Coffee and Poetry (nablopomo day#18)

This morning I did something wonderful, that I rarely, if ever do: go out with friends for coffee and shmoozing. Today I was invited out by a friend to Starbuck's for a coffee-and-Yiddish-and-Hebrew-Poetry-reading-and-explicating-treat. Does that sound boring to you? It might, to some, but not to me. Although these days I rarely read poetry, which I love (and on which I grew up). I used to read, and even dabbled a little in poetry writing (my poems weren't very good).

My father (alav hashalom*) was a Hebrew scholar, teacher and poet, and published one thin little book of poetry, after having published many poems and articles in Hebrew newspapers and literary magazines (many now defunct) such as Ma'ariv, Bitzaron, and Niv (the latter which he founded many years ago) . He also translated poetry by the American and British masters to Hebrew, as well as Shakespeare's Measure for Measure (מידה במידה ).

My friend (-mefuzeret le-gamrei*, somewhat like me--but a wonderful person and a great intellectual with a Ph.D.) forgot her Yiddish poetry book and brought her English translations of the poetry in error; but I brought my father's book, and so we read Hebrew poetry, originals and also his translations of some of the great American poets, such as Robert Frost, Edward Arlington Robinson, etc.

We discussed the beauty of the words, so true to the originals--and the meter as well. It brought back fond memories of the literary and intellectual evenings I remember from my childhood, when I was growing up in my parents' literary house. We used to have soirees, where poets, writers, artists came over and discussed Great Art and Literature, in English, Yiddish and Hebrew--just as in the old days of those socialist evenings in Europe.

I miss those days. My friend and I decided that we are going to try to meet weekly and continue the poetry readings. At least, that is something. . .


*alav hashalom: may he rest in peace
*mefuzeret le-gamrei: totally disorganized

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