Among the priests a young Levite
As morning sentinel for long remained
Judean night grew denser over him,
A ruined temple stood in bitter pain.
He spoke: The yellow of the sky is menace
Run, Jews, over Euphrates it is night.
And old men thought: We should not take the blame here.
This joy of Judea, this black and yellow light.
He was with us, as on the riveshore
We draped the Saturday in precious linen
And with a heavy menorah he lit
Jerusalem's night and vapour of nonbeing.
А .B. Карташеву
Среди священников левитом молодым
На страже утренней он долго оставался.
Ночь иудейская сгущалася над ним
И храм разрушенный угрюмо созидался.
Он говорил: небес тревожна желтизна.
Уж над Ефратом ночь, бегите, иереи!
А старцы думали: не наша в том вина;
Се черножелтый свет, се радость иудеи.
Он с нами был,когда по берегу ручья
Мы в драгоценный лен субботу пеленали
И семисвечником тяжелым освещали
Ерусалима ночь и чад небытия.
«Even though I am lying / Under the cold earth, / Oh, my friend! My soul is always / With you, / Always with you! / / I dwell in my grave, / But I have not forgotten. / Love’s maddening longing / In the land of peace and renuncia...»
«How did they kill my grandmother? / This is how they killed my grandmother: / In the morning a tank / Rolled up to the city bank. One hundred and fifty Jews of the town. / Weightless / from a whole year's starvation. / Pale, / with the pangs of death upon them. / Came there, carryin...»
«Burdened with family feelings, I went / To my aunt's place, / to see my uncle, To press my girl cousins to my breast, / Who were so carried away, / as it happened, / By music a...»
«On the pavement / of my trampled soul / the soles of madmen / stamp the prints of rude, crude words. / Where cities / hang / and in the noose of clouds / the towers’ / crooked spires / congeal — / I go / and solitary weep / that cross-roads / crucify / policemen.»