Abraham Sutzkever

1913 - 2010 / Smorgon, Russian Empire

To Father

Pa, behind your coffin on a sled
I ran after you, I wanted to
Catch up with your memory that fled.
At my breast a dove as white as snow.
When a pole, with pulsing heartbeats, hollowed
In the ice a hut, for you to stay,
And the white abyss has quickly swallowed
You — in ice, you sparkle to this day —
I too wanted to jump in with you!
But my dove burst out of my embrace:
Evening sun crowned with white gold that flew —
And to life she drew me in her trace…
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