God Hid His Face
Selected Poems of RAJZEL ZYCHLINSKY
 
Where Do the Words Disappear

Where do the words disappear 
of the people 
who talk to themselves 
on the streets of New York? 
Do they drop to the pavement 
as mere dust? 
Or perhaps they are wandering about, forever exiled 
among the planets -
as white, lonely stars.

Where do the words disappear 
of all the lonely people 
who talk to themselves -
in the big cities of the world?
 

Translated by Tzipora Baradon

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