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Where will you camp, O my ibex, for whom I yearn?
Where will you drip the droplets of your wine and your dew—O formidable one?
If you bring up your beauty to heaven on high,
You will dim…
He never mentions it by name. It might have been Trebibor or Majdawitz, Soblinka or Birkenhausen. He talks about “the camp,” as if there had been just one.
“After the war,” he says, “I saw a film…
This wonder, this marvel,
which the deceitful fantasy
Basilisk or Asp believes it to be,
is an error of understanding:
Since if one considers it carefully,
the Divine Providence
is rewarding your…