By: Yevgeni Yevtushenko (translated into English by Benjamin Okopnik) 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. The Philistines betrayed me – and now judge. I’m in a cage. Surrounded and…
Read MoreBabi Yar
