Moishe Bernshtein




Dedicated to Bereza Kartuzka


My golden Bereza consumed in flames, 

You return to me in solitary wondering 

With the affection that I keep for my missing mother, 

Taken on bloodstained wings. 

I see your face Bereza, in gray dawns, 

In the happiness and sadness of your curved streets 

You didn't lose a minimum of your image  

The same melody sounds in my hearings

Here this the market, the synagogue, the public bathroom, 

The route like a docile  and nice tape 

Here is my house, the orchard, 

It filled the air with it's aroma of apples and flowers. 

The Jews, I knew them for their names and them to me 

The mischievous children, reflected in their eyes dreams and marvels 

We went for a walk together, 

Toward the river, toward the forest 

And these greeted us 

Grandparents and grandmothers sat down next to the threshold 

Telling  exaggerated distant passed years 

Being young came out to have a good time...     

Who died and who was born 

And during the night when Bereza collapses in the silence, 

Even very late went for a walk couples go down the street 

But they are as drunk 

It breaks the silence a melody of those that study Talmud. 


I would like to continue telling a lot about that legend 

How lived Jews, lived and they died 

Only to remember them, is very painful, I should conclude 

Because it is difficult to tell in a single time 

The destruction. 


(Year 1973)