Sooner and Later

Sooner and Later is one of my most personal and emotionally charged works. Based on lesser-known poems by Leah Goldberg, it explores mortality, creative identity, personal freedom, and love. The piece is structured as a single dramatic arc rather than a sequence of discrete songs, with recurring themes and evolving emotional tension. Two peaks define the form: the central movement, “Seven Days and Seven Nights,” builds from atmospheric, seemingly static polyrhythmic textures into an obsessive, desperate climax; and the final movement begins with a simple, asymmetrical melody that turns into a self-mantra, supported by long-evolving harmony and full ensemble.

Rhythm is central: percussion and drum set are present throughout, with complex, asymmetrical patterns shaping the dramatic energy across the ensemble (as in “The Freedom to Breathe”). The soprano part, though demanding in range and technique, remains deeply melodic and vocally expressive, and the orchestration is colourful but transparent, often offering contrapuntal or contrasting layers. Different sopranos have interpreted the work in strikingly different ways — something I value deeply; the piece invites personalisation, emotional risk and interpretive freedom. Each performer has shaped it differently, and, with all due modesty, audience responses have been among the strongest I have received.

Movements

1. The Distance — I
2. The Freedom to Breathe — Complex, asymmetrical rhythmic patterns shaping dramatic energy across the ensemble.
3. The Distance — II
4. Seven Days and Seven Nights — The central movement. Builds from atmospheric, seemingly static polyrhythmic textures into an obsessive, desperate climax.
5. The Remains of Life — interlude
6. The Remains of Life — The final movement. Begins with a simple, asymmetrical melody that turns into a self-mantra, supported by long-evolving harmony and full ensemble.

Text

Leah Goldberg (לאה גולדברג)

הַמֶּרְחָק שֶׁבֵּינִי וּבֵין זוֹ שֶׁבַּשִּׁיר
כַּמֶּרְחָק בֵּין גּוּפִי וְצִלּוֹ עַל הַקִּיר.
***
הַחֹפֶשׁ הַגָּדוֹל לִנְשֹׁם וְלֶאֱהֹב.
בְּכָל אֲשֶׁר אֶפְנֶה אֶרְאֶה דְּמוּתְךָ מִנֶּגֶד -
בְּצֵל קוֹרַת בֵּיתִי וּבְלֶכְתִּי בָּרְחוֹב,
גַּם בְּשִׂיחַת רֵעִים, גַּם בִּבְדִידוּת חוֹגֶגֶת.
גַּם בִּהְיוֹתְךָ רָחוֹק וְזָר וְסַרְבָנִי,
גַּם בְּשָׁעָה קָרָה וּמִתְנַכֶּרֶת,
אַתָּה תָּמִיד אִתִּי - שָׁבוּי לְזִכְרוֹנִי,
שֶׁלִּי - כְּמוֹ נִגּוּן וְכִתְפִלַּת הַדֶּרֶךְ.
אֲוִיר-פְּסָגוֹת צָלוּל. לֹא דִּין וְלֹא הַפְרֵד.
מָה קַל וּמָה גָּמִישׁ הַצַּעַד הַגָּבוֹהַּ.
וְאֵיךְ יִשָּׂא לִבִּי בָּאֹשֶׁר הֶחָרֵד
חֵרוּת אֲשֶׁר כָּזֹאת, חֵרוּת שֶׁאֵין כָּמוֹהָ!
***
הַמֶּרְחָק שֶׁבֵּינִי וּבֵין זוֹ שֶׁבַּשִּׁיר
כַּמֶּרְחָק בֵּין גּוּפִי וְצִלּוֹ עַל הַקִּיר,
אַךְ אֲנִי אָמוּת וְהִיא תִּשָּׁאֵר,
וְהַיּוֹם לֹא אוּכַל לִסְלֹחַ לָהּ זֹאת.
***
שִׁבְעָה יָמִים חִכִּיתִי לְדִמְעָה שֶׁתִּפֹּל
מִזִּכְרוֹן אֲשֶׁר הָיָה.
וְלֹא נָתַתָּ לִי חֶסֶד-דִּמְעָה אַחֲרוֹן
וְלָכֵן לֹא אָקוּם לִתְחִיָּה.
שִׁבְעָה לֵילוֹת חִכִּיתִי לַחֲלוֹם
שֶׁתַּחְלֹם לְהַחְזִיר אֶת דְּמוּתִי הַדְּווּיָה.
וְלֹא חָלַמְתָּ עָלַי גַּם בַּלַּיְלָה הַשְּׁבִיעִי.
לָכֵן לֹא אָקוּם לִתְחִיָּה.
שִׁבְעָה יָמִים וְשִׁבְעָה לֵילוֹת מֵאָז מוֹתִי
לֹא קָרָאתָ בִּשְׁמִי.
לָמָּה אֵפוֹא אָקוּם לִתְחִיָּה, בִּשְׁבִיל מִי?
***
הָלַכְתִּי אֶל הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה
שֶׁאֵינֶנּוּ נִגְמָר
וּפִתְאוֹם הָיָה בֹּקֶר
וְהַשֶּׁמֶשׁ הֵאִירָה אֶת פְּנֵי הַחַיִּים
שֶׁקִּנְּאוּ בַּמֵּתִים.
***
"שְׁאֵרִית הַחַיִּים" [כָּךְ אָמַר]
"שְׁאֵרִית הַחַיִּים הִיא תְּבוּנָה אוֹ סִכְלוּת
ולָךְ הַבְּרֵרָה".

The distance between me and the poem’s she
is like the distance between my body and its shadow on the wall.
But I’ll die, she’ll remain
and today I cannot forgive her that.
***
The great freedom to breathe and to love.
Wherever I turn, I see your image before me –
In my home’s shadow, and while walking in the street,
In friendly talk too, and in vast loneliness.
Even while you are far and foreign and refusing,
Even in an hour cold and alienating,
You are always with me – captive to my memory,
Mine – like the traveler’s prayer and like a melody.
Translucent hilltop air. No law and no divide.
How agile and light is the high footstep.
But how will my heart bear this frightened happiness
Freedom such as this. Freedom like none other!
***
The distance between me and the poem’s she
is like the distance between my body and its shadow on the wall.
But I’ll die, she’ll remain
and today I cannot forgive her that.
***
I waited seven days for a tear to fall
in memory of what was.
But you did not give me the rites of last-tear
and so I will not rise from the dead.
I waited seven nights for the dream you would dream
to bring back my sorrowful self.
And even on the seventh night you did not dream of me,
so I will not rise from the dead.
In the seven days and seven nights
Since my death you have not called out my name.
Why then should I rise from the dead, for whom?
***
I strode into the night
which is endless
and suddenly it was morning
and the sun lit up the faces of the living
who envied the dead.
***
"The remains of life," he said,
"The remains of life are wisdom or folly -
And the choice is yours."

Translated by Rachel Tzvia Back

Hebrew from כל שירי לאה גולדברג and שארית החיים – שירים רשומים מן העזבון (Sifriat Poalim). English translations by Rachel Tzvia Back: “I waited seven days for a tear to fall” (section 2 of “From the Book of the Dead”) from Lea Goldberg: Selected Poetry & Drama (Toby Press); “The Remains of Life” (sections 1 & 2) and “The distance between me and the poem’s she” (Fragments, section 1) from On the Surface of Silence: The Last Poems of Lea Goldberg (Hebrew Union College Press).

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