Poems

I Wrung My Hands I wrung my hands under my dark veil. . . “Why are you pale, what makes you reckless?” — Because I have […]

In Memory of M. B. Here is my gift, not roses on your grave, not sticks of burning incense. You lived aloof, maintaining to the end […]

Lot’s Wife And the just man trailed God’s shining agent, over a black mountain, in his giant track, while a restless voice kept harrying his woman: […]

Lying in me Lying in me, as though it were a white Stone in the depths of a well, is one Memory that I cannot, will […]

March Elegy I have enough treasures from the past to last me longer than I need, or want. You know as well as I . . […]

Memory of Sun Memory of sun seeps from the heart. Grass grows yellower. Faintly if at all the early snowflakes Hover, hover. Water becoming ice is […]

Requiem Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected – I shared all this with my own people There, where misfortune had abandoned us. [1961] […]

Solitude So many stones have been thrown at me, That I’m not frightened of them anymore, And the pit has become a solid tower, Tall among […]

Sunbeam I pray to the sunbeam from the window – It is pale, thin, straight. Since morning I have been silent, And my heart – is […]

The Sentence And the stone word fell On my still-living breast. Never mind, I was ready. I will manage somehow. Today I have so much to […]