Elegy for the Soviet Yiddish Writers

Chaim Grade

1960

I

I weep for you with all the letters of the alphabet
that made your hopeful songs. I saw how reason spent
itself in vain for hope, how you strove against regret—
and all the while your hearts were rent
to bits, like ragged prayer books. Wanderer, I slept
in your beds, knew you as liberal hosts;
yet every night heard sighs of ancient ghosts:
Jews…
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