ON THE DEATH OF A DAY-OLD CHILD
All dead, day old children will welcome you.
The wind will sing my lullabies to you,
when the sun falls where the saddest grass grows.
You are the beginning when light is wise.
God will guard to the end of days your day,
In the land of manna, Eden of bread.
With ray and shade you will play pranks all day.
Autumn will teem with the brown of your eyes,
With my grief will forever weep the dew.
Menke Katz, Lithuania-USA (1906-1991)