Years Have Sped By

Poems

'Twas winter, on a cold market day,

When all about was hazily dormant . . .

My mother, in the midst of her "Moideh Ani"²

Took basket in hand, and rushed off to the market . . .

Perhaps there was a chance

A hen, a duck or goose to purchase.

In the pitch-dark pre-dawn,

People were scurrying at a rapid pace -- --

There were many more buyers in the market place

Than wares upon the wagons.

 

"Batushka"³ -- what are you asking for your goose?"

My mother mildly asked the peasant . . .

And he -- overbearing, arrogant,

Whipped his spavined old mare,

And roared angrily, in voice unpleasant:

"Damned Jew!"

Indeed, the world isn't enough for you!"

 

The jaded old creature leaped even higher!

Its equine muzzle brazenly lifted,

As it too, were contemptuous of the buyer . . .

My mother, with lips compressed, muttered: --

"Observe, my Jews, such impudence;

May such a year and such misfortune seize

All our loathsome enemies!"

To herself my mother softly intoned . . .

Oh, how deep must have been the wound . . .

 

She came back home, --

Empty was her basket . . .

Her body as if in a vise . . .

And dizzily, before her eyes,

There seemed to appear

the peasant, in all his arrogance,

Accompanied by the jaded cart-horse, -- --

the whip snapping again

past her face!

"Woe to us, my Jew . . .

You are indeed in "goles"⁴

When anyone at all can laugh at you . . .

May such a year, such misfortune seize

All our loathsome enemies!"

 

Thus to herself having spoken,

With a tear . . . composed, determined,

Wiped her tearful face with her apron . . .

Tore herself from out my arms,

And to the market once again returned . . .

One cannot let the market-day go by;

At home there's hardly a bite to eat . . .

And on God's bounty 'tis difficult to rely . . .

 

Mother mine -- -- --

Your aggravated, righteous tear of pain

So stubborn, planted a little seed in me.

Today I relive it once again,

Even after the passing of half a century.

 

Often I still feel her sorrowful caress,

Though half a century has passed . . .

And still -- my mother's tear

Tremble within me . . .

1. EREV PASSOVER - Just before Passover
2. "Moideh Ani" - Prayer of confession
3. "Batushka" - Russian expression meaning "Little Father"; a form of address.
4. "goles" Jews living outside of Israel. The Diaspora.