-
1
1.BELZ
music:AlexanderOlshanetskyLyrics:JacobJacobsOy,oyoyBelz,maynshteteleBelzMaynheimeledortvuikhhobmaynekindersheyornfarbrakhtOy,oy,oyBelz,maynshteteleBelzInorimenshtibelemitallekinderlekhdortgelakhtOyyednshabbesflegikhloifnmitalleyingelekhgleikhZitsnunterdemgrinembeymele,varfnshteyndelekhintaykhBelz,maynshteteleBelz,Maynheymelevukh’obgehatdisheynekhaloymesasakhBelz,mylittletown,mylittlehomewhereIspentmychildhoodyears.InthepoorlittlehousewhereIlaughedwithallthechildren.EveryshabbesI’druntotheriverwithalltheboys,situnderthegreentrees&throwstones.Belz,mylittlehomewhereIhadsomanybeautifuldreams.2.DERREBEELIMELEKH
Poem&musicbyMosheNadirAzderRebeElimelekh,izgevornzeyerfreylekhIzgevornzeyerfreylekh,Elimelekh,Hoteroysgetonditfiln,unhotongetondibrilnUngeshikhtnokhdifidlersditsvey.Azdifidldikefiddlers,hobnfidldikgefidlt.Hobnfidldikgefidlt,hobnzey.WhenRabbiElimeylekhwasmerry,hetookoffhistfilin,putonhisglasses,andcalledforhistwofiddlers.3.REYZELEbyMordechaiGebirtigShteytzikhdortingesele,shtilfartrakhtahayzeleDrinenoyfnboydem-shtiblvoyntmayntayerReyzeleYednovntfarnhayzldreyikhzikharumKh’gibafayf,unrufoys:Reyzl,kum,kum,kumEfntzikhafentsterl,vakhtoyfs’altehayzeleUnbaldklingtinshtilngeslaziskol,s’redtReyzele:Nokhavaylevart,maynliber,baldvelikhzaynfray,Geyzikhnokhapormoliber,eyns,tsvey,drayInastreet,intheatticofalittlehouse,livesmydearReyzele.Ipassunderherwindoweveryevening,whistleandcallhertocomeout,Reyzl,come,come,come.
-
2
4.OYFNPRIPETSHIK music & words: Mark M. Warshawsky
Oyfnpripetshikbrentafayerl,uninshtubizheysUnderRebelerntkleynekinderlekh,demalef-beyz(2x)Zetzhekinderlekh,gedenktzhetayere,vosirlerntdoZogtzhenokhamoluntakenokhamolkomets-alef"O"(2x)Azirvetkinderlekh,eltervernVetiraleynfarshteynViflindioysesligntrernunvifilgeveyn(2x)Zetzhekinderlekh,gedenktzhetayere,vosirlerntdoZogtzhenokhamoluntakenokhamolkomets-alef"O"(2x)Aflameburnsinthefireplace,theroomwarmsup,astheteacherdrillsthechildreninthealef-beyz."Rememberdearchildren,whatyouarelearninghere.Repeatitagainandagain:komets-alefispronounced“O”.Whenyougrowolderyouwillunderstandthatthisalphabetcontainsthetearsandtheweepingofourpeople.5.UNAZDERREBEUnazderrebetantst,unazderrebetantstTantsnalekhasidim,tantsnalekhasidim
6.YOSSEL,YOSSELMusic:SamuelSteinberg
Words:NellieCasmanOy,oy,oy,Yossel,Yossel,Yossel,YosselMaynkhayesgeytmirazheoysnokhdirOy,oy,oyYossel,Yossel,Yossel,YosselDaynmalkezitstnokhaltzunvartoyfdirOy,oy,oyYossel,yossel,Yossel,Yossel,IkhkholemyedernakhtnorfundirUngitderyetzerhorenokhamolatoreYossel,ikhgeyoysfardir.
