<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space;" class="">Thank you, Nora!<br class=""><div><blockquote type="cite" class=""><div class="">On Apr 3, 2017, at 6:49 AM, Larry Robinson <<a href="mailto:Lrobpoet@sonic.net" class="">Lrobpoet@sonic.net</a>> wrote:</div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"><div class=""><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html charset=utf-8" class=""><div style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div class="">Babi Yar</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">No monument stands over Babi Yar.</div><div class="">A steep cliff only, like the rudest headstone.</div><div class="">I am afraid.</div><div class="">Today, I am as old</div><div class="">As the entire Jewish race itself.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">I see myself an ancient Israelite.</div><div class="">I wander o’er the roads of ancient Egypt</div><div class="">And here, upon the cross, I perish, tortured</div><div class="">And even now, I bear the marks of nails.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">It seems to me that Dreyfus is myself. </div><div class="">The Philistines betrayed me – and now judge.</div><div class="">I’m in a cage. Surrounded and trapped,</div><div class="">I’m persecuted, spat on, slandered, and</div><div class="">The dainty dollies in their Brussels frills</div><div class="">Squeal, as they stab umbrellas at my face.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">I see myself a boy in Belostok </div><div class="">Blood spills, and runs upon the floors,</div><div class="">The chiefs of bar and pub rage unimpeded</div><div class="">And reek of vodka and of onion, half and half.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">I’m thrown back by a boot, I have no strength left,</div><div class="">In vain I beg the rabble of pogrom,</div><div class="">To jeers of “Kill the Jews, and save our Russia!”</div><div class="">My mother’s being beaten by a clerk.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">O, Russia of my heart, I know that you</div><div class="">Are international, by inner nature.</div><div class="">But often those whose hands are steeped in filth</div><div class="">Abused your purest name, in name of hatred.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">I know the kindness of my native land.</div><div class="">How vile, that without the slightest quiver</div><div class="">The antisemites have proclaimed themselves</div><div class="">The “Union of the Russian People!”</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">It seems to me that I am Anna Frank,</div><div class="">Transparent, as the thinnest branch in April,</div><div class="">And I’m in love, and have no need of phrases,</div><div class="">But only that we gaze into each other’s eyes.</div><div class="">How little one can see, or even sense!</div><div class="">Leaves are forbidden, so is sky,</div><div class="">But much is still allowed – very gently</div><div class="">In darkened rooms each other to embrace.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">“They come!”</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">“No, fear not – those are sounds</div><div class="">Of spring itself. She’s coming soon.</div><div class="">Quickly, your lips!”</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">“They break the door!”</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">“No, river ice is breaking…”</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">Wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar,</div><div class="">The trees look sternly, as if passing judgement.</div><div class="">Here, silently, all screams, and, hat in hand,</div><div class="">I feel my hair changing shade to gray.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">And I myself, like one long soundless scream</div><div class="">Above the thousands of thousands interred,</div><div class="">I’m every old man executed here,</div><div class="">As I am every child murdered here.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">No fiber of my body will forget this.</div><div class="">May “Internationale” thunder and ring *3*</div><div class="">When, for all time, is buried and forgotten</div><div class="">The last of antisemites on this earth.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">There is no Jewish blood that’s blood of mine,</div><div class="">But, hated with a passion that’s corrosive</div><div class="">Am I by antisemites like a Jew.</div><div class="">And that is why I call myself a Russian!</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Yevgeny Yevtushenko - <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); orphans: 2; widows: 2; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="">7/18/32 - 4/1/17</span></div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">(Translated by Benjamin Okopnik)</div><div class=""><br class=""></div></div>_______________________________________________<br class="">PoetryLovers mailing list<br class=""><a href="mailto:PoetryLovers@lists.sonic.net" class="">PoetryLovers@lists.sonic.net</a><br class="">https://lists.sonic.net/mailman/listinfo/poetrylovers<br class=""></div></blockquote></div><br class=""></body></html>