In Praise of the Hebraists in America

Shimon Ginsburg

1931

Like a sparse string of lights, scattered but connected
belonging to a strange and darkly snowy train station
that suddenly pops up among the winter fields,
forgotten somewhere between New York and Cleveland,
I have imagined you, Hebraists in the expanses of America.
No one knows who planted your seed, a holy seed, here in this land
or who is…
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