Roads are white with January snow,
The long nights are cruel with starry sheen,
Through the words I am reciting now,
I may be forgiven and made clean.
Sparrows scattered, stealing starlings’ dinners
Starling flew, a warmer wind to chase,
For my sins forgive me, dear sinners,
For my baseness pardon me, the base.
Star of Sabbath shines through winter air,
Undisturbed by praise and by abuse,
I will find my clean, best things to wear,
Light the seven candles of the Jews.
I will sleep, ignoring noisy bores,
Blizzard and ground wind at their play,
I would dream of fire, warm indoors,
And the smells of snow, and wool, and hay
Floating from the time’s forgotten cranny
Chilly voice will say “what’s done is done”
Arya Rodionovna, good granny
Whispers: “Nit gedaige, sleep, my son.”
“Prison dress fell off the poor devils,
Memories of them are buried deep.
Babiy Yar today hosts games and revels
All the grief is measured, you may sleep.
Sleep, but do not stop your heart from bleeding,
Tightly grip your worn out David’s sling”
I will be absolved by the unheeding
I will not forgive them one small thing.