Poem: Small Antiques

Once there were three girls beautiful as gold,

who bragged about the rare antiques each of them did hold;

“I have a little head scarf,” one boasted with pride —

“From my great grandmother, with squares and flowers wide.” 

“I have a jeweled needle” — the second proudly stated —

from my great grandmother with small diamonds decorated.”

Only the third girl laughed silently to herself,

And quietly opened the door to an alcove inside;

“The dearest small antique of all, is mine alone, right here —

my great grandmother herself of over a hundred years!”

Translated from the Yiddish by Sarah Traister Moskovitz. This poem is from the Ringelblum Archives and appears at poetryinhell.org.