BABI YAR By Yevgeni Yevtushenko Translated by Benjamin Okopnik, 10/96 No monument stands over Babi Yar. A steep cliff only, like the rudest headstone. I am afraid. Today, I am as old As the entire Jewish race itself. I see myself an ancient Israelite. I wander o’er the roads of ancient Egypt And here, upon the cross, I perish, tortured And even now, I bear the marks of nails. It seems to me that Dreyfus is myself. *1* The Philistines betrayed me – and now judge. I’m in a cage. Surrounded and trapped, I’m persecuted, spat on, slandered, and The dainty dollies in their Brussels frills Squeal, as they stab umbrellas at my face. I see myself a boy in Belostok *2* Blood spills, and runs upon the floors, The chiefs of bar and pub rage unimpeded And reek of vodka and of onion, half and half. I’m thrown back by a boot, I have no strength left, In vain I beg the rabble of pogrom, To jeers of “Kill the Jews, and save our Russia!” My mother’s being beaten by a clerk. O, Russia of my heart, I