Babi Yar

by Yevgeny Yevtushenko No monument lies over Babi Yar. A drop sheer as a crude gravestone. I am afraid. Today I am as old in years as all the Jewish people. Now I seem to be a Jew. Here I plod through ancient Egypt. Here I perish crucified, on the cross, and to this dayContinue reading “Babi Yar”