Ilya Ehrenburg
Babi Yar

What use are words and what’s a pen,
When on my heart this rock is weighing,
When like a convict’s ball and chain
Another’s burden I’m conveying?
I used to be a city-boy,
And life for me was full of pleasure,
But now in deserts without joy
The graves I dig are all my treasure.
Now every deep ravine I’ve seen,
And home to me is each ravine.
I have become this woman’s cherished —
Whose hand I kissed once years ago —
And yet on earth before I perished
This woman then I did not know.
My dear one! See my scarlet blushes!
And all the kin I cannot count!
Your screams my ears assault in rushes
From every pit their echoes mount.
Our strength we’ll gather, then ascending
With rattling bones we’ll start to knock —
Where breathe, with bread and fragrance blending,
The cities where still people flock.
Turn out the lights. Pull down flags’ dressing.
It isn’t us — ravines are pressing.

Translated by Rupert Moreton