Jewboy

Julian Tuwim

1926

He sings in the courtyard, clad in rags
A small, poor chap, a crazed Jew.
People drive him away, God has muddled his wits
Ages and exile have confused his tongue
He wails and he dances, weeps and laments
That he is lost, is dependent on alms.
The gent on the first floor looks down on the madman
Look my poor brother at your sad brother.
How…
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