Jew

The name is immortal but only the name, for the rest

Is a nose that can change in the weathers of time or persist

Or die out in confusion or model itself on the best.

But the name is a language itself that is whispered and hissed

Through the houses of ages, and ever a language the same,

And ever and ever a blow on our heart like a fist.

And this last of our dream in the desert, O curse of our name,

Is immortal as Abraham's voice in our fragment of prayer

Adenoi, Adenoi, for our bondage of murder and shame!

And the word for the murder of Christ will cry out on the air

Though the race is no more and the temples are closed of our will

And the peace is made fast on the earth and the earth is made fair; .

Our name is impaled in the heart of the world on a hill

Where we suffer to die by the hands of ourselves, and to kill.