God Hid His Face
Selected Poems of RAJZEL ZYCHLINSKY
 
Dear Neighbors
 
Buy, buy dear neighbors, 
buy this piece of earth. 
Cheap! 
You will build yourselves a house here, 
dig a well, 
and under the window a garden will bloom, 
no ghost will come to haunt your place. 
My mother won't return from the gas chamber, 
nor will her grandchildren appear. 
Nor will I ever again be here 
with my tear. 
I only take a stone – 
it used to feel my mother's feet. 
In foreign, wanderer nights 
it may pillow me asleep.
Translated by Aaron Kramer 

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