-
3
DZHANKOYE Folksong of Jewish farmers in Crimea during the
1920s
Az men fort keyn Sevastopol, Iz nit vayt fun Simferopol Dortn iz
a stantsiye faran. Ver darf zukhn naye glikn? S’iz a stantsye an
antikl In Dzhankoye, dzhan, dzhan, dzhan. Refreyn Hey, dzhan, hey,
dzhankoye, Hey, dzhanvili, hey, dzhankoye Hey, dzhankoye, dzhan,
dzhan, dzhan. Entfert yidn, oyf mayn kasha, Vu’z mayn bruder, vu’z
Abrashe? S’geyt bay im der trakter vi a ban. Di mume Leye bay der
kosilke Beyle bay der molotilke In dzhankoye, dzhan, dzhan, dzhan.
Ver zogt az yidn konen nor handlen, Esn fete yoykh mit mandlen, Nor
nit zayn keyn arbets-man? Dos konen zogn nor di sonim. Yidn, shpayt
zey on in ponem Tut a kuk oyf dzhan, dzhan, dzhan.
If you travel to Sevastopl, It’s not far from Simferopol There’s
a railroad station. Who needs to look for new joys? It’s a very
special station In Dzhankoye, Dzhan, dzhan, dzhan. Chorus Hey,
dzhan, hey, dzhankoye, Hey, dzhan-town, hey, dzhankoye Hey,
dzhankoye, dzhan, dzhan, dzhan. Answer my question, Jews Where’s my
brother, where’s Abrasha? His tractor is running like a train. With
my aunt Leah at the reaper And Beyle at the thresher, In Dzhankoye,
dzhan, dzhan, dzhan.
Who says that Jews know only of trade, And how to eat fat soup
with almonds, But not how to be workingmen? Only our enemies can
say that. Jews, spit in their faces Take a look at dzhan, dzhan,
dzhan.
-
4
SHOLEM LID (VOLT IKH GEHAT KOYEKH) Volt ikh gehat koyekh, volt
ikh gelofn in di gasn. Volt ikh geshrign sholem, sholem, sholem,
sholem!
If my voice were louder, if my body stronger. I would run in the
streets, yelling peace, peace, peace, peace!
ZINGT OYF YIDISH Arkady Gendler (1921–2017)
Mit a fidl, on a fidl, Vider klingt a yidish lidl Mameloshn s’iz
dokh a mekhaye Klezmer hayntike khakhomim, Shpiln yidishe nigunim,
Tsvishn alte lider shpilt men naye. Khotsh oyf yidish lang
geshvign, Zingen mir mit fargenign, M’geyt derbay a tentsl mole
ta’am. Tomer felt a gram tsum lidl, Tsi a strune bay dem fidl Zingt
men unter: tshiri-biri-bom. Refreyn: Tshiri-bim, tshiri-bom, Zingt
bazunder tsi in eynem, Tshiri-bim, tshiri-bom, Un far keynem zikh
nit shemen, Tshiri-bim, tshiri-bom, tshiri-bim-bom,
bim-bom-bom.
With or without a fiddle, A Yiddish song rings out again Our
mother-tongue is a joy Today’s wise musicians Play Yiddish melodies
Among old songs, some are new Although Yiddish was silent for a
long time, we now sing with joy It’s such a delicious experience.
If a rhyme is missing from the words, Or a string from a fiddle, We
just sing: chiri biri bom. Chorus: Chiri bim, chiri bom, We all
sing along together, Chiri bim, chiri bom, And sing without shame,
Chiri bim, chiri bom, chiri bim-bom, bim-bom-bom.
