Lekh-lekho
Simkhe-Bunem Shayevitsh
1942
And now Blimele, dear child,
Stop—stop playing now.
No time for that.
We can be called at any minute
To leave our poor home
—A lonely boat on an island of sand—
And be hurled into the midst
Of a naked furious sea.
Outside the first groups already
Are dragging themselves on the trek
Women, men, old people; on their backs
Heavy burdens, in their…
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