Have you seen, in fields of snow,(from the Yiddish by Cynthia Ozick)
frozen Jews, row on row?
Blue marble forms lying,
Not breathing, not dying.
Somewhere a flicker of a frozen soul--
glint of fish in an icy swell.
All brood. Speech and silence are one.
Night snow encases the sun.
A smile glows immobile
from a rose lip's chill.
Baby and mother, side by side.
Odd that her nipple's dried.
Fist, fixed in ice, of a naked old man:
the power's undone in his hand.
I've sampled death in all guises.
Nothing surprises.
Yet a frost in July in this heat--
a crazy assault in the street.
I and blue carrion, face to face.
Frozen Jews in a snowy space.
Marble shrouds my skin.
Words ebb. Light grows thin.
I'm frozen, I'm rooted in place
like the naked old man enfeebled by ice.
Moscow,
July 10, 1944
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© Michel Fingerhut 1996-2001 - document mis à jour le 23/02/2001 à 19h23m48s.
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