AuthorAlterman, Nathan

Who was sleeping on the Door-steps of his home in Poland, at the end of the war, being scared sleeping in his own bed. A Town in Poland. The moon is high up, clouds around, At nightfall at his doorstep The boy Abram is sleeping so sound. His mother stands up by him and above, Her feet not touching the ground. She says: "The night is cold and wet Come home, Abram, lie down in your bed." To her Abram answers: "My mommy, my mother, How can I lie down in my bed like another Child, when there I see you alive And in your heart is a knife?" His father stands up tall and transparent, Gives him a hand, scolding him loud and clear: "Abram come home at once, My son Abram, in a hurry, do you hear?" To him Abram answers: "Daddy, my father, At home I am scared. When I close my eyes I see you asleep, My father, my daddy, And your head is cut off your body." His little sister stands up, Calling him home with a cry. To her Abram answers: "At home I see you asleep, With the tear of the dead in your eye." Seventy nations then stand up and around. They say: "We are upon you, With seventy laws and seventy knives, To drag you home, to drag you alive, To put you in bed To sleep like your father. In his dream Abram shouts: "Daddy, Daddy." He shouts the name of his mother. She answers: "How lucky I am, The knife in my heart Keeps me from breaking apart." The night turned silent And the moon cloud covered. In the swords of the lightning God his word to Abram delivered, To Abram who sleeps On the doorstep of his house. Saying: Fear not, fear not Abram You will become so great and with might, Go forth Through blood and slaughter at night, To the land that I'll show you ahead. Go forth through blood and slaughter at night, Like a beast, like a worm or a bird. Those who bless...

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