-
5
Nokh dem shabesdikn kidesh, Zingt men zmires oykh oyf yidish,
S’zingen mit afile di rabonim Zoln ale yidn visn: Say oyf khasenes
un brisn Zingen yidish ale mekhutonim. Oyf kontzertn, festivaln,
Flisn naye, frishe kvaln: Yung un alt in eynem zingen lider Khane,
Zalmen, Reyzl, Itsik, Moyshe, Leybl mitn smitshik, Ale shvester,
ale zaynen brider. Refreyn Yidish vider vert geboyrn, S’iz der
shoyresh nit farloyrn S’fayer oyfn pripetshik nit farloshn Yidn
zaynen eyn mishpokhe, Shikn umetum a brokhe, M’redt, m’shraybt,
m’zingt oyf mameloshn. Moskve, Peterburg un Kiev, Zaporozhe, Tel
Aviv, Krim, Odes, Nyu-York, Yerushalayim, San Frantsisko un
Berditshev, Yede shtot un yeder yishev, Makhn dort oyf yidish a
lekhaim! Refreyn
After shabes Kiddush We also sing in Yiddish, Even the Rabbis
sing along All Jews should know: At weddings and at brises All the
in-laws sing in Yiddish. At concerts, festivals, Flow fresh, new
well-springs: Young and all all sing together Khane, Zalmen, Reyzl,
Itsik, Moyshe, Leybl mitn with his fiddle, All together as sisters
and brothers. Chorus Now we feel our worth, Our roots are not lost
The fire is not extinguished Jews are one family, They send their
blessing everywhere, We speak, we write, we sing in our mother
tongue. Moscow, Petersburg and Kiev Zaporozhye, Tel Aviv, the
Crimea, Odessa, New York, Jerusalem San Francisco and Berdichev In
every town and community We drink a toast – in Yiddish. Chorus
-
6
SHNIRELE PERELE
Shnirele Perele, gilderne fon, Moshiakh ben Dovid zitst oybn on.
Er halt a bekher in der rekhter hant Un makht a brokhe oyfn gantsn
land Oy omen v’omen, dos iz vor: Moshiakh vet kumen hayntiks yor.
Vet er kumen tsu forn Veln zayn gute yorn, Vet er kumen tsu raytn
Veln zayn gute tsaytn, Vet er kumen tsu geyen Veln di yidn in
erets-yisroel aynshteyn!
String of pearls, golden flag, Messiah son of David sits on
high. He holds a goblet in his right hand And blesses over the
land. Amen and amen, this is true: Messiah is coming this very
year. If he comes riding in a wagon There will be good years, If he
comes riding on a horse There will be good times If he comes
walking The Jews will dwell in Israel!
-
7
DI SAPOZHKELEKH
Farkoyfn di sapozhkelekh un forn oyf di droshkelekh,
Abi mit dir in eynem tsu zayn
Oy, ikh on dir un du on mir, Vi a klyamke on a tir,
ketsele, feygele mayn.
Oy forn oyf di vokzalekhlekh, un farkoyfn fremde
shalekhlekh,
Abi mit dir in eynem tsu zayn
Oy, ikh on dir un du on mir, Vi a klyamke on a tir,
ketsele, feygele mayn.
Oy, esn on a tishele, un shlofn on a kishele
Abi mit dir in eynem tsu zayn,
Oy, ikh on dir un du on mir, Vi a klyamke on a tir,
ketsele, feygele mayn.
I’d sell my boots and ride on a wagon, just to be together with
you. I without you and you without me are like a doorknob without a
door, my kitten, my little bird. I’d go to railroad stations &
sell scarves to strangers just to be together with you I’ll eat
without a table and sleep without a pillow just to be together with
you.
-
8
SHPIL GITAR Russian folksong Shpil gitar, biz mayn tsar vet
oyfhern Zoln platsn di strunes on a tsol. Kh’vil mit vayn un
shampayn shiker vern, Oy, un fargesn vos geven iz a mol. Tsu, vos
zhe zorgn, farn morgn Fil dem bekher on mit vayn Heyb dem bekher,
hekher, hekher In dem vayn fargeyt dem payn. Di tsigayner, zey ruen
un shlofn Un men hert shoyn keyn lidl nisht meyn; Nor kol-zman s’iz
faran vayn a tropn, oy, Iz dos lebn un der toyt shoyn alts eyns.
