Rachel Madar was born in Israel, Upper Galilee; in a Kibbutz. Her father was a holocaust survivor, originally from Slovakia. Her mother was from a 4’th generation Jerusalem family, originally from Kavkaz. Rachel grow up in a village, surrounded by flora and fauna. Now she is living in a small village, Arbel, near the sea of Galilee, The Kinneret Lake.
Rachel Madar has a M.A. degree in Geography & Environment. She has been writing since she was 45 and has published two books of poetry:
- The Poetry of Soil, Poems, Shufra, Tel Aviv, 2013, Hebrew
- Ho Me O Sta, Poems, Iton 77, Tel Aviv, 2016, Hebrew and Translated by Gili Haimovich
Her poems are Eco-poetic along other themes and have been published in magazines (hard copy and digital) in Hebrew. The poem, The Kites’ Catchers, was published in the anthology Salt Boundaries, edited by Malak S. Soufi. On April 2017 she invited Rachel Madar to Rome for the launching of this anthology.
Very early it was,
I trod and shed my dress.
It dragged behind crumbled like exfoliation.
Naked and erect I stood,
in front of the pink Tur’an.
Very early it was,
before Tiberius revealed itself to the sun.
© Translated by Gili Haimovich
Tiberias Looks at the Kinnereth
A street opens an eye
looks ahead and sees:
the water’s scales sways,
shines.
The lake Kinnereth’s scales
are blinking to the street,
hinting
and in return it falls in their trap
today
The same as yesterday.
Kinnereth, also known as the Sea of Galilee
is the largest freshwater lake in Israel. It’s believed
that much of the ministry of Jesus occurred on the shores of it.
© Translated by Gili Haimovich
*
White dune,
virginal folds,
tiny footprints of a skink
and a stormed lily
due to the insects’
wedding night.
© Translated by Gili Haimovich
In Dor Beach
In Dor beach
inside a magical cage.
Do lives there,
a woman named Do.
Do tells them
shell’s stories.
The tired and exhausted
drift to her.
© Translated by Gili Haimovich
The Fig’s State
Upper branches
forks upward to the sky,
Lower ones face downward.
A fig dances like a child
a commend of an olden choreographer
saying “hands up to the sky
and now down to the ground.”
The leaves are disciplined as well,
wearing autumn’s colors.
© Translated by Gili Haimovich
Maritime Romanticism
The great mama sea
called you.
Through salt splinters, breakers
and an everlasting emerald
she called you.
Your body sunk, had no wick there
to hold onto.
You are a fish now
you have a thin skin,
your mother caresses you
and your sister laments.
On the sea line the
storm still doesn’t abate,
how pretty is the emerald,
its everlasting.
© Translated by Gili Haimovich
Bay of Gibraltar
I’m enthusiastic, you cool me down.
I’m a ship in the Bay of Gibraltar.
When we’ll return and I’ll lift my sail,
I’ll cleave my course in you,
you’ll be tall and bright.
The shore’s birds will accompany us and return,
sea birds,
will be waiting in front of the cliffs,
you’ll be short and bleak,
dimness will cover your lips,
your figure will disappear in a cloud.
Steadier than ever, I’ll sway,
at this time, the journey’s time.
© Translated by Gili Haimovich
Published with the permission of Rachel Madar