Grandfather’s generation would have said:
“He is as dead! ”
his younger brother will a stranger wed,
one’s mind sees red.
At University their paths would thread,
thoughtless they tread,
senseless instead
of following where ancestors had led,
for what they bled
to be a Jew and join a new homestead
in Talmud read.
Although on Saturday turned table’s spread,
[he butters bread]
one would prefer by far to fast in bed,
[she mutters, fed].
Why are light’s links around him shed?
why was he bred?
Upon next weekend all must dwell in dread,
what lies ahead?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem