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Had I fastened
The cradle on a rafter,
And rocked it—and rocked it.
My little son, my Yankl.
But the house has vanished
Into a fiery dome,
How then can I rock
My little son, my own?
Had I…
Great was the joy in the mid-1950s in Budapest’s Klauzál Square, in the house of a widow with many children. Those lining up before her vegetable stand in the market saw her smile for the first time…
[A room in early evening shadows. It is the room of a New York suburban working girl.][Time: The early Thirties. A bell strikes eight times, probably from the bell tower of a nearby church. Rosie is…
Household of eight.
Beds are two.
When it gets late,
What do they do?
Three with father,
Three with mother:
Limbs
Over each other.
When it’s night
And they go to bed,
Mother begins
To wish she…