by Itzik Manger
At the inn he drank away the last drop of sorrow
Blown to the wind is his last regret
Now he sits and counts the autumn stars
and waits for them to go dark.
And near him hanging on a black branch
Carolios Magnes = or Bontche Shvayg?
The night lights stars and bats
crowned shadows and leaf lice
Brother are you hanging? You’re a strange one
Where have you put your crown
in the blue crest of your Kingdom?
Silver fear flashes through a river
and is lost in black woods
full of grief and moonlight.
And the sad figure listens
to the seven wonders of the woods