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So since we are in the midst of writing a song,
We will write also about the destruction of the holy community of Kremzir,
Even though this happened five years before,
In the year 1643, on the 9th of…
When I observe a toothless ex-violinist,
with more hair than face, sprawled like Karl Marx
on a park seat or slumped, dead or asleep,
in the central heat of a public library
I think of Uncle Isidore…
…I remember a woman
who sat on the pot where the apples cooked in the cold
basement, her face black from smoke. And here, near this brick
building with a red tile roof, is one of our family, Mausha
V…
“Is it true, dear mother,What grandfather tells us?That a chalice stands in heavenBefore the throne of God?“And with each blow struck usAt the hands of cruel men,Does a tear fall in our chaliceFrom…