948 during
the Battle for Jerusalem of the 1948 Arab-Israeli War.
The synagogue was left as ruins after the recapture of the Old City in the Six-Day War. In
November 2012 the Jerusalem municipality announced its approval for plans to rebuild the
synagogue. The cornerstone was laid on May 27, 2014

The synagogue was built in the 1860s by the followers of Rabbi Yisrael Friedman of Ruzhin[2] and
his son Rabbi Avrohom Yaakov of Sadigura, and was named "Tiferet Yisrael" after Reb
Yisrael[2] - tiferet means "glory" or "splendour" in Hebrew, and Rabbi Yisrael was famous for
conducting his court with a regal display of gold and wealth. Nevertheless, the strong involvement
of Nissan Bak, led to the widespread use of the name "Nissan Bak synagogue".

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Another tradition, published by a relative of the Bak family, holds that it was named after Yisrael
Bak (Nissan Bak's father), who had a decisive role in the construction of the synagogue.
Although Hasidim had arrived in Jerusalem by 1747, it was only in 1839 that Nissan Bak began
plans for a Hasidic synagogue. Until then they had prayed in small, private locations like Yisrael
Bak's house.

The synagogue in a state of advanced destruction, missing its dome and

suffering a large gaping hole to one of its exterior walls, May 1948

In 1843 Nissan Bak traveled from Jerusalem to visit the Ruzhiner Rebbe in Sadigura. He informed
him that Czar Nikolai I intended to buy a plot of land near the Western Wall with the intention of
building a church and monastery there. The Ruzhiner Rebbe, who was very involved in assisting
the yishuv, gave Bak the task to thwart the Czar's attempt. Bak managed to buy the land from its
Arab owners for an exorbitant sum mere days before the Czar ordered the Russian counsul in
Jerusalem to make the purchase for him. The Czar was forced to buy a different plot of land for a
church, which is known today as the Russian Compound. When Rabbi Friedman died in 1851, his
son, Rabbi Avrohom Yaakov Friedman, the first Rebbe of Sadigura, continued the task of raising
the necessary funds for the project.

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 Preparing for prayer, c.1940
According to Rabbi Menachem Brayer, Nissan Beck (better known as Nisan Bak) was the architect
and contractor of the project. Bak consulted architect Martin Ivanovich Eppinger [de], the very
man who was designing the Russian Compound, which had to be built outside the Old City against
the initial intentions of the Czar due to the efforts of rabbis Bak and Friedman. A study by architect
Faina Milstein concludes that it is likely that Eppinger either fully designed, or at least advised
Nisan Bak on the construction of the synagogue.
Initially the Ottoman authorities refused to grant permission to dig the foundations, and when
permission was eventually granted, the crew discovered a Muslim sheik's grave on the site.
Eventually the Muslim religious judge agreed for the tomb to be moved outside the city walls.
After the foundations had been dug, another setback cropped up. It became apparent that it was
necessary to obtain a building permit from the officials in Turkey who were not keen to grant the
request. Bak, an Austrian national, convinced Franz Joseph I of Austria to intercede, and in 1858
a firman was granted. Over ten years were spent raising funds as the building slowly took shape.

Official stamp, 1872

There is a legend, proven by researcher Tamar Hayardeni to be non-factual and to have emerged
a good 30 years after the end of the synagogue's construction, that in November 1869 Franz
Joseph, en route to the inauguration of the Suez Canal, made a visit to Jerusalem. Included in his
itinerary was a tour of the Jewish institutions of the city. When he toured the Old City with Bak and
others, he asked why the synagogue was standing without a roof. Bak quipped, "Why, the
synagogue took off its hat in honour of Your Majesty!" The Kaiser smiled and replied, "I hope the

24
roof will be built soon", and left the Austrian counsel with 1,000 French francs for the dome's
construction. From then on, the dome was referred to by locals as "Franz Joseph's cap".
The three-story synagogue was inaugurated on 19 August 1872, 29 years after the land had been
purchased. For the next 75 years, it served as the centre for the Hasidic community in the city. It
was considered one of the most beautiful synagogues of Jerusalem, with a commanding view of
the Temple Mount, ornate decorations, and beautiful silver objects donated by Hasidim.

Hymn Among the Ruins

A Poem by Octavio Paz translated by W.C.W.

Where foams the Sicilian Sea…

Góngora

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Self crowned the day displays its plumage.
A shout tall and yellow,
impartial and beneficent,
a hot geyser into the middle sky!
Appearances are beautiful in this their momentary truth.
The sea mounts the coast,
clings between the rocks, a dazzling spider;
the livid wound on the mountain glistens;
a handful of goats becomes a flock of stones;
the sun lays its gold egg upon the sea.
All is god.
A broken statue,
columns gnawed by the light,
ruins alive in a world of death in life!

Night falls on Teotihuacán.

On top of the pyramid the boys are smoking marijuana,
harsh guitars sound,
What weed, what living waters will give life to us,
where shall we unearth the word,
the relations that govern hymn and speech,
the dance, the city and the measuring scales?
The song of Mexico explodes in a curse,
a colored star that is extinguished,
a stone that blocks our doors of contact.
Earth tastes of rotten earth.

Eyes see, hands touch.

Here a few things suffice:
prickly pear, coral and thorny planet,
the hooded figs,
grapes that taste of the resurrection,
clams, stubborn maidenheads,
salt, cheese, wine, the sun’s bread.

An island girl looks on me from the height of her duskiness,

a slim cathedral clothed in light.
A tower of salt, against the green pines of the shore,
the white sails of the boats arise.
Light builds temples on the sea.

New York, London, Moscow.

Shadow covers the plain with its phantom ivy,
with its swaying and feverish vegetation,

26
its mousy fur, its rats swarm.
Now and then an anemic sun shivers,
Propping himself on mounts that yesterday were cities,
Polyphemus yawns.
Below, among the pits, a herd of men dragging along,
Until lately people considered them unclean animals.

To see, to touch each day’s lovely forms.

The light throbs, all darties and wings.
The wine-stain on the tablecloth smells of blood.
As the coral thrusts branches into the water
I stretch my senses to this living hour:
the moment fulfills itself in a yellow harmony.
Midday, ear of wheat heavy with minutes,
eternity’s brimming cup.

My thoughts are split, meander, grow entangled,

start again,
and finally lose headway, endless rivers,
delta of blood beneath an unwinking sun.
And must everything end in this spatter of stagnant water?

Day, round day,

shining orange with four-and-twenty bars,
all one single yellow sweetness!
Mind embodies in forms,
the two hostile become one,
the conscience-mirror liquifies,
once more a fountain of legends:
man, tree of images,
words which are flowers become fruits which are deeds.

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