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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
libation.
An odd man, froward, wayward, dignified,
intellectual;
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
hymns,
the mealy-mouthed, wary sons of bitches!



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