Among us they wander, the ashamed,
Seared in their arm
With red coal of hell.
No one wants to see it,
Seared in terror,
As a hump will not see its own shadow.
See, among us they wander, the ashamed,
Hiding their shame in a cave, in a ruin.
Thank God, from their gums
No one has yet
Sucked their drop of hatred.
But once, in shameless night,
When the ashamed lie
With eyes green like cabbage in Maidanek —
The number alone,
Tears away from their skin
Like a melody —
Hovers into the palace
Where a butcher dance is performed
By a freshly lunatic Belshazar.
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Comments about this poem (Ashamed by Abraham Sutzkever )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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