Showing Results 1 - 10 of 11
Ay, a lifetime buzzed away . . . what is it, all in all? A dream, a short Friday in winter. . . .
Most people start to philosophize after a savory pot roast and a shot of liquor. Reb Nakhmen the…
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…
How good and agreeable is it, when brothers live in one house, and how much more father and son
Peace to my beloved, dear and darling son, whose soul is bound to my soul, the intimate friend, the…
Would you, mama, believe if I told
That everything here is changed into gold,
That gold is made from iron and blood,
Day and night, from iron and blood?
—My son, from a mother you cannot hide—
A…
Katerine Vrublevska had thick black curly hair, large, dark velvet eyes, a pale, dreamy, longish face and was fifteen years old.
Her classmates described her skin colour as “café au lait.” She knew…
May the Lord who dwells in Zion protect you from any grief and sorrow. To my beloved mother, the crown of my head, the pious Mrs. Rachel, may she live long. [ . . . ] You should know, my dear mom…
I have a son, a little son,
a youngster mighty fine!
and when I look at him I feel
that all the world is mine.
But seldom do I see him when
he’s wide awake and bright.
I always find him sound…
Aunt Feiga is making jam today. She has to hurry. The raspberry season will soon be over. So Aunt Feiga is all in a swivet; she has bought a huge bowl of raspberries and fifteen pounds of sugar and is…
I have a friend, a teacher, with shaggy hair black as pitch.
He has a child (his wife is still a child too)
and when he comes home, difficult and gloomy,
she runs to meet him, like a quivering wave:…
If we should lack nothing else than veils, it would be all right.
May peace and healthy days be your lot always; to you, my much beloved daughter, may you live long, you who are pious and virtuous…