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The towering life of the towering city
Is burning in white fires.
And in the streets of the Jewish East side
The whiteness of the fires burns even whiter.
I like to stroll in the burning frenzy of…
The slow and green river that winds throughthe blanched street of the Jewish Quarterkept watch over your agony.From my old tableI used to see himapproach your windows withrestless eyes. And as he…
My feet walk the streets of this blessed city,
Only yesterday full of faithful adherents of Sinai.
My eyes do not have the courage to look up.
The bitterness of my soul is great, O Holy God!
I…
After a long stay in the city, I was glad to go out, to travel as far as the Sharon, full of eagerness for fields, colors, green light. But to my misfortune, I fell into a crowded bus, crammed…
The Avenida de Mayo
glows with a virginal light beneath the Sabbath sky.
That light strikes
the window pane that displays your portrait:
Laban amidst a flock of gaily colored lottery
tickets, green…
For H. Leyvik
New York.
A white poet stood on the hundred-and-fourth floor.
The sky and an iron city
Engaged in a conversation.
A thirsty “forever” marched on
In bewildered
Disorganization.
New York…
This is a book about East European Jews in crisis, challenge, and creativity from the end of the eighteenth century until their cataclysmic destruction in the Second World War.
In the sixteenth…
The Painter had a different personality. A tiny Polish Jew, he was famous as a creator of wonderful whimsical animals. He said:
“For my part I wanted to use stained glass. But the architect says we…
My grandfather, like so many others, came to Canada by steerage from Poland in 1900 and settled down not far from Main Street in what was to become a ghetto. Here, as in the real America, the…
I run on the bridge
and the children follow
Yonatan
Yonatan they call
a little blood
just a little blood to finish up the honey
I’d let them pierce me with tacks
but the children want
and they are…