God of Mercy

Kadya Molodovsky

1945

O God of Mercy
Choose—
another people.
We are tired of death, tired of corpses,
We have no more prayers.
Choose—
another people.
We have run out of blood
For victims,
Our houses have been turned into desert,
The earth lacks space for tombstones,
There are no more lamentations
Nor songs of woe
In the ancient texts.
God of Mercy
Sanctify another…
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