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The narrative of Nehemiah son of Hacaliah:
In the month of Kislev of the twentieth year, when I was in the fortress of Shushan, Hanani, one of my brothers, together with some men of Judah, arrived…
I got up and stepped out of the hotel. The early-morning breeze was moist and cool—pure refreshment after a night of suffering.
Everything seemed reborn, and the small-town, good-natured Cubans…
Open a map, stretch out your index finger, run it along the winding contours of the Plata River, and you will come to a small black dot that does and does not seem like the…
Vilna, my great matriarch, an established Jewish city,
Jerusalem of the Exile, an ancient nation’s consolation in the north!
This [poem] is your patched kerchief, like the roof of the old synagogue,…
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…
A hundred thousand men, women, and children, some of them fugitives still suffering the punishment of Cain, others just sloughing the Ghetto skin, yet others in whose ears the “hep, hep” of the…
See the Mount of Olives and the Greek monastery.
Minarets and cupolas abound,
Squares of yellow houses like honeycomb.
The valley of Josephat, white, dry fields—
There in the dell, where it is…
The Painter had a different personality. A tiny Polish Jew, he was famous as a creator of wonderful whimsical animals. He said:
“For my part I wanted to use stained glass. But the architect says we…