The Ballad of the White Glow by Itzik Manger

 

“You’ve grieved enough, my daughter dear,

You’ve mourned enough, your woe.”

“Mother, see, in the depth of night—

A cool, white glow.”
“It’s a will-o’-the-wisp, my daughter,

A will-o’-the-wisp, be sure.

May it always wander the empty fields

And come here nevermore.”
“It cannot be a will-o’-the-wisp,

It may not be false fire,

Because my heart, in that cool glow,

Is throbbing with desire.”
“Say your prayer, my daughter.

I cannot understand—”

“Mother, the white glow calling me

Calls from the beyond.

What shall I say to my urgent heart?

Shall I refuse to go?

If it is my heart calling,

Shall I answer, “No?”
The storm is blowing out of doors,

Outside there whirls the snow.

“Wait one moment more, white light.

One moment and I’ll go.”
Quickly, quickly, she takes up

Her little crimson shawl.

Her own blood is a brighter red—

The look of death is pale.
Long, long at the windowpane

Her mother sees her go,

Until the virgin silhouette

Fades in the pallid glow.