Day Grows Darker

Leyb Kvitko

1919

Day grows darker
And darker.
Mobs are advancing on the town,
Mobs clotted with blood,
Made remorseless by killing children,
Lustfully they advance,
To rip off heads,
Feeble, melancholy heads.
They are after mine as well,
My head that is so young,
And my heart,
That has cradled in itself the joy of love.
. . . A desolate survivor
Will count the…
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