Category: Chaim Semiatitski (Khayim Semiatitsky)
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Warsaw
The yoke is upon you, city, / forged to your stony shoulders, / for you’re hitched to hundreds of cities / and a violent con, a flogger, holds the reins.
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At the Tips of Trees
At the tips of trees, days die, / at the tips of trees, magnificent dawns arise – / I am also a tree – and it will be the same for me.
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Warding Off the Evil Eye Talk (Folk Style)
Two gals sitting on a mossy stone / gab about God, grass, and the marvel of horseradish root / which in winter hides with the worm deep in the ground / until it detects the thunder’s sound.
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From the Cycle: Who Knows From Whence My Poem
The linden shelters the twilight / like a leaf among its branches, / its flower enfolding the night in a bud / till dawn
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It’s This Night
It’s this night and this book and this poem I read / while being birthed, this night had heard my first scream
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In My Shabby Home
In my shabby home my kingdom blooms. / Daily at the window dawn arrives / with a tiding that the sky is now clad in blue.
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Evening by the River
Evening arrives at / the river’s shore in rose slippers / tells the white geese to go to sleep / and corrals a herd of stars / to bathe in the river.
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Night Songs
The night – a hungry dark dog – / as licked the red blood of the west / and quietly laid down on the earth / three crows stand on my roof and curse; / one pecks at my heart, / the heart has bloodied my way now dogs lick at my ways