[Page 177]

1. The village Roofs made of straw and hay, Toward the ground their margins dive, Walls in white shining lime, And tiny windows–like eyes. And the huts–arranged in lines, Pleasing a visitor's eyes, And beyond them–a calm river Stretching between its green banks.   2. Establishment of the colony On wandering and sorrowful roads Under the croaking sound of frogs, Somewhere at the prairie's edge A minyan of Jews has arrived. One by one, the shovels were distributed They ploughed furrows in virgin–land, And wearing arm and head phylacteries A couple of oxen they would follow. Suddenly oy vey! The head phylactery Fell down! Oh Merciful God Spontaneously they call: “Pick it up” and plow And so laughter is mixed with a tear. Many paths lead to the heavenly throne. They pleaded when the wet season come! Give power to man and ox And timely bring the rain! The oxen listened to the chanting, And with ease pulled their burden, Behind them a furrow stretched, Long lines of goodness and plenty. The time for sowing has arrived, The farmer in his wagon senses, His feet are firmly on the ground, His lips whisper the morning prayer And the wagon is laden With golden seeds to the brim. The children spread around in its wideness Gathering straw from end to end. I do recall, at the field's edge A baby is lying in his cradle, And at his crying, a young mother Is bending over him and singing. And when the harvest's time arrives – Reap, tie and hoist the sheaf… Years of hard work are passing Each conversing with the other.

[Page 178]

3. Grandma and Grandpa Outside, the cold is stabbing-burning Snow-mountains crown the village Around the old man– the grandchildren gathered at the flaming hearth. One is wise, the other mischievous and one is pleading “Please tell me a story!” A heartfelt smile shines over them and grandpa smoothes his snowy beard He tells stories about the past How they traveled southward to the end of the wilderness, and with tremendous effort and hard work, a colony of Jews established How the village joined with the neighboring city in the fairs. Although the dwellers of our city were brothers, Unfortunately,… their behavior was not right And one day, misfortune happened Accidentally he lost his wallet. But these city dwellers, the clowns teased and made fun of him—the fool. When he tells that story—the old man blushes as if this just happened yesterday, and to sweeten his insult, he brings a cup of liquor to his mouth And grandma who was sitting in the corner utters at him angrily while knitting: “again a sip?…this is a deadly drink, It's shortening his life”. But the kittens were playing with the spool, a joyful game they played together. Grandpa sees it and smiles: “enough with the grumpiness, grandma”. In the hearth, the straw is burning happy, smokeless the fire is burning. A heifer is jumping—hop! hop! hop! and suddenly is licking grandma. Grandma the heifer softly caresses, The fight is over, the grandchildren are pleased, a true peace between them now prevails Grandma and grandpa have reconciled.

[Page 179]

The cold intensifies, clap your hands, Lift up your legs and dance, my child The hand pump squeaks And the rein's ring–rings Frozen eyebrows with a white curtain covered, But the cheeks are burning fire, In circles–circles they gather, Noise, laughter and merriment. Rows of teeth–lustrous whiteness And the eyes' darkness—splendor and glamour. The old man moans “oof!” With filled hearts, the youth laugh.

[Page 180]

7. The Youngest Uncle Is in the Foreign City Grandpa reads his son's letter, in Dnieper City his son chose to reside. The old man looks at the picture again: and sadness takes hold of his face. Sad and gloomy is the letter The son must be missing his home. He was still a boy when away he went, my good child, so wise and knowledgeable. He does not write much about his affairs, he just wants to know every detail. Whether any rain is falling, and how is the heifer doing, and sends regards to those who know him. How is he doing in foreign land, not even a syllable, there is no mention. But I feel from between the lines longing and tears in the eye. The time is passing, and one day Uncle—the sailor, suddenly arrives, humming songs of liberty an idea he swore allegiance to.

[Page 181]

9. Being Recruited to Serve Esau The recruiting order for the age group has arrived, The recruits' preparation is intensive. They now rule the scene, Who could resist them tonight? If you don't offer them a drink— Your cellar is not safe. They'll raid it with no mercy, Better be nice to them and patient. Passover wine would be served to the guests and the evening meal's leftovers. Both sides would raise their cup “le'Khaim”—“To Life” to the sword bearers. Here they sit in the wagon together, and in a tight squeeze, throwing a quick farewell look at girl, mother and farther. Soon they will read letters— A flushed-face maiden and father-mother. Columns of words from the heart Written with care and respect: I am praying here by myself Holidays, Shabbat and Rosh Chodesh, In my mind—I can see the synagogue and in my heart—the Holy Ark.

[Page 182]

A voice is calling: “Get out” There is nothing wrong with knee-high mud, and on Saturday on the river we watch the last block of ice. The rumor is saying: “in the city A “new spring” is making waves. The enslaving iceberg smashed to pieces, “Liberation” is marching on the streets with a flag. And look: a soldier is standing, Speaking to the crowd with no hesitation or recoil. From the front's trenches The truth is calling you. The best of the youth fell in the battles, What did they die for and why? And who sent them to be slaughtered in vain? the wild “Samoderjetz”[3] The youths are singing, and the highland Is carrying the echoes of the song, People old and young applauding, On both the speech and the song.

[Page 183]

From the distance, the prairie light, Rules like a pure flow—it's shining. Clear are the birds' chirpings, Reaching the farmers' ears. They sow a corner— then rest a bit, they catch a nap, near the wagon. Their clock is their hunger, and the sun in the sky. How pleasant is the horse's neighing when its name is sounded: a manly call of a young youth, embarrassed, he blushes. He's annoyed! Here, the farmer's son would hoist the pale. He would drink from the water, first and then give water to the horse and whistle a tune between his teeth.

[Page 184]

[A poem about the colony Sdeh Menukha] Images of an infinite number of shades of colors Life-years from a distant past Against my thoughtful glance Come into my alert remembrance. But, Sdeh Menukha, you yourself, Fade like a dream, my heart is longing for you. The memories of your past Sprinkle salt on my wounds. The few, have abandoned you, And their homes were by others overtaken. Their soul seeks consolation for you With a song their generation is requesting.

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