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From his ivory bed
The king rises at night—
Alone, without guard or escort,
Makes his way to the ancient wall
Climbing to the top of the highest tower.
There, at the window
One can see the dead, gray…
Deep in the woods stands my tent,
No one will discover me,
Late at night and at first dawn,
I hear the revel of the spring
From the deep roots underneath,
To the moss-covered trunks,
From…
With this collection, we intend to launch a particular trend in Yiddish poetry which has recently emerged in the works of a group of Yiddish poets. We have chosen to call it the Introspective Movement…