If they had not stopped
at the foot of Vienna,
but wandered further,
in between the umlauts,
what gracious families
we might have spawned,
who accepted Jews
amongst the strangers,
held great Valse parties,
sprinkled with pastry and challah,
noodles, and a dash of white wine.
The toasts would have been
as endless as a seder,
with less talk, and more gemutlichkeit.
My German less guttural,
more palatable, like my heart.
