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Mordecai walked home from the village on the path that bordered the forest. All the talk of the elders in the village chief’s house had intoxicated him more than the strongest whiskey. Under his…
Once there was a stroke of misfortune.
The day it happened, Mother couldn’t stop cursing this wretched life. Something occurred that almost caused Father to hang himself out of pure shame. After that…
our lightless awful days are passing
splinters of memories prick our brains
daily our Creator beats us using both hands
we are his dry weeds husked to the core
for us fire is no fire for us it is…
Michael began to visit that house.
At first he did so only occasionally, but later he began to come every day, in the afternoon or early evening. At first, he intended to arrive just when…
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…
The terrace of the large coffee house in Berlin was almost empty, save for the occasional occupied table. The season had already turned autumnal. The weather was unpredictable, and the air carried a…
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…
The women of our family will come to me in dreams at night and say:
Modestly we carried a pure blood across generations,
Bringing it to you like well-guarded wine from the kosher
Cellars of our…
When the cool, colorful, gentile Sundays come,
both sit—Valenti, the watchman from my courtyard
and his pock-marked, redmouthed, piggish old lady
back-to-back on a wooden bench.
Both of them gaze…
My childhood, if we’re speaking of relations at home, was exceptionally easy; I never felt a need to rebel against my parents’ conservatism. I encountered no gates to break through—they were all…