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Oh, Ghingeli, my bleeding heart,
Who is this guy who dreams in snow
And drags his feet like a pair of logs
In the middle of the street at night?
It is the rascal Moyshe-Leyb,
Who will freeze to…
My restlessness is of a wolf, and of a bear my rest,
Riot shouts in me, and boredom listens.
I am not what I want, I am not what I think,
I am the magician and I’m the magic-trick.
I am an ancient…
I am a circus lady
And dance among the daggers
Set in the arena
With their points erect.
My swaying, lissome body
Avoids a death-by-falling,
Touching, barely touching the dagger blades.
Holding…