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Poems

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I am one of the countless many Who were commanded by a sign and letter, And so that I will stand by my right To ascend to the Heavens, Frozen-faced soldiers march in lines Holding their flag in impure hands. Lonely for my soul, abandoned from humans I will march silently between their two lines And my feet are bare. And they - each one within himself, for my sake And for my honor - They stand tall and bow deeply To count the number of lashings on my back. I am one of the countless many that watch the sight of a prepared stage Dry wood - for a bonfire, A remembrance of bonfires from the distant past. Cavalries gather in market square My eyes watch the sparks of destruction. Tongues of fire are approaching and coming - A red flame around my forehead, before my eyes, Coming and grabbing my wild Hair

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I want to say Kaddish In the word that says black is black And mourning is mourning, without solace and without a day, And only the night alone will remain, The icy night in my heart, the eternal night without light. To say Kaddish for the summers that were destroyed forever, To the wells that have run dry in heart of a white desert, To extinguished stars that fell from a pure sky Just like flint stones, without any logic: To the death of all tears, Which have not broken the grace of God. (Translated from Yiddish :Avigdor Hameiri)

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44. People live their little lives every day And their great distress Jews pray, repent, They bless, say Hallel, fulfill their obligation. Houses of worship and lecterns stand empty. The synagogue dreams a dream, the Holy Ark To Ne'ilah prayer… An altar, a human altar full of death. The heavens rose upward. and our prayers wonder “Forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement.” Ten days of repentance. The coast is foreign and closed. The altar is open. The dream cries out and crumbles from the lips Shards of broken fate. Sometimes the siren will wail loudly, And no one sees, because my brother will not find rest On the surface of the earth. Alone is sorrow, and the grief is very lonely. Where did we meet, life and me? On the narrow path, where the great snipers appeared,

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Life is near and memory emerges Like the sun pouring down on the grain field. Where did life and I meet? On a narrow path, where time blows the horn, The destruction of nations is dying there. And the riddle of the nations is valid there. … Ten Days of Penance on a foreign shore. Horrible days. The wall is a city of refuge for us. The dispersed there fill our memory. The men in the tower dull our minds. Commemoration. Pray for the souls. The souls of the martyrs Those who were buried and were not buried .– Tens of thousands of martyrs with the Punishment of the Grave and without it. Without any registration. Please remind them where you are and who you are, You. We are who we are, both inside and outside. Please do not separate us on the road. The flame of malice circles over our heads And time blinds our sight with a cruel blow, Please do not delay us in the terrible days of change. To live means to remember. At the end of time we will remember the night. In the terrible days of the change. You.

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52. From the depths! wings to despair black wings, but do not pluck them. And do not count the wounds. Please measure with the measurements you have. They have not proven that they can Measure our endless suffering. Please measure what will not be measured. Please do not console, but do not forget, You are everywhere, at every moment and in every movement. You hear everything before it is even a word. The sun is an open wound, suffocating the sky, And drowns out the sound of our cries. From the depths! Please measure what is neither of this world nor of the world to come. Measured what remained as a stone in the throat And struck the brain with blindness, that burned the eye Which has no tears. From the depths! Under the rock that weighs on the forehead I called you. I will not be able to hear my own scream…

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54. God deserted the night guards. The night is abandoned. Humans hang on the trees Their hands behind their backs. In the desert steppes, men freeze with fingers pressed to the rifle trigger. The sea is torn in two, and from the sky volcanoes fall. There is no redeemer and no healer, The night is abandoned, the day, the world.

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69. The crows are terribly busy They did not herald the arrival of winter. We did not have time to prepare for it with respect, Because hunger marches on both sides of the wall From house to house, from country to country. Fever roses on his cheeks, Upside-down eyes, crooked neck, He walks with long soft steps Without any echo, On wide, open roads, In fear of winter, thieves, tomorrow, Without any echo. Hunger is full of doubts, Full of scaffolds in the market, And wherever you turn hanging together. In the forests in the market square Along the length of the wall Many deaths go without a name, In prison camps, in unclaimed land, There my brothers die, die Without any echo, without any echo.

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Come, my brother, there is no security, the moon turned red like crimson, And the trees wept bitterly on that very day, The sky rained down a hail of stones And the horn swallowed up all that was alive. Come, my brother, God forsook his soul And he is lost and lonely somewhere on the plane, With his hands he locked every gate with a bolt for him Do not show him how he expelled himself, Come, please hold my hand and do not look back. The cities of Sodom and Gomorrah grow with shame Since God has wandered, the whole earth is a tear. Ships wander without a sound And other stars stand completely aside. The Vale of Tears is stormy in a whirlwind of passions. Please hold my hand, brother, and do not try to investigate to know How the wheels turn, and if the mills grind New Vales of Tears, Come, my brother, there's no time to stand still In a storm, when the smoke brings the smell of fire And the world without a guard…

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Sleep, my brother, sleep. The edges of the forest are trampled black And pillars of blackness redden the sky. Hungry herds run without a shepherd, On a galloping white horse hangs a rider without a skull. Green eagle, like grass Screaming a death hymn without cantillation notes. Sleep, my brother, sleep. Sleep and guard the ring. The period is long, and thin is the chain, Guard the ring with eyes closed, There in the market they took off again New flocks of green birds, Sleep, my brother, and guard the ring… Sleep, my child Once upon a time there was a king… Messiah son of David bound in handcuffs The day slowly turns like a fragment of a sharp teardrop Which was swallowed by the night.

[Page 226 Hebrew] [Page 228 Yiddish]

Between Kosow and Kitev. There is a golden well In its deep clear water, I found a sun. At night the mountains turned gray I will give the sun as a gift. And in golden crimson All the roads bloom. I am a lost son, The son of a simple tailor, I wasted the years of my youth To wander in the wind and sail. Now I have found them Now they're forever mine. The light of the roads has darkened And the amazing golden shine.

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Slowly and with a happy soul I walk along a path in the valley. Gray roads - will they understand The great golden light? The bright word on the lips, The golden ray in the hand I am the last of the heralds Of newly discovered land. Between Kosow and Kitev. There is a golden well In its deep clear water, I found a sun.

Original footnote:

1. The poem was translated from Yiddish by Binyamin Tene and published in the book “Poems and Ballads,” Al HaMishmer Publication. Return

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