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The train pulls up to the platform, steaming and boiling like a samovar.
Lazar is standing on the platform—short, glowing, joyful—waving his dirty handkerchief at the cars.
The train is on its way to…
Contributor:
David Khait
Date:
1928
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The months of which I am about to write are probably amongst the most painful in my whole life; I interrupted my work on the book for a long time trying to summon up the courage to embark on this…
Contributor:
Ilya Ehrenburg
Date:
1966
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[Gordon and Zhivago were on their way home in the evening. The sun was going down.] In one village [they passed through] they saw a young Cossack surrounded by a crowd…
Contributor:
Boris Pasternak
Date:
1956
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Ethnic minorities—majorities, too—did not suffer any particular persecution in our town. Rise as high as you can go, earn as much as you can manage, build something out of what you achieve—all you…
Contributor:
Aleksandr Melikhov
Places:
St. Petersburg, Russia
Date:
1994
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for V. Kaverin [Veniamin Kaverin, born Zilber, Soviet writer]
Contributor:
Lev Lunts
Date:
1922
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The small town resounded with whistling and shouting. The smell of stewing, the smell of frying, the smell of boiling.
Mr. Dykhes had sold all his defective soap to the army.
Mus…
Contributor:
Boris Yampolski
Date:
1940
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In every village in the region, in every farmhouse you’d meet them, the Boyars. The first Boyar, family legend had it, had settled in the Polesian forests many generations ago. His name had been Ezra…
Contributor:
Eli Shechtman
Date:
1965
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In solitary confinement it was forbidden to bathe, but when I got to my cell I washed my hands, face, and upper body well and lay down to sleep. This time I slept for about an hour and a half. At six…
Contributor:
Zvi Preygerzon
Date:
1960
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Jews, in the past celebrated for the ability to understand all things, are now in danger of being unable to understand anything at all culturally, for they do not have self-awareness. Without such…
Contributor:
Aleksander Voronel
Date:
1972
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Had I fastened
The cradle on a rafter,
And rocked it—and rocked it.
My little son, my Yankl.
But the house has vanished
Into a fiery dome,
How then can I rock
My little son, my own?
Had I…
Contributor:
Shike Driz
Date:
1953