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Pantel the wagon driver stretches out under the covers and sits up, yawning. The house is dark but a faint light is just beginning to penetrate through the peepholes in the shutter.
“It’s…
Once upon a time, in the “good old days”—some ten or twenty years ago, let’s say—the people in Shklov still did not know what newspapers really were like. Their sole source of news was a solitary…
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…
Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah, the so-called “Days of Awe” arrived.
There was no Jew in all of Bom Retiro who, God forbid, would ever think of not observing them. Any endeavor, no matter how important…
Jewish graveyard near Leningrad.
Crooked fence of rotten plywood.
Behind the fence lie side by side
lawyers, merchants, musicians, and revolutionaries.
For themselves they were singing.
For…
Scene: A small garret room. A door is set in a deep recess at the back; there is another door at right. It is night. Several small children are bedded on wooden benches, and several more are asleep in…
His strong, coal-black hands crumpling and twisting his faded old hat, the thirty-year-old Adoons said in a quiet but firm voice to his employer, Mr. Waldman, the produce dealer,
“Baas, I’m finishing…
Dress me, good mother, in a glorious robe of many colours, and at dawn lead me to [my] toil.
My land is wrapped in light as in a prayer shawl. The houses stand forth like frontlets; and the roads…
Yesterday, I dumped on my son the following story:
That my father was a cyclops and, of course, had one eye,
That my fifteen brothers wanted to devour me,
So, I barely got myself out of their…
You who live secure
In your warm houses
Who return at evening to find
Hot food and friendly faces:
Consider whether this is a man,
Who labours in the mud
Who knows no peace
Who fights for a crust…