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Year after year, that cruel monster in the heart
growing, sense of guardedness expanding.
Year after year—generations’ blessing
gouged like a needle into the body.
I have wrenched it with irons…
From Kiev I took a wagon heading for Zhitomir. Few of my readers will still remember the long coach wagons in which the past generation traveled before the railroads…
This is how things go with your average Jew. But Hershele is not your average Jew. It wasn’t by chance that he was famous in all of Ostropol, in all of Berdichev, and in all of Vilyuisk.
Hershele…
A visitor came to the shtetl,
A stranger, with unrest in his step . . .
No-one recognized his unrest. No-one asked him:
“Stranger, are you weary?”
Across the blue sky the evening drew its curtain…