Alt un shvakh, on a dakh, iz farblibn A tsigayner, a held, gants
aleyn; Ferdlekh ganvenen, meydlekh fil libn, oy Er flegt zingen dos
lid azoy sheyn. Play, guitar, till my sorrow goes away. Let many
strings break. I want to get drunk on wine and champagne, and
forget the way things were. Why worry about tomorrow – Fill the
goblet with wine; raise the goblet higher, higher Pain dissolves in
the wine. The gypsies rest and sleep, and one no longer hears any
songs. But as long as there’s a drop of wine, life and death are
the same. Old and weak, without a roof, all alone is a great big
gypsy who used to steal horses and make love to girls, and he used
to sing his song so beautifully.
-
9
VU IZ DOS GESELE Vu iz dos gesele, vu iz di shtib, Vu iz dos
meydele vemen kh’hob lib? Ot iz dos gesele, ot iz di shtib, Ot iz
dos meydele vemen kh’hob lib. Vu iz dos taykhele, vu iz di mil, Vu
iz dos derfele, vu iz di shil? Ot iz dos taykhele, ot iz di mil, Ot
iz dos derfele, ot iz di shil. Arayn in di shtiber, mayn veytog iz
groys, Alts iz geblibn a kholem nor bloyz Nishto mer dos gesele,
nishto mer di shtib, Nishto mer dos meydele vemen kh’hob lib .
Where is the little street, the cottage and the girl that I love?
Where is the little river, the mill, the village, the shul? I go
into the houses and my pain is great, All that is left is my dream.
The street, the cottage, the girl I love - are no more
TUM BALALAYKA Shteyt a bokher un er trakht. Trakht un trakht a
gantse nakht Vemen tsu nemen un nit farshemen? Tumbala, tumbala,
tum balalayka (2x) Tum ba-la-layka shpil ba-la-layka, Tum
balalayka, freylekh zol zayn. Meydl, meydl, kh'vil bay dir fregn,
Vos ken vaksn, vaksn on regn? Vos ken brenen un nit oyfhern? Vos
ken benken, veynen on trern? Narisher bokher, vos darfstu fregn? A
shteyn ken vaksn, vaksn on regn Libe ken brenen un nit oyfhern, a
harts ken benken, veynen on trern.
-
10
HOB IKH MIR AN ALTN DAYM Folk song, published by M. Gelbart in
1938
Hob ikh mir an altn daym. Tra-la-la, la-la-la-la Iz der daym
oykh nit mayn. Tra-la-la, la-la-la-la Chorus: Lomir ale freylekh
zayn Kumt mit mir in shenk arayn, Trinken bronfn, trinken vayn!
Tra-la-la, la-la-la-la Nit keyn morgn, nit keyn haynt .....
Nit keyn khaver, nit keyn fraynt....
Hob ikh mir a gantsn toler .....
Vel ikh zayn der gantser tsoler....
Hob ikh nit keyn vayb un kind....
Bin ikh fray vi der vint .....
Lomir nit zayn vi di alte babes....
Lomir makhn fun mitvokh shabes!
All I have is an old dime, which isn’t even mine. But let’s
throw our cares away. Let’s be gay and have a drink without
worrying about today or tomorrow, about friends or relatives. If I
find a dollar, the treat will be on me. Let’s not be gloomy, like
old wives – let’s turn our weekdays into joyful Sabbath days.
-
11
DONA DONA music: Sholom Secunda Yiddish: Aaron Zeitlin Oyfn furl
ligt a kelbl Ligt gebundn mit a shtrik Hoykh in himl flit dos
shvelbl Freyt zikh, dreyt zikh hin un krik Lakht der vint in korn
Lakht un lakht un lakht Lakht er op a tog a gantsn Mit a halber
nakht Dona, dona, dona.... Shrayt dos kelbl, zogt der poyer Ver zhe
heyst dikh zayn a kalb? Volst gekert tsu zayn a foygl, Volst gekert
tsu zayn a shvalb Bidne kelber tut men bindn Un men shlept zey un
men shekht Ver s’hot fligl, flit aroyftsu Iz bay keynem nit kayn
knekht. English: Arthur Kevess & Ted Schwartz On a wagon bound
for market Lies a calf with a mournful eye High above him, there’s
a swallow Flying freely thru the sky Chorus: How the winds are
laughing They laugh with all their might Laugh and laugh the whole
day thru And half the summer’s night
In a wagon lies a calf It is tied with a rope High in the sky a
swallow soars It’s joyous and runs back and forth The wind laughs
in the cornfield Laughs and laughs and laughs It laughs a whole day
And half the night The calf cries and the farmer says: Who told you
to be a calf? You could have been a bird You could have been a
swallow. Poor calves are bound And dragged and slaughtered Whoever
has wings flies high And is no one’s slave.
