Israel Is A Fulfilled Dream. Nothing That

I Wrote A Novel About Israelis Who Live Their Own Lives On The Slope Of A Volcano. Near A Volcano One Still Falls In Love, One Still Gets Jealous, One Still Wants A Promotion, One Still Gossips.

Israel Is A Fulfillment, And As A Fulfillment, It Is Flawed. Dreams Fulfilled Are Imperfect. And, Israel Is Imperfect, Of Course It Is - A Far Cry From The Monumental Dreams Of The Founding Fathers. One Of The Reasons Is That Their Dreams Were Unrealistic. They Were Bigger Than Life. These Were Messianic Dreams, Dreams About Total Redemption For The Jews, For The World. Such Dreams Do Not Come True, Not In Their Entirety.

Of Course My Books Are Translated Into Many Languages. I Have Here, In My Home, Translations On My Shelf Of My Books Into Forty-five Different Languages. Almost None Of Them I Can Read. I Can Read Only The English Editions. But, I Know That A Translation Of A Work Of Literature Is Like Playing A Violin Concerto On The Piano. You Can Do This. You Can Do This Very Successfully On One Strict Condition: Never Try To Force The Piano To Produce The Sounds Of The Violin. This Will Be Grotesque. So, Different Musical Instruments Provide For Different Music.

When People Have Peace, They Hate It And Long For Excitement, And When They Have Excitement, They Want Peace.

There Are Certain Concepts, Which Exist In English, And Are Unthinkable, Untranslatable Into Hebrew And Vice Versa. Hebrew Has A System Of Tenses, Which Is, In A Big Way, Different From The English System Of Tenses, Probably Different Than Any European System Of Tenses, Which Means A Different Sense Of Reality, Which Means A Different Concept Of Time. So, Things Can Be Translated, But They Become Different.