W e should all be grateful that King David did not have an editor or copyreader — though they perform an invaluable service — when he wrote his Tehillim/Book of Psalms. In particular do I refer to Psalm 130:6 in which David commits what some naifs consider an unpardonable literary sin: He repeats a phrase: “Nafshi laShem mishomrim laboker shomrim laboker” freely translated as: “My soul yearns for the L-rd more than watchmen yearn for the morning yearn for the morning.” The copyreader would scribble a stern note on the manuscript: Honorable King: No need to say twice “yearn for the morning.”
This Psalm 130 has only eight verses and 54 words but they come straight from King David’s heart and deeply penetrate our hearts. Part of its power lies in its cardinal stylistic malefaction — the repetition of that phrase in verse 6. That verse loses much in translation but one must try. This verse has only six words. In its spare lean unadorned Hebrew it says literally: “My soul to the L-rd more than watchmen to the morning more than watchmen to the morning.” In clearer English with inserted words in brackets it says: “My soul [yearns for] the L-rd more than watchmen [yearn for] the morning [yearn for] the morning.”
Translations vary: The Jewish Publication Society ignores the repetition and renders: “My soul waits for the L-rd more than they that watch for the morning expect the morning.” This is fine and serviceable but it transforms the poetry into something prosaic and ordinary. By ignoring the repetition JPS radically reduces its unique power.
ArtScroll is an improvement: “I yearn for my L-rd among those longing for the dawn longing for the dawn.” This retains the doubling and the poignancy of the phrase.
