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We know that a writer has no power except in the pen. Nevertheless there are times when it behooves us to alter the ordinary manner of expression. There are times when the author, too, must depart…
The journal is my life, my companion and my confidant. Without it I would be lost. In it I pour out all my heart’s feelings, until I feel somewhat relieved. When I am angry and…
An elegy to the Jews deported from the Warsaw ghetto from a Jew hiding on the “Aryan” side of the city.
I am in hiding in a loft over a stable, in a village, with good people. The risk of death hovers over me, as it does over all Jews these days, and the slightest lapse of vigilance on my…
He, Meyer, during all the days when they prepared Wanda for the journey (according to regulations, the women had to take along shoes, clothing…
Old Levi turned his face away that was so easily stained by tears. Again, he felt a twinge of longing for his terrestrial home. How strange it was, this longing for a miserable land where one had…
On a wagon, bound for market
There’s a calf with a mournful eye
High above her, there’s a swallow
Winging swiftly through the sky
How the winds are laughing
They laugh with all their might
Laugh…
“Even if you kill us, we will leave traces,” insists the poet. Poems such as this one affirm the power of humanity even in the midst of atrocities committed by neighbors.
(Short Poems in Prose)
And now Blimele, dear child,
Stop—stop playing now.
No time for that.
We can be called at any minute
To leave our poor home
—A lonely boat on an island of sand—
And be hurled into the midst
Of a…