“Stop complaining!” says the farmer “Who told you a calf to be?
Why don’t you have wings to fly with Like that swallow so proud and
free?” Calves are easily bound and slaughtered Never knowing the
reason why But whoever treasures freedom Like the swallow will
learn to fly.
-
12
FRILING Shmerke Kaczerginski (1908-1954)
Ikh blondzhe in geto Fun gesl tsu gesl Un ken nit gefinen keyn
ort Nito iz mayn liber, Vi trogt men ariber? Mentshn, o zogt khotsh
a vort. Es laykht af mayn heym itst Der himl der bloyer Vos zhe hob
ikh itst derfun? Ikh shtey vi a betler Bay yetvidn toyer Un betl, a
bisele zun. Refreyn: Friling, nem tsu mayn troyer. Un breng mayn
libstn, Mayn trayen tsurik. Friling, af dayne fligl bloye O, nem
mayn harts mit, Un breng us tsu mayn glik. Ikh gey tsu der arbet
Farbay undzer shtibl, In troyer, der toyer farmakht. Der tog a
tsehelter, Di blumen farvelkte, Zey vyanen, far zey iz oykh nakht.
Farmakht af tsurikvegs, Es noyet der troyer,
I wander through the ghetto From lane to lane Useless, no solace
I find. My beloved is gone How can I go on? Someone, oh say just a
word! My house is aglow now The sky's like a blue dome But what is
there left in my life? I stand like a beggar At each of these
doorways And beg for a little bit of sun Chorus: Springtime, please
take my sorrow And bring my loved one, My dear one back to me.
Springtime, upon your wings of blue Take my heart with you And
bring love back to me I go to my work And pass by our small house
In sadness, the door is closed tight The days is full of sunlight
But flowers won't bloom now, They're wilting, for them too it's
-
13
Ot do hostu, libster, gevart, Ot do inem shotn Nokh kentik dayn
trot iz, Flegst kushn mikh liblekh un tsart. S’iz hay-yor der
friling Gor fri ongekumen, Tseblit hot zikh benkshaft nokh dir, Ikh
ze dikh vi itster Balodn mit blumen, A freydiker geystu tsu mir. Di
zun hot fargosn Dem gortn mit shtraln, Tseshprotst hot di erd zikh
in grin Mayn trayer, mayn libster, Vu bistu farfaln? Du geyst nit
aroys fun mayn zin.
night At night when returning The sadness is burning Right here
love, you waited for me Right here in the shadows I still hear your
footsteps You kissed me so passionately Springtime is with us This
year very early My longing for you is in bloom. I see you before me
Adorned with spring flowers Smiling, you will greet me soon The
sun's rays have lit up The garden with sunlight, Turning the hard
earth to green. My dearest, my loved one Are you gone forever? I
can't get you out of my mind.
-
14
RABEYNU TAM Music: Hertz Rubin Words: Itsik Manger
Lomir zingen dos sheyne lid Haydl, didl, dam Vi di goldene pave
Flit ibern shvartsn yam Un trogt a libes-brivele, A sheyne
libes-brivele, Far dem Rabeynu Tam. Ver hot geshribn dos brivele?
