A Scrap of Paper Wants to Commit Suicide Adapted from the Yiddish of A. Lutzky By Joseph Buloff and Elbert A. Trommer Early dawn. A scrap of paper flutters along a wall. It flutters, drops to the ground, gets up, pauses, tumbles over from the sidewalk to the pavement; slides along, stands up again and is back at the wall, ambling and aimlessly groping. Is it sick? Is it starved? Or is it just a plain drunken sot? Who knows and, what's more, who cares? It is just a scrap of paper alone in the deserted street. It follows the wind——— This way or...that way——— What difference does it make? Finally, it strikes a lamp-post and, trembling all over, bursts our crying— Oh, how deep have I sunk! Oh, how low have I fallen! Last night, in the rain, I saw my image in the gutter. Woe to my face—what I look like! Wrinkled and dirty; my clothes in tatters and soaked in mud. O Lord, why have You done this to me?! It trembles once more and bursts into hysterical weeping— Oh, life is like a dream, like a dream... It is as if it were but yesterday. She, that beautiful lady, took me out of my cozy, perfumed drawer where I lay, happy and contented, in my silk wrapper. she stretched me out on the shiny surface of her dainty desk. Putting her tapering, fragrant fingers on my delicate, glossy skin and looking me straight in the eye, she entrusted me with her innermost, holiest secret. Stroking and caressing me with her golden pen, she poured out her heart's desire on my rosy flesh and vowed her love—not for me, but for him...that dear, sweet, handsome and beloved scoundrel. And I—not a word did I say. For, when I looked up into her eyes, I saw in them tears glittering like diamonds, reflecting all the hues of the rainbow. My tongue became tied with the wonder of it all, and I kept silent. But deep down in my heart I understood and knew what she expected me to do for her. I knew she was sending me to work a miracle—like striking a rock in the wilderness with a magic wand, to make a spray of healing water gush forth. I looked up to her, wondering—why have you chosen me for this errand? I am too delicate, too puny, too indolent for the task. Why don't you use a club, a stick, or an iron bar to knock some sense into his head. But how could I have said No to her, to her who placed in my lap her aching heart under which she felt the beat of a new life. How could I refuse to help when her tears, like gentle rain, dropped on my head, smudged my face, and her voice pleaded softly, "Save me, save me, or else I shall die by poison." Well finally, after she wiped the tears from her eyes she enveloped me in a spick-and-span, beautifully starched shirt, attached a rectangular flower to my breast, kissed me on the head from side to side with her moist lips, and patting me lovingly on my back for encouragement, she sent me off on my mission. On my way, I met thousands of fellow messengers. They each had a thrilling story to tell, but I made no friends with them, and would not talk to anyone. For I knew I was bearing a wonderful secret within me, a secret known only to her and to him and to God in heaven. So, on that morning, when I arrive to that dear, sweet, handsome and beloved scoundrel, I quietly crawled in through a crack under the door of his room and lay on the floor like a kitten, waiting for him to pick me up tenderly, embrace me joyfully, and kiss me with ecstasy. But no—something else happened instead. Something which took my breath away. He bent over, grabbed me roughly, thrust a coarse finger under my collar, and with one stroke tore off my perfumed shirt. Glancing with a mocking, vicious smile at my naked body, he nervously lit a cigarette and began to blow the smoke right into my face. I clung to his fingers and peered into his eyes and stealthily rustled the words of love she had inscribed upon me. I waited, as she had instructed me, for his heart to begin beating faster and for drops of silver dew to glisten in his eyes. But—I waited in vain... Suddenly, he was seized by a wild rage. He began to crumple, crush and tear me. I tried to cry out, but my voice failed me, and I fainted away. When I came to, I found myself lying in a dark hole, with all kinds of garbage and refuse around me. My clothes were torn, My bones—shattered, My heart—a wreck. O God, I prayed, take me out of here! Don't let me be buried alive! I want to live, to live! And just then a breeze, flying by, overheard my prayer. With one breath, it lifted me out of the hole and carried me away. And it has been carrying me ever since, night and day. O dear Brother Breeze, I know how tired you are of me, how you would like to be rid of me. Yesterday, you threw me into a cellar and when I began to cry bitterly, you picked me up again. Next, you pushed me into a puddle and when I all but drowned, you rescued me once more. But enough of this, enough! I am tired of myself and can no longer drag my weary bones along with you. Help me end it all! Put me out of my misery! Kill me, kill me! Carry me, as a last favor, out of town, put me down on the railroad tracks and let the first oncoming train crush me to death! Suddenly, the paper tears itself loose from the lamppost and, staggering, drags itself out of the city. But his little friend the Wind catches up with him and tries to hold him back. Out of my way!, the paper screams. Don't be a fool!, howls the wind. They lock in a bitter fight. They wrestle. The wind is on top of the paper. The paper is on top of the wind. The wind knocks him down with a straight blow and the paper flips, somersaults, and kicks the wind in the belly, breaks away and races breathlessly toward the tracks and puts his head on a shining rail. Death! Wonderful death. The final end. Eternal peace. But no sooner does the rumbling, whistling, rattling train begin to shake the rails, than the wretched, miserable scrap of paper cries out— Ah-ah-ah! Stop the train! Take me off the tracks! Save me, save me! Better any kind of life than death! And the breeze that has been standing by smiles kindly, picks up the scrap of paper, raises it high, high in the air and, once more together, they fly joyfully away, dancing and prancing over fields and meadows.