Maurycy Szymel


Sabbath, you are sacred to our hearts.

Come on a winter night — we wait

in a quiet and golden room

where candle light shivers and flickers on a table.

Looking at my mother’s face

I feel there is peace on Earth.

After Kiddush my father already drowses,

the moon cuddles its face to the window.

I have the feeling that I hear

a certain fairy-tale about miracles.

And as the candles’ flame wanes, the room quiets,

and the Sabbath silence enters.

— translated from the Polish by Aniela and Jerzy Gregorek