Haydl, didl, day Geshribn hot dos brivele Di malke fun terkay
Geshribn es mit roytn tint Un farkhasmet es geshvind Mit heyse
trern dray, Vos shteyt geshribn in brivele? Haydl, didl, du
“Rabeynu Tam ikh libe dikh, Vos zhe shvaygstu, nu? Ikh ese nisht,
ikh trinke nisht, Ikh ver tsezetst fun benkenish, Ikh habe nisht
keyn ru.” Vos zhe tut Rabeynu Tam? Haydl, didl, de Er glet di peyes
un di bord, Un makht dray mol “fe” Un dos tsigele in shtal, Un dos
vayse tsigele,
Let’s sing this beautiful song Hadly, didl, dam As the golden
peacock Flies across the Black Sea, Bearing a love-letter A
beautiful love-letter, For Rabeynu Tam. Who wrote this letter?
Haydl, didl, day The queen of Turkey Wrote this letter She wrote it
in red ink And sealed it quickly With three hot tears. What’s
written in the letter? Haydl, didl, du “Rabeyn Tam, I love you, Why
are you silent? I don’t eat, I don’t drink, I burst with longing, I
can’t get any peace.” So what does Rabeynu Tam do? Haydl, didl, de
He caresses his sidelocks and beard And said three times: “Yuck!”
And the white little goat The little goat
-
15
Helft im unter, “me” Nu, un zi, de rebitsn? Haydl, didl, doy Zi
klapt im mitn valgerholts, Un zogt tsu im azoy: – Shikses lign dir
in zin, Nu un yakh, un yakh vu bin? Dayn heys-gelibte froy! Treft
ver s’hot dos lid gemakht, Haydl, didl, dam A shnayder-yung hot es
gemakht, Lekoved dem Rabeynu Tam Un shabes tsvishn tog un nakht,
Hot a lets arayngelakht Akurat tsum gram.
Helps him: “Maa-aa” Well, and she, the Rabbi’s wife? Haydle,
didl, doy She beats him with a rolling pin And says this to him:
You’ve got shikes on the brain Well, and me, what about me? You
dear, devoted wife! Who wrote this song? Haydl, didl, dam A young
tailor did, To honor Rabeynu Tam But on shabes evening Some
prankster insterted his own lines In perfect rhyme instead.
-
16
Iber felder, vegn, oyf a vogn hey, Mit zun un vint un regn, Forn
klezmer tsvey. A khidesh, oy, a khidesh, Zogt ver zaynen zey?
Refreyn: Yidl mitn fidl, Arye mitn bas Dos lebn iz a lidl, So vozhe
zayn in kas Hey Yidl, fidl, shmidl, Dos lebn iz a shpas! A tsig
shteyt oyf der lonke, Un meket troy’rik “meh” Hey, du tsig, du
shoyte, Troy’rik zayn iz fe Shoklt er dos berdl, Ta-ke, ta-ke, fe!
A foygl flit: gut morgn! Gut morgn, a gut-yor. Der troyer un di
zorgn Tsu alde shvartse yor Dem vint a lakh in ponem, Un Yidl,
Yidl, for!
Over fields, roads, on a hay wagon, In the sun and wind and
rain, Two musicians ride. What a surprise! Tell me who, who are
they? Chorus: Yidl with the fiddle, Arye with the bass. Life is a
song, So why get angry? Hey, Yidl, fiddle, shmiddle, Life is just a
joke! A goat stands in a meadow, And bleats sadly, “meh” Hey there,
goat, you fool, To be sad is silly So he shakes his little beard,
Indeed, it’s silly! A bird flies: Good morning to you! Good
morning, a good year. Sadness and troubles May they go to blazes
Laugh at the wind, Yidl, and ride on!
YIDL MITN FIDL Music: Abraham Ellstein Words: Itzik Manger
-
17
OYFN VEG SHTEY A BOYM Itsik Manger
Oyfn veg shteyt a boym, Shteyt er ayngeboygn Ale feygl funem
boym, Zaynen zikh tsefloygn
Dray keyn mayrev, Dray keyn mizrekh Un der resht – keyn dorem,
Un dem boym gelozt aleyn, Hefker far dem shturem. Zog ikh tsu der
mamen: her, Zolst mir nor nit shtern Vel ikh, mame, Eyns un tsvey,
Bald a foygl vern...
Ikh vil zitsn oyfn boym, Un vel im farvign Ibern vinter mit a
treyst, Mit a sheynem nign.
