THE BUTTERFLY by Pavel Friedmann 4/6/42 ============================= The last, the very last, So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow. Perhaps if the sun's tears would sing against a white stone.... Such, such a yellow Is carried lightly 'way up high. It went away I'm sure because it wished to kiss the world goodbye. For seven weeks I've lived in here, Penned up inside this ghetto But i have found my people here. The dandelions call to me And the white chestnut candles in the court. Only I never saw another butterfly. that butterfly was the last one. Butterflies don't live in here, In the ghetto.
About this poem
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This piece greatly influenced me in choosing the butterfly, and particularly the crumbling ashes of the butterfly in the symbolism of my work. As a Jewish poet, I found the work of this Jewish poet to be very moving and haunting. I intend to record this as a spoken word piece with accompanying photographic visuals.
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