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The Khazar Poet

- Abstract

We are a nation of Jews; of Jews, I repeat,
converted by the harmful views of a
demented king
who for himself seeks no wing of bird or
An odd man, froward, wayward, dignified,
not deified (as I’ve already said) in the way
of his forebears,
but tears an idol worshipper to shreds
and would flay a fool sooner than a regicide.
Be my lovely bride, he drooled to the
witches’ Sabbath.
And the land really stood still far and wide!
Even the court poets stopped to chant chill
the mealy-mouthed, wary sons of bitches!

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