"Persistence"
Old, blue pages,
Purple traces on silver hair,
Words on parchment,
created
Through thousands of years in despair.
As if protecting a
baby
I run, bearing Jewish words,
I grope in every courtyard:
The
spirit won’t be murdered by the hordes.
I reach my arm into the
bonfire and am happy:
I got it, bravo! Mine are Amsterdam,
Worms,
Livorno, Madrid, and YIVO.
How tormented am I by a page
Carried
off by the smoke and winds!
Hidden poems come and choke me:
– Hide
us in your labyrinth!
—from Abraham Sutzkever, “Grains of Wheat”