For you, corpses of the Ukraine, Where the earth is full of you, And for you as well, slaughtered in a “heap” In Haradzišča the city by Dnieper, –– Kaddish!
Do not! Do not lick the heavenly tallow from my oily beards, From my mouths pouring forth streams of brown tar, O, brown fermented dough of blood and sawdust, Do not! Do not touch the hernia on the black thigh of the earth.
Away! I stink, frogs crawl over me! You’re looking for your mama–papa here? Looking for your friend? They’re here! They’re here! Only they reek of decay! Away! They delouse themselves clumsily with hands twisted like brass…
A dirty mound washes –– from bottom to top! Here! What you feel like, mad wind, dig up and take you! Opposite sits the cloister, like a skunk by droppings smothering poultry.
O, black thigh! O, fiery blood! To dancing, to dancing –– shirts off! We’ve been arranged here all over the city ––– a heap –– everyone, everyone, The eleventh day of Tishrey, 1920…