Babi Yar - Yevgeny Yevtushenko

[Larry Robinson]

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

-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://lists.sonic.net/pipermail/poetrylovers/attachments/20170403/c8a72720/attachment.html>