Because I promised to read a poem by Rivka on her birthday next week, i decided to translate a few of them.  When i finished this draft, I began to cry.  what do you think?

There is a time

When more quietly than quiet the poem resides.

Where is the poem?

Consumed in the fires

Dumbfounded by hunger

In the ghastly rasp of a bullet

In the bloody scream of terror

Frozen in icy snow

Where is the poem?

In memory.