“FOR THEY WILL NOT BELIEVE ME”
Translated from the Yiddish of YEHOASH by HELEN FRANK.
The prophet hesitates:—O God Almighty, Thou bid'st me go to Pithom and to Ramses, And bear Thy word to those who knead the clay, And with the clay have kneaded soul and body, That I shoul tell these poor degenerates, These slave-descended slaves, Of mighty ancstors with eagle eyes And shoulders broad, who strode o'er hill and dale The shepherd's crook in hand, The hunter's bow, (And God and man took pleasure in the sight). That I should speak to them and say: “Behold! An end shall be to kneading of the clay, To straw and bricks and whips And slavish thanks for blows— To toil in Pithom and to rest in Goshen. For all of you are kings, And sprung of priestly stock, And every man of you As good as Pharaoh, A God-anointed prince, And there, beyond the desert, lies a kingdom, A happy kingdom that belongs to you” That I should speak to them once more and say, “No master there nor overseer shall be, No rods to drive you when you faint with heat, No daily tale of bricks To pile with fingers bleeding from the scourge, For each shall be a master to himself And every man his own self-driven slave, And yet more unremittingly shall toil Than when he kneaded Egypt's yellow clay. With empty entrails drag him night and day, And lips that crack with dryness, And see his wife and children pine and die, Nor ask for pity, Nay, nor will to ask, Nor look for wages worth the name, nor sigh For Goshen's seasoned fleshpots as of yore, But go where God commands, Where I, His prophet, leads.” God, whither dost Thou send me? And who among the dwellers in the plain Of Goshen, Lord, will stand and lend an ear? Who barter his accustomed servitude, His wonted shrink and cringe of dog-like fear, For yonder shining vision, tissued all Of threads of light, a dream within a dream, For yonder kingdom beautiful that lies A thousand miles of desert land away?