ELEGY FOR MY SHTETL
It is dying--my home--the impoverished shtetl
Hidden there on the shore of the Vistula,
And long dead are the last Reb Shloimes
Who drove massive rafts down to Danzig.
They are falling apart, the misshapen houses
Grandfathers built from oak logs.
The sun is setting on their roofs,
Pouring bloody red on the green moss.
The synagogue is sinking deeper and deeper
And mold blooms on the frescoed walls.
We can still make out a lion's head
And pale hands raised in priestly benediction.
-- S.L. Shneiderman, 1938
Born in Paris in 1926, Marius Sznajderman escaped with his parents from France in November of 1942 and lived in Venezuela until 1949, at which time he moved to the United States. He studied at the School of Fine Arts in Caracas and at Columbia University. In Caracas, he was a founding member of Taller Libre de Arte. In his 40 years as an artist, he has had numerous one-man shows in the U.S. and South America and his work is in the permanent collections of many important museums.
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