Rachel Korn | Poems | BERL'S COW

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RACHEL KORN / POEMS / VILLAGE POEMS / BERL'S COW

Berl’s Cow
Translated by Seymour Levitan

He sold the one-horned cow
and let the money blow through his fingers
like so much spiderweb.
Ever since, the stall has been empty
as the hole in a gum when a tooth is pulled,
the chain at the trough is rusty and cold,
and Berl’s children haven’t seen a spoonful of milk in the house
all winter.

When the woman next door milks her cow,
Berl’s children stand around her like chicks
around a mother hen.
Ten pairs of eyes staring eagerly
at the warm white streams.

Berl goes to the market in town every Monday,
pokes the cows, examines their teeth, and bargains.
But it’s always someone else who buys the cow.
Berl comes home
with a can of kerosene, kasha, and a sack of salt.

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