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From the top of a spire’s tower
A ringing’s heard—once. Again.
In the chasms of night and land of snow
A little village sunken low.
Overnight, human isles of rest
Warmed by the straw.
Close with…
Citizen Voli Brener
A Moscow snowy morning, sun-streaked and dry. When it falls on a Sunday, the morning shines with a thousand Moscow sparkles—rejuvenating white lights that charm and shimmer, as if…
When the forest-writer Avraham-Yisroel moved from the woods into the city, he had his own wife, three daughters, and two sons. He also had…