The Beginning of December 1918

David Bergelson

1922

In came the beginning of the month of December 1918.

Like the cheerless, cold drizzle, dirty frozen air hovers over the fields. Everywhere fragments of sky seem to be scattered over mounds of earth—darkened, torn, as though trampled underfoot, but the trampling feet have moved on: they are no longer here—they have disappeared, vanished into hiding…

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