> Who ever heard of a Jewish Ukrainian peasant? That was pogrom country.
> ...For instance, the German army swept east across Ukraine going through
> cities like Lutsk, Zhitomir and Berdichev in the summer of 1941 killing
> 600,000 Ukrainian Jews. In less than two days Germans killed 33,771 Jews
> of Kiev in Babi Yar. During this terror Ukraine had the least number of
> collaborators of all 14 East European countries demonstarating the
> strength and moral character of the people (Procuik, 53). During this
> time women and children were not spared. Most of the executions were
> carried out by shooting the victims but some people were killed by
> hanging and others in trucks by gas. Hundreds of women would be found
> tightly squeezed in a truck burned alive thinking they were on their way
> to a shower while drunken Germans stood by with laughter (Kuznetsov, 377-
> 378). Ukraine was ridden with fear and tragedy due to the brutality of
> Nazi Germany during WWII.
BABI YAR
By Yevgeni Yevtushenko Translated by Benjamin Okopnik, 10/96
No monument stands over Babi Yar. A steep cliff only, like the rudest headstone. I am afraid. Today, I am as old As the entire Jewish race itself.
I see myself an ancient Israelite. I wander o'er the roads of ancient Egypt And here, upon the cross, I perish, tortured And even now, I bear the marks of nails.
It seems to me that Dreyfus is myself. *1* The Philistines betrayed me - and now judge. I'm in a cage. Surrounded and trapped, I'm persecuted, spat on, slandered, and The dainty dollies in their Brussels frills Squeal, as they stab umbrellas at my face.
I see myself a boy in Belostok *2* Blood spills, and runs upon the floors, The chiefs of bar and pub rage unimpeded And reek of vodka and of onion, half and half.
I'm thrown back by a boot, I have no strength left, In vain I beg the rabble of pogrom, To jeers of "Kill the Jews, and save our Russia!" My mother's being beaten by a clerk.
O, Russia of my heart, I know that you Are international, by inner nature. But often those whose hands are steeped in filth Abused your purest name, in name of hatred.
I know the kindness of my native land. How vile, that without the slightest quiver The antisemites have proclaimed themselves The "Union of the Russian People!"
It seems to me that I am Anna Frank, Transparent, as the thinnest branch in April, And I'm in love, and have no need of phrases, But only that we gaze into each other's eyes. How little one can see, or even sense! Leaves are forbidden, so is sky, But much is still allowed - very gently In darkened rooms each other to embrace.
-"They come!"
-"No, fear not - those are sounds Of spring itself. She's coming soon. Quickly, your lips!"
-"They break the door!"
-"No, river ice is breaking..."
Wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar, The trees look sternly, as if passing judgement. Here, silently, all screams, and, hat in hand, I feel my hair changing shade to gray.
And I myself, like one long soundless scream Above the thousands of thousands interred, I'm every old man executed here, As I am every child murdered here.
No fiber of my body will forget this. May "Internationale" thunder and ring *3* When, for all time, is buried and forgotten The last of antisemites on this earth.
There is no Jewish blood that's blood of mine, But, hated with a passion that's corrosive Am I by antisemites like a Jew. And that is why I call myself a Russian!
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-- Michael Pugliese