For Years I Wallowed
Itzik Manger
1958
For Years I Wallowed
For years I wallowed about in the world,
Now I’m going home to wallow there.
With a pair of shoes and the shirt on my back,
And the stick in my hand that goes with me everywhere.
I’ll not kiss your dust as that great poet did,
Though my heart, like his, is filled with song and grief.
How can I kiss your dust? I am your dust…
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