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World War II Poems and Holocaust Poems V - Ber Horvitz, Yitzkhak Viner, Franta Bass

Der Himmel
"The Heavens"
by Ber Horvitz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

These skies
are leaden, heavy, gray...
I long for a pair
of deep blue eyes. 

The birds have fled
far overseas; 
tomorrow I'll migrate too, 
I said...

These gloomy autumn days
it rains and rains.
Woe to the bird
Who remains...

This is powerful little poem, laden with irony. In the first stanza the poet longs for a pair of "deep blue eyes" because the Nazis prized Aryan features. 

In the second stanza, the birds able to migrate have all fled. The poet "promises" to migrate too, but realizes this is unlikely if not impossible.

In the third stanza, the poet suggests a personal plight similar to that of a bird who failed to migrate before bad weather makes migration impossible. 

The poem's title is also ironic, as "Der Himmel" can mean both "the sky" and "the heavens." Where was God during the Holocaust, the poet seems to be asking, ironically. 



Doctorn 
"Doctors"
by Ber Horvitz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Early this morning I bandaged
the lilac tree outside my house; 
I took thin branches that had broken away
and patched their wounds with clay.

My mother stood there watering
her window-level flower bed; 
The morning sun, quite motherly, 
kissed us both on our heads! 

What a joy, my child, to heal! 
Finished doctoring, or not? 
The eggs are nicely poached
And the milk's a-boil in the pot.



Broit
"Bread"
by Ber Horvitz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Night. Exhaustion. Heavy stillness. Why? 
On the hard uncomfortable floor the exhausted people lie.

Flung everywhere, scattered over the broken theater floor, 
the exhausted people sleep. Night. Late. Too tired to snore.

At midnight a little boy cries wildly into the gloom: 
"Mommy, I'm afraid! Let's go home! "

His mother, reawakened into this frightful palace, 
presses her frightened child even closer to her breast …

"If you cry, I'll leave you here, all alone! 
A little boy must sleep... now this is our new home."

Night. Exhaustion. Heavy stillness all around, 
exhausted people sleeping on the hard ground.



"My Lament"
by Ber Horvitz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Nothingness enveloped me
as tender green toadstools
are enveloped by snow
with its thick, heavy prayer shawl …
After that, nothing could hurt me …



Let it be Quiet in my Room! 
by Yitzkhak Viner
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Let it be quiet in my room! 
Let me hear the birds outside singing, 
And let their innocent trilling
Lull away my heart's interior gloom…

Listen, outside, drayman's horse and cart, 
If you scare the birds away, 
You will wake me from my dream-play
And wring the last drop of joy from my heart…

Don't cough mother! Father, no words! 
It'd be a shame to spoil the calm
And silence the sweet-sounding balm
of the well-fed little birds…

Hush, little sisters and brothers! Be strong! 
Don't weep and cry for drink and food; 
Try to remember in silence the good.
Please do not disturb my weaving of songs…



My Childhood
by Yitzkhak Viner
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

In the years of my childhood, in Balut's yards, 
Living with my parents in an impoverished day, 
I remember my hunger; with my friends I would play
And bake loaves of bread out of muddy clay…

By baking mud-breads, we dreamed away hunger: 
the closest and worst of the visitors kids know; 
so passed the summer's heat through the gutters, 
so winters passed with their freezing snow.

Outside today all is gray, sunk in snow, 
Though the roofs and the gate are silvered and white.
I lie on a bed warmed now only by rags
and look through grim windows brightened by ice.

Father left early to try to find work; 
In an unlit room I and my mother stay.
It's cold, we're hungry, we have nothing to eat: 
How I lust to bake one tiny bread-loaf of clay…

Balut (Baluty) was a poor Jewish suburb of Lodz, Poland which became a segregated ghetto under the Nazis. 



It Is Good to Have Two Eyes
by Yitzkhak Viner
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I.

It is good to have two eyes.
Anything I want, they can see: 
Boats, trains, horses and cars, 
everything around me. 

But sometimes I just want to see
Someone's laughter, sweet…
Instead I see his corpse outstretched, 
Lying in the street…

When I want to see his laughter
his eyes are closed forever…

II.

It is good to have two ears.
Anything I want, they can hear: 
Songs, plays, concerts, kind words, 
Street cars, bells, anything near. 

I want to hear kids' voices sing, 
but my ears only hear the shrill cries
and fear
of two children watching a man as he dies…

When I long for a youthful song
I hear children weeping hard and long…

III.

It is good to have two hands.
Every year I can till the land.
Banging iron night and day
Fashions wheels to plow the clay… 

But now wheels are silent and still
And people's hands are obsolete; 
The houses grow cold and dark
As hands dig a grave in defeat…

Still it is good to have two hands: 
I write poems in which the truth still stands.



Frantisek “Franta” Bass was a Jewish boy who was murdered by the Nazis.

The Garden
by Franta Bass
translation by Michael R. Burch

A small garden,
so fragrant and full of roses!
The path the little boy takes
is guarded by thorns.

A small boy, a sweet boy,
growing like those budding blossoms!
But when the blossoms have bloomed,
the boy will be no more.



Jewish Forever
by Franta Bass
translation by Michael R. Burch

I am a Jew and always will be, forever!
Even if I should starve,
I will never submit!

But I will always fight for my people,
with my honor,
to their credit!

And I will never be ashamed of them;
this is my vow.
I am so very proud of my people now!

How dignified they are, in their grief!
And though I may die, oppressed,
still I will always return to life ...

Keywords/Tags: Ber Horvitz, Yitzkhak Viner, Franta Bass, World War II, Holocaust, Shoah, genocide
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