Today I stayed home,

Fearing a pogrom against the Jews,

In the name of Russian Christianity.

The dog pointed its muzzle at the door.

“Don’t ask,” I snapped.

Since morning I’d felt depressed,

The way you feel on a narrow little island,

At the hopeless hour of the flood tide.

An anti-Semitic pamphlet

Brandished

Its fist.

I’d long been weakened

In the bitter struggle with dust, moths,

With spiritual and bodily sickness.

Now Pamiat* is affecting my nerves,

With the connivance of Minerva,

Who evidently doesn’t give a damn.

Maybe we’re getting too cocky?

After all, look at the blessings bestowed on us Jews,

As for me, iambic and trochaic verse do my bidding.

Jews are everywhere—in every argument,

And a Jewish acquaintance of mine

Even sings in the church choir.

But, after all, I didn’t crucify Christ!

I never ever approved

Of such a finale.

I took a lot on my shoulders,

And, when I die, I won’t quit the Russian language

Without leaving my mark.

Translated by Daniel Weissbort

* Pamiat is an anti-Semitic organization (translators note).