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Shortly before Paris was occupied, Maurice had me return to my native Morocco.
My parents—my dear parents whom I loved so much and whom I never saw again—were, alas, dead. The other members of the…
I am only this song that you place on my lips.
I am yours: yours my arms, yours my legs,
Yours my hands, yours my belly, my loins,
Yours my breasts, yours my teeth, yours my lips,
Yours my tongue…
After an absence of many years, I returned to Alsace in November 1856, in response to the invitation of an old friend. During this first and short visit, I was greatly moved in recovering all the…
For my daughter Nedjéand for her husband Armand Bengui.Where word and spirit make feeling divineI see creation and I see poetry . . .But I know I risk the sin of heresyIf I say the words and spirit…
How long did I wander in Caesarea,
That enchanting place where my heart had adored you.
—Racine, Bérénice, I, 4.
I was only a child of the peace, born into a strange postwar. How could I have…
Every day at siesta time, when under the scorching heat of the sun the little town of Kenadza was breathing its last, Madame Karsenty would settle down on the sofa in the living room where her son…
“You come from Poland, Monsieur David . . . ?”
“Davidovich.”
Lévy, his host, looking with desperation at the traveling salesman, supplied the name. Still sweating from fear, Lévy was now sweating for…
My father and mother were left alone and sat down for a moment; then my father said: “Well, shall we go up to bed?”
“As you wish, dear, though I don’t feel in the least like sleeping. I don’t know why…
Meanwhile, the beautiful Saâda wandered the streets of Blidah . . . She continued straight ahead, without purpose or thought.
She went . . . She found Blida banal with its one-story European…
On the Lord’s hills, white with lustrous light,
Far from rich palaces reeking of wine,
Drunk on the night and sidereal sadness,
The King dreams in self-imposed exile.
Below, mid the wheat, the…