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For Zishe Landau
Quiet, quiet, no loud talk!
Stand bent over, pale and dark,
Crouched up in a ball of pain,
Shut up—holding your breath in.
Out of the deep night
He’ll ride up on a white horse
Hear…
The fire of joy in solitude. . . And since in vain I have made this journey,The ground giving way to my burning steps,Let me embrace this ardorIn abstract revelry* * *
With his asses, male and female,
His woolly sheep and billy goats,
His oxen and his camels
Bearing wineskins on their backs,
With his wives and his handmaids,
His servants and his…
A calm summer night. On the horizon loom, very black, the famous woods on the tree trunks of which our ancestors are said to have carved a record of the tractates of the Talmud they had…
From the silence of the night I heard a clamor,
Like the clank of chains of bondage, the sound of linked fetters
Jangling each other—
The heavens opened,
And suddenly a great flood of light burst…