Zogt di mame: nite kind, Un zi veynt mit trern Vest kholile oyfn
boym, Mir farfroyrn vern.
Zog ikh: mame, s’iz a shod, Dayne sheyne oygn Un eyder vos un
eyder ven, Bin ikh mir a foygl.
On the road stands a tree, It stands bent and deserted, All the
birds of that tree Have flown away. Three toward the west, Three
toward the east, And the rest – toward the south, And the tree is
left alone Abandoned to the storm. I say to momma: “Listen, If you
don't stand in my way, Then momma, One and two, I'll quickly become
a bird...” I'll sit in the tree, And lull it During the winter and
comfort it, With a lovely tune. And momma says: “No, child,” And
weeps bitter tears God forbid, in the tree You might freeze. So I
say: ”Momma, it's a waste, Of your lovely eyes, Because before you
know it, I'll be a bird.”
-
18
Veynt di mame: Itsik, kroyn, Ze, um gotes viln Nem zikh mit a
shalikl Kenst zikh nokh forkiln. Di kaloshn tu zikh on, S’geyt a
sharfer vinter Un di kutshme nem oykh mit Vey iz mir un vind
mir.
Un dos vinter-laybl nem, Tu es on, du shoyte Oyb du vilst nit
zayn keyn gast, tsvishn ale toyte...
Kh’heyb di fligl, S’iz mir shver, Tsu fil, tsu fil zakhn, Hot di
mame ongeton Ir feygele, dem shvakhn.
Kuk ikh troyerik mir arayn, In mayn mames oygn, S’hot ir
libshaft nit gelozt, Vern mir a foygl.
Oyfn veg shteyt a boym, Shteyt er ayngeboygn, Ale feygl funem
boym, Zaynen zikh tsesfloygn.
Momma cries: “Itsik, my crown, As God would want, Take a scarf
with you, Lest you catch cold.” “Put on your galoshes, It will be a
severe winter. And take your fur hat, too. Woe is me!” “And take
your warm underwear, Put it on, foolish child, Lest you become a
guest Among the dead... I lift my wing, But it's hard, Too much,
too many things, Has momma put on Her weak little fledgling. I look
sadly straight forward, Into my momma's eyes, Her love did not
allow me To become a bird. On the road stands a tree, It stands
bent and deserted, All the birds of that tree, Have flown away.
-
19
DI KRENITSE Music: Chava Alberstein Words: Itsik Fefer
Dort vu grozn zaynen naser Shteyt a krenitse fartrakht. Kumen
meydlekh tsien vasser Mit di emer ale nakht. Unter zun, vi vayse
bern, Vaksn teg in groysn sod. Un in vaytkayt fun di shtern, Tantsn
yatn in a rod. Fun di steppes vintlekh blozn, Un a fayerl derbrent,
Geyen meydlekh af di grozn, Mit di emer in di hent. Vert levone
blas un blaser, Ergets poykt men in der nakht. Dort, vu grozn
zaynen naser, Shteyt a krenitse fartrakht.
Out where grass grows pretty wet, A well stands lost in thought.
Every night girls come for water With buckets in their hands.
‘Neath the sun, like polar bears, Days sprout in a great orchard.
And in the farness of the stars, The boys are dancing a round. From
the steppes the breezes blow, And a little fire burns, Girls are
walking on the grass With buckets in their hands. The moon grows
pale, and paler, Somewhere someone’s drumming. Out where grass
grows pretty wet, A well stands lost in thought.
