218
PARTISAN REVIEW
And he lapsed into silence. His head sank down, his back
sagged, as if suddenly he felt the weight of his years. The car seemed
to be hurtling downhill. Dusk descended quickly, as if a heavenly
wick had been snuffed out. The sky became yellow as an old canvas.
There was silence.
It
began to snow again-a gray snow, thick and
wet, absorbing the light of day, and turning all being into primeval
twilight.
Translated from the Yiddish
by
Joseph Singer
