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My steps are set down stiffly
on tired, empty paths.
This morning a little town of Jews
called me “Anti-Semite!”
All of them in wrinkles and in rags
out there pointing at me:
“Him! That guy! We…
Morning flew by in the usual way,
Up and down streets, it raced,
Unwinding the spring of an ongoing watch
That the night would wind up again.
A coat was fastened over the chest
With a clasp and a…
Like every shtetl Medzibosz has a main street, and side streets and back streets. Nowadays the old hunched little huts have mostly vanished, and there are new houses in their place—not everywhere.
Thi…
Anyone arriving from Western Europe by steamship to Mohilev for the first time will be struck on the dock by nothing as much as by the enormous throng of…
A Jewish Tailor is one of Mark Antokolski’s earliest sculptures, created while he was still a student at the St. Petersburg Academy of Arts. The work appeared in an era of liberalization of tsarist…
Shterenberg is famous for a series of paintings he did in 1917 and 1918, which are sometimes known as “hungry still lives.” A single object, such as a herring or a loaf of bread, is the focus of the…
. . . An empty street. An unfamiliar shack. A tightly shut gate. And hanging over the gate, over the dead street, over us all—a Cossack cap with a raspberry-colored band. A trail of smoke from an…
Pass on, pass on, you lonely grandfathers,
With frightened beards covered with snow,
In the last sorrow, in the final grief
You’re still here, the final witnesses.
Pass on, pass on, you lonely…
Nahum Luboschez may have left the United States for Europe to escape the law, because of his ties to the anarchist movement. He spent time in Russia, documenting political demonstrations, poverty, and…
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…