T. Carmi: Awakening (From Hebrew)

The Hebrew verbal-endings and pronoun-clitics make it clear that the speaker is male and the addressee is female. It is a love poem, but not a typical one.
The central allusion here is to a passage from the Zohar, where Rabbi Hiyya comes to visit Rabbi Simeon ben Yohai. As he passed the window, he saw a fiery dividing inside the house, with the Shekhina on one side of the curtain (the Shekhina is the sacred numinous, ineffable feminine aspect of the divine, said to envelop scholars with fire when they study) and Rabbi Simeon ben Yohai on the other. They were studying Torah that way, and Rabbi Simeon’s countenance was aflame with the intoxication of the Torah. Rabbi Hiyya was so electrified by this sight that he could not even knock on the door. All at once the door opened, and Rabbi Hiyya looked inside. As he did, he glimpsed the face of the Shekhina. And he lowered his eyes and stood frozen in place. When Simeon ben Yohai saw that Rabbi Hiyya had been struck dumb, he said to his son, Rabbi Eleazar: "Rise, pass your hand over his mouth, for he is not accustomed to this" Eleazar did this, and at last Rabbi Hiyya recovered his senses, "for it is good to be aflame in the golden fire that burns." 
What is interesting is that Eleazar was told to pass his hand over Rabbi Hiyya's mouth and not his eyes, which would have been the more logical choice, given the bright light. 

By T. Carmi
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Come pass your hand across my lips. 
For I am not accustomed to this light. 

Our love is batlike, beats about the dark. 
It does not miss its mark. Your face defines
My hands to me. What shall I learn in light? 
Rise, pass your hand across me.

Your childhood (what's the time?) was in my arms asleep.
It's ten o'clock between the sea and night,
Midnight between us, seven between the dawn-slit blinds.
Oh no, I'm not accustomed to this light

That comes to open up my eyes like cold 
Eyelets. On the gunsights' scales I'll weigh
My blind gaze and the terror of your clay.
Rise, pass your hand through me.

Face to face, will I still have a face?
Perhaps I'll speak. Perhaps I will stay quiet. 
Come pass your hand across my lips. 
For I am not accustomed to this light. 

The Original:

ט. כרמי

בואי, העבירי את ידך על פי.
אני איני רגיל באור הזה.

עטלפית אהבתנו, סחור ואפלות.
ולא תחתיא. פנײך מסבירות לי
את ידי. מה אבין באור?
קומי, העבירי את ידך עלי. 

שנתי (מה השעה?) חבקה את ילדותך.
עשר בין ים ללילה, חצות ביני
לבינך, שבע בין חרכי– השחר.
הו לא, איני רגיל באור הזה

הבא לפקוח את עיניי כחרירים
קרים. במאזני–הכוונת אשקול
את עברוני ופחד–עפרך.
קומי, העבירי בי ידך.

פניםאלפנים, האם עוד יהיו לי?
אני עלול לשתוק, או לדבר.
בואי, העבירי את ידך על פי.
אני איני רגיל באור הזה.

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