This night is irredeemable. <br /> Where you are, it is still bright. <br /> At the gates of Jerusalem, <br /> a black sun is alight. <br /> <br /> The yellow sun is hurting, <br /> sleep, baby, sleep. <br /> The Jews in the Temple’s burning <br /> buried my mother deep. <br /> <br /> Without rabbi, without blessing, <br /> over her ashes, there, <br /> the Jews in the Temple’s burning <br /> chanted the prayer. <br /> <br /> Over this mother, <br /> Israel’s voice was sung. <br /> I woke in a glittering cradle, <br /> lit by a black sun.<br /><br />Osip Emilevich Mandelstam<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-night-is-irredeemable-2/
