Passover Night 1942 Poem by Yala Korwin
Passover Night 1942
not a crumb of leavened
or unleavened bread
and no manna fell
no water sprang out
of the bunker's wall
the last potato was gone
we sat and we munched
chunks of potato-peels
more bitter than herbs
we didn't dare to sing
and open the door
for Elijah
we huddled and prayed
while pillars of clouds
massed above our heads
and pillars of fire
loomed like blazing traps
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/19/2024 6:04:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
