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How does it look, the yellow patch
With a red or black Star-of-David
On the arm of a Jew in Naziland—
Against the white ground of a December snow?
How would it look, a yellow patch
With a red or…
Snow has fallen, with no light. A month
has gone by now or two, since autumn in its monkish cowl
brought tidings my way, a leaf from Ukrainian slopes:
“Remember it’s wintry here too, for the…
Trees cry for rain
And mountains for air.
So cry my eyes
For you, dear Mother;
So cry my eyes
For you, dear Mother.
I turn and I ask what will become of me.
In Polish lands
I am destined to die.
…
Dedicated to my friend Ignacio Móntes de Oca.
Why, if summer strips the garden
Of flowers and verdant foliage,
Does Spring so generously restore
Lush greenery, soft flowers,
And brilliant color;
An…
Hear the word of the Lord,
O people of Israel!
For the Lord has a case
Against the inhabitants of this land,
Because there is no honesty and no goodness
And no obedience to God in the land.
[False]…
A prayer of the prophet Habakkuk. In the mode of Shigionoth.
O Lord! I have learned of Your renown;
I am awed, O Lord, by Your deeds.
Renew them in these years,
Oh, make them known in these years!…
Thus said the Lord:
Cursed is he who trusts in man,
Who makes mere flesh his strength,
And turns his thoughts from the Lord.
He shall be like a bushin the desert,
Which does not sense the coming…
To the wheel that turns the river’s waters
And brings them upward from the flowing deep,
I sing this song, a song to banish sorrow.
For all who love and cherish and desire
The ways of poetry and…
A fountain surges from my verse’s house.
Its flowing waters quench the thirst of men—
A fountain from the rock of perfect rhyme,
With waters cold to please the yearning man—
A flow unending…
I know a forest and in that forest
I know a hidden pool:
In the denseness of the wood, isolated from the world,
In the shades of a lofty oak, blessed by light and accustomed to storm,
Alone she…