Perhaps because he was born in Russia,
and I was not
and his given name was Israel Isidore Baline (Beilin).
Perhaps because our paths never crossed
although his 1500 songs are not imaginary,
every Easter Parade,
every White Christmas,
every God Bless America,
is an invisible chain, enslaving
me to this man called Irving Berlin,
who has been following me
my whole life, from Broadway to Hollywood,
since well before his death in 1989
at the age of 101.