BIRDS ARE DREAMING ON THE BRANCHES

Leah Rudinsky

Birds are dreaming on the branches

Sleep my darling child.

Next to your crib,

Just over your cot

a stranger sits and sings.

This is the crib that stands

crushed of joy and luck

and your mamma,

oh your mamma

is never never coming back

I saw your father running

beneath a hail of stones

and over the fields

there flew

his orphaned moans

translated from Yiddish: karen alkalay-gut