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by M. Jastrun, poet of the Warsaw Ghetto
translated from the Polish by Anne Appleton
CREMATORIUM-oven was your hearse,
its hyaline lid air-shaped;
processed through History's chimney
the smoke of the living escaped.
How can I honor your passing;
visit—what tomb denied
to a homeless handful of ashes
between the earth and the sky?
Shall I throw a green wreath
on a grave someone dug in air?
Where can I pray my grief
away? Please, tell me where?
Your invisible coffin
will not touch down,
No sound of wailing, earth falling
will escort you to the sacred ground.
Oh, what ominous silence
in the smoke of the unredeemed
covers a star defiled,
chokes a cruficied scream.
This poem is taken from a chapbook entitled "Poezje Ghetta: Z Otchlani" (Ghetto Poems: From the Abyss), a collection of eleven poems written by Jews in the Warsaw Ghetto during the Nazi occupation of Poland. The book was smuggled out of Poland after the martyrdom of the ghetto residents and published in 1945 by the Friends of the New York Jewish Tribune. Ms. Appleton is seeking a translator for the remaining poems; please contact us with suggestions.
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