The Street: A Novel

Yisroel Rabon

1928

13

For two months, enfolded from head to foot in crusted, freezing snow, we lay in the trenches on the Polish–Bolshevik front in White Russia. We lay about sleepily, suffering from fatigue, immobility, lassitude, and inertia. Looking up at the sky, we saw the sun rise day after day; and day after day it went down on the cheerless white snow-and ice…

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