He would go, in his broken-heartedness, into the woods every day, as if he had an appointment to talk for an hour to God, speaking in Yiddish, or maybe not speaking, but only repeating one word, or less than a word, a syllable, a single vowel, a howl, a pure vocalization, from which he expected little result. "Zimzum," God's apartness, or say, His withdrawal, requires drastic, desperate measures, and Rabbi Nachman's keening out in the woods he believed would work like water that can wear away a stone. The stone, he said, is the heart -- not God's, but his own, that little by little he might contrive to soften to open again, soothed, or even healed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THERE IS NO NATURAL RELIGION (A) by WILLIAM BLAKE ALFRED THE HARPER by JOHN STERLING (1806-1844) THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 3. ON WASHING by JOHN ARMSTRONG DEATH'S JEST-BOOK by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE PALACE OF OMARTES by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON FOURTH BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 20 by THOMAS CAMPION OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 7. TROCHAIC VERSE: THE THIRD EPIGRAM by THOMAS CAMPION |