God Hid His Face
Selected Poems of RAJZEL ZYCHLINSKY
 
The Wind Gave Birth to Me

The wind gave birth to me, 
the mountain nursed me, 
the moon was my cradle, 
old trees rocked me to sleep, 
my mother was a dream.

The gray cloth that flutters before my eyes – 
is it a cloud or a shawl, my mother's shawl
 on her bowed shoulders 
in silent, crooked streets?

The wind gave birth to me, 
the mountain nursed me, 
my mother was a dream.
 

Translated by Barnett Zumoff 

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