Maia Evrona
Hidden Yiddish
Perhaps there is memory growing out of oblivion,
a miracle happening on a journey,
as the nightingale sings an aching soliloquy
buried in the forests of Poland.
Maia Evrona would not dream of disturbing the mystery.
Perhaps there is memory growing out of oblivion,
a miracle happening on a journey,
as the nightingale sings an aching soliloquy
buried in the forests of Poland.
Maia Evrona would not dream of disturbing the mystery.