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The train pulls up to the platform, steaming and boiling like a samovar.
Lazar is standing on the platform—short, glowing, joyful—waving his dirty handkerchief at the cars.
The train is on its way to…
Contributor:
David Khait
Date:
1928
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The heder was in the basement. It was a dark, damp room with a low ceiling. There were two windows on the ground level. In the middle of the room, there was a long wooden table covered…
Contributor:
Doiv Ber Levin
Date:
1932
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. . . An empty street. An unfamiliar shack. A tightly shut gate. And hanging over the gate, over the dead street, over us all—a Cossack cap with a raspberry-colored band. A trail of smoke from an…
Contributor:
Mark Egart
Date:
1933–1934
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[ . . . ] And the Lieutenant-Captain was seriously tired of other people’s passports, of never-ending family names, from Ivanov to Chavchavadze, and of registration.
The barrister has been…
Contributor:
Andrei Sobol
Date:
1923
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“No I say; enough is enough! On their behalf I prayed, for their benefit I cried my eyes out. Enough! I say, no! May I be struck dumb if I will say one more word, not even my name, Gnesye.” She had a…
Contributor:
Rokhl Brokhes
Date:
1922
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Savitsky, the commander of the Sixth Division, rose when he saw me, and I was taken aback by the beauty of his gigantic body. He rose—his breeches purple, his crimson cap cocked to the side, his…
Contributor:
Isaac Babel
Date:
1924
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You, my dear, will survive me and remember.
How could it be otherwise?
—From a letter
Old people? What can you write about old people?
They barely feel anything!
—From a conversation
Contributor:
Dina Kalinovskaya
Date:
1980
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I was the one who began.
“Reb Arye-Leib,” I said to the old man. “Let’s talk about Benya Krik. Let’s talk about his lightning-quick beginning and his terrible end. Three shadows block the path of my…
Contributor:
Isaac Babel
Date:
1923
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A shady incident took place in Moscow a few days before Easter. At noon, in the center of town, they seized an old Jew, poor and wretched, who was carrying a burlap sack on his back and in it the…
Contributor:
Elisheva Bikhovsky
Date:
1923
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On the eve of the Sabbath I am always tormented by the dense sorrow of memory. In the past on these evenings, my grandfather’s yellow beard caressed the volumes of Ibn Ezra. My old grandmother, in her…
Contributor:
Isaac Babel
Date:
1924