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The whole day
In the roads’ realm
The whole day
Facing only wind
Just a narrow ditch between road and shoulder
Just young lids between sun and eye
What in the world
Can be more beautiful?
Translated…
“Meanwhile months and years disappeared. At twenty-eight I was still without a husband, still an eligible virgin . . . It was spring—free, warm. My heart ached so, I thought I’d go crazy . . . the…
Mordkhe Spektor [1858–1925] was the “honorary chair” of the “Society of Gluttons and Drunkards.” Though he had not been elected to this “post,” everyone felt that Spektor was the singular candidate…
On Saturdays, and on unusually busy days when my father could not take the time to come home to the noon dinner, it became my duty to take his midday meal down to him, very carefully packed in a large…
On this ancient trunk
With hanging branches, gray flax
I’m a young branch.
To grow: my sole passion.
Green shoot
rising
high
to the bright,
I’ll bring red blossoms
to argue:
World, I’m right!
From…
Yom Kippur, when the narrow alleys of the shulhoyf
cradle the small shtibls, pious and scared,
householders hurry with their taleisim
and old men shuffle along in their socks—
I feel the narrow…
[ . . . ]
I never loved properly . . .
A little Judaic boy,
I was the only one around
To shiver in the steppe wind at night.
Like a sleepwalker, I walked along tram tracks
To silent summer cottages…
In ascetic silence, in stony skirts,
God’s handmaid falls on her face—
Flash of an empty night, a forlorn desert waste,
Shards of sunset upon the rocks.
This land. Trodden, just like this, by a…
Dark, bolted room.
Thick air soaked with fear and danger.
Fabius Lind—eye to eye
With a bewildering woman.
Fabius Lind is small and trembling,
The woman is big and growing—and pouring out
Odors of a…
Fabius Lind clings to the flowing mane
Of young spring,
Galloping on the free highways of desire.
Voluptuous desert-winds around him,
Voluptuous desert-winds inside him.
Fabius Lind surrenders to…