Boston North Inc.
Present Memories
Borys Zinger Poetry II
I Leave my Sisters
By Borys Zinger
I whirl back, many years
To an epoch, when I was twenty two
My heart in pain, eyes in tears
I leave the girls alone, whom to?
Of my puny physique, I’m aware
It weighs on my conscience.
I was intent on running away in despair
Would it help? That was also dubious.
Many faces I knew were gone,
My younger brother was hiding
Perhaps somewhere also alone.
What's the fate of such living?
My older sister listened to me,
Then, she said: “My brother, you are a man.
Mr. Markus is an astrologist, a known professor.
He and Mrs. Markus will help us as they can.
You, Berish, should get as far to the East as you may,
The farther, the better.
Mr. Makus says the Germans might need him...
He is our landlord and friend.
He says that food is no matter.
I managed to stay a night in the bred line “AB”
In Cracow’s Center Square.
Luckily, I was only thrown out brutally.
My face and the Polish tongue, incidentally,
Were quite helpful to me.
I have written before on that bitter score...
A certain sphere of Polish ENDECIA, horrible people
Masked as college students -
Hatefully used their chance once more:
A bearded Jewish man was hit on his naked heals and body
Until he was dying, with a sign of grace on his face
And open eyes, like he blamed the pigmented, rosy skies.
The mob wasn't just a fraction,
They lynched an innocent Jewish person
To their full satisfaction.
I ran away, far away, following my sister's wishes...
I went as far as the North Caucasus.
BZ 10.13.09