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  • Writer's pictureCorbin Allardice

Poem 18 - Parable of the Blind Man (Final Poem)

Poem 18 - Parable of the Blind Man (Untitled)

And someone with blind eyes comes before me

And stands silent in the doorway.

His eyes remind me,

His eyes remand me.

“Who are you? Why are you here? Why don’t you see?

Why do you look? You scare me. Oh, just let me be!”

“Look into my eyes, from whom you have stolen


Nestled against a window lay the cold and tender night.

Blinded eyes, blinded eyes, a pale and bloodied visage.

“Give me back my eyes! Give me holy vision!

At my birth, the great God did put forth a prophecy

That I, clad in crown of golden light, would come before his mercy.

But I cannot now gather that crown’s light, for yet are my eyes


Now, with my long dead hope I stand resigned.

Now, I have brought my long dead hope, despite,

For my blind eyes, and for the tender night.”

Mit oygn mit blinde kumt emets tsu mir

Un shvaygnik shteyt er baym tir.

Di oygn on epes dermonen

Di oygn on ufher vos monen.

--Ver bistu? Vos vilstu? Farvos bistu blind?

Vos kukstu? Ikh shrek zikh. O, gikher farhvind!

--kuk zikh ayn in mayne oygn, dos host du zey blind


Tsugetulyet zikh tsum fentster hot di kalte bleykhe nakht.

Oygn blinde, oygn blinde, a tseblutikt bleykh gezikht.

Gib mikh op itst mayne oygn! Gib mir heln likht!

Baym geboyrn hot bafoyln mir der groyser got,

Mit a kroyn fun gold’ne shtraln kumen far zayn gnod.

Kh’ken di shtral nit ufklyabn, vayl ikh bin dokh


Mit a lang shoyn toyter hofnung ikh atsind.

Un di toyte hofnung mayne hob ikh dir gebrakht

Far di blinde oygn mayne, far der bleykher nakht.

By Moyshe Varshe

Translated by Corbin Allardice

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