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An old Jew asked me near the Jaffa Gate:
“Is the Saxon Garden still there? The same as ever?
Is there a fountain? At the entrance from Czysta Street
In the old days confectioners had a shop there…
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…
With zeal and zest I threw myself into the work to help assemble archive materials. I was entrusted to be the custodian, I hid the material. Besides me, no one knew. I confided only in my friend Hersh…
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…
Trees cry for rain
And mountains for air.
So cry my eyes
For you, dear Mother;
So cry my eyes
For you, dear Mother.
I turn and I ask what will become of me.
In Polish lands
I am destined to die.
…
A baby that has fallen from a high place and become mute, his mother should take his hand and place it in her womb and afterwards thrust that hand into the mouth of the baby. After that, the woman…
(Short Poems in Prose)