LITHUANIAN QUARTERLY JOURNAL OF ARTS AND SCIENCES
Volume 47, No. 4 - Winter 2001
Editor of this issue: M. Gražina Slavėnas
Copyright © 2001 LITUANUS Foundation, Inc.
IN A FORMER GHETTO ALLEY
Translated by M. Gražina Slavėnas
In wind and sun,
white wash hung out between the
pale stone walls of a former ghetto alley
resembles small white sails floating from
the sea of the dead into the light of noon.
Perhaps you were born too late.
In the pine grove,
under a blanket of sand, bone cradles bone.
At a baby's head sleeps its last lullaby...
Only in nightmares rattle the unassembled shards.
And someone wakes up in horror
In a former ghetto alley,
the morning dew evaporates under windowsills.
For the hundredth time a grandmother tells
her grandson the tale of the tailor and the
stingy rich man. Perhaps it is still too soon for him
to know about those who were led away.
About the candle, yellow,
bleeding in the scorching sand...
Gently, gently, I will pick it up
from the weeping ground
toward the midday heat,
* * *
My mother is silent.
A bird sits on her shoulder.
The sand dunes
Brush against her Bible robe.
My mother's name
Bears the sign of fate.
My mother's face
Lies in the star-studded ground.
My mother's sky
Is the color of lilac.
My mother's hands
Are above my head.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .