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There once lived a little shepherd.
One time he fell asleep in the vale.
The shepherd woke: woe to me!
The sheep were not in the vale.
Woe is me,
Woe and oh
Without my sheep
Where should I go.
The Meeting, Schulz’s only surviving oil painting, obliquely explores a theme he returned to many times in his writing and art, namely, sadomasochism, this time in the context of an encounter between…
Finally, a town. We ride through the shtetl of Tartakuv, Jews, ruins, cleanliness of a Jewish kind, the Jewish race, little stores.
I am still ill, I’ve still not gotten back on…
Some decades ago Jewish badkhonim-actors [jesters] were still a very common phenomenon. Most of the time the badkhn was not only an entertainer improvising rhymes and funny sayings, but also an actor…
Now, when the attention of broad circles of society has been drawn to issues of the Jewish land system, it is especially tempting to recall the distant past of the first Jewish agricultural…
I was the one who began.
“Reb Arye-Leib,” I said to the old man. “Let’s talk about Benya Krik. Let’s talk about his lightning-quick beginning and his terrible end. Three shadows block the path of my…
On the eve of the Sabbath I am always tormented by the dense sorrow of memory. In the past on these evenings, my grandfather’s yellow beard caressed the volumes of Ibn Ezra. My old grandmother, in her…
Do you remember Zhitomir, Vasily? Do you remember the River Teterev, Vasily, and that night in which the Sabbath, the young Sabbath, crept along the sunset crushing the stars with the heel of her red…
The city of N. is built in three rings. First ring: the marketplace at the very center. Second: surrounding the market, the great city proper with its many houses, streets, byways, back…
Day grows darker
And darker.
Mobs are advancing on the town,
Mobs clotted with blood,
Made remorseless by killing children,
Lustfully they advance,
To rip off heads,
Feeble, melancholy heads.
They…