I don't disturb, I do not sing
With a woman's poison. Hand
That is loyal I give to you —
Right one, that will hold the pen.
That, with which I form the cross
In the beauty of the night.
That, with which the things that God
Did command to me I write.
My left hand is daring,
Flattering and also sly.
Here to you the righteous
And right hand do proffer I.
Не смущаю, не пою
Женскою отравою.
Руку верную даю —
Пишущую, правую.
Той, которою крещу
На ночь — ненаглядную
Той, которою пишу
То, что Богом задано.
Левая — она дерзка,
Льстивая, лукавая.
Вот тебе моя рука —
Праведная, правая!
«How did they kill my grandmother? / I’ll tell you how they killed her. / On morning a tank rolled up to / a building where / one hundred and fifty Jews of our town who, / weightless / from a year’s starvation, / and white / with the knowledge of death, / were gatheredholding th...»
«The gentleman swayed and dozed in his cabin, swaying / to the right, to the left, and back again. / He swayed alone, restless. / He swayed away from life and what he’d lived. / My friend, you are on your way as well, / but where will we be bound tomorrow? / Believe me: these feeble fac...»
«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...»
«Today I was watching as, heavy, your tears they were tumbling, / Upon the black chiffon for ages they glistened and lay, / And how I then wanted to tell you, in spite of my mumbling, / About the white roses that blossom on bush’s green sway. I know that you cannot but beautifully weep on yo...»