Featured Poem


Summer brings its fire thorns
and there in the can’t-be-called-a-sky
the sun is spinning turning wal-

The fields all around are singed. Here and there
are patches of green corn like
open sores. This is the truth
there’s no concealing it under the burning
tongue under the
what’s-it-called sky.

The dead, there’s no denying it, are
multiplying day to day, gazing
with eyes that are, it-shouldn’t-be said, dead
and there’s no denying. The widows
are young. The mothers
deaf. We turn our faces

away. That’s the truth, the War
there’s no denying, devours
another summer and then another
in this death-demented, blood-dreaming land.

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About the translation:
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Tuvia Ruebner
Rachel Tzvia Back
Original language:
2013 Number 1 - Strange Tracks

About the author

Original poet

Tuvia Ruebner

Tuvia Ruebner left Europe for Palestine in 1941. The rest of his family perished in Auschwitz. He published his first poetry c...

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Rachel Tzvia Back

Rachel Tzvia Back – poet, translator and professor of literature – lives in the Galilee, where her great great great grandfath...

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