Friends of My Age!

Aharon Kushnirov

1931

Friends of my age,
My happy generation,
We strode, pained-pleased,
Through the wreckage of whole worlds.
Before the living and the dead
fell on our portion
Inherited old skins
of ourselves—and others’ wrappings.
The tracks on our path
are covered with smoke
while our eyes—are bright
with the gleam of those days.
And only for spun silver
in…
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