God Hid His Face
Selected Poems of RAJZEL ZYCHLINSKY
 
And Always When the Sun Goes Down

And always when the sun goes down, 
I see the Christ of Titian.
Last rays fall 
on his pale hands 
and limbs, 
rushed to a grave 
before night 
and darkness. 
And always when the sun goes down, 
I see those 
who were gassed, 
incinerated -
so many pale, unlucky hands,
a forest of hands, 
and not one sun ray 
pitied them, 
and no grave was allotted them.
 

Translated by Aaron Kramer

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