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I am Mani Leyb, whose name is sung—
In Brownsville, Yehupets, and farther, they know it:
Among cobblers, a splendid cobbler; among
Poetical circles, a splendid poet.
A boy straining over the…
Once this was the heart of Warsaw—this labyrinth of sad narrow streets between tall tenement houses. Now this is a remote place, an ancient tumor on the body of the modern city, where its blood flows…
From other friends—poets, creators,
who are dear to me always,
I step away today,
Feffer,
and turn to you!
The battles still rage
on our literary planet
but it’s time to consider
the creative…