-
20
AVREML DER MARVIKHER by Mordechai Gebirtig On a heym bin ikh
yung geblibn S’hot di noyt mikh aroysgetribn Ven ikh hob nokh keyn
draytsn yor gehat In der fremd, vayt fun mames oygn Hot in shmuts
mikh di gas dertsoygn Gevorn iz fun mir a voyler yat. Ikh bin
Avreml der feikster marvikher A groyser kinstler, kh’arbet laykht
un zikher, Dos ershte mol kh’vel’s gedenken bizn toyt, Arayn in
tfise far lak’khenen a broyt, oy oy Kh’for nisht oyf markn vi yene
proste yatn Kh’tsup nor bay karge, shmutsike magnatn Kh’bin zikh
mekhaye, ven kh’tap aza magnat. Ikh bin Avreml gor a voyler yat In
der fremd nisht gehat tsum lebn Gebetn broyt, an oremer flegt nokh
gebn Nor yener layt, vos zenen tomid zat Flegn oft traybn mikh mit
tsorn S’vakst a ganev, s’iz mekuyem gevorn A ganev bin ikh, nor a
voyler yat. Ikh bin Avreml, der feikster marvikher, A groyser
kinstler kh’arbet laykht un zikher A yat a kleyner arayn in
kutshement Aroys a mazik, a zeltener talent, oy, oy Kh’for nisht
oyf markn vi yene proste yatn kh‘tsup nor bay karge, shmutsike
magnatn Kh’hob lib a mentshn, a mildn, a nash-brat Ikh bin Avreml
gor a voyler yat. Shoyn nisht lang vet dos shpil gedoyern Krank fun
klep, gift fun tfise-moyern Nor eyn bakoshe, kh’volt azoy gevolt –
Nokh mayn toyt, in a tog a tribn Zol oyf mayn matseyve shteyn
geshribn Mit oysyes groyse un fun gold
Homeless I’ve been since I was quite young, It was hunger that
drove me away from my home When I’d scarcely reached the age of
thirteen Out in the world, far from mother’s eyes, Brought up in
dark, dirty alleyways — I became a fine young man, indeed. I am
Avreml, the most gifted pickpocket, A brilliant artist, my work is
light and sure. The first time I was jailed — as I remember it —
Came about because I’d swiped some bread, oy, I don’t work markets,
like any common criminal, I filch from business magnates, stinking
rich It’s such a pleasure to steal from one of these! I am Avreml —
a fine young man, indeed. Out in the world, without enough to live
on, I begged for bread; a poor man used to give some. But those who
had enough to eat Would drive me off with hate and scorn — So this
is how a thief is born! Thief I am — but a fine young man, indeed.
I am Avreml, the most gifted pickpocket, A brilliant artist, my
work is light and sure. While still a kid, off to jail I went, Out
came a wizard, a singular talent, oy, oy! I don’t work markets,
like any common criminal, I filch from business magnates, stinking
rich I like good people, gentle company; I am Avreml — a fine young
man, indeed. But this game can’t go on much longer, Prison life has
left me sick and crippled; One last request, if I might be so bold:
When I die, on that gloomy day, Let the writing on my monument say,
In enormous letters, fashioned of gold:
-
21
Do ligt Avreml der feikster marvikher A mentsh a groyser geven
volt fun im zikher A mentsh a fayner, mit harts, mit a gefil, A
mentsh a reyner, vi got aleyn nor vil, oy oy Ven iber im volt
gevakht a mames oygn Ven s’volt di finstere gas im nisht dertsoygn,
Ven nokh als kind er a tatn volt gehat Do ligt Avreml, yener voyler
yat.
Here lies Avreml, the most gifted pickpocket, A great man, he’d
most certainly have been; A kind man, with sympathetic heart, A
righteous man, who always did God’s work, If only a mother’s eyes
had watched him, If only the dark alleys hadn’t raised him, If he’d
only had a father as a child. There lies Avraham, this nice
chap...
-
22
ALE BRIDER Words adapted from Morris Winchevsky (1856-1932)
Un mir zaynen ale brider, Oy, oy, ale brider! Un mir zingen
freylekhe lider Oy, oy, oy! Un mir haltn zikh in eynem, Oy, oy,
zikh in eynem! Azelkhes iz nito bay keynem Oy, oy, oy! Un mir
zaynen ale eynik, Oy, oy, ale eynik! Tsi mir zaynen fil tsi veynik
Oy, oy, oy! Un mir libn zich dokh ale, Oy, oy, zich dokh ale! Vi a
khosn mit a kale Oy, oy, oy! Un mir zaynen freylekh munter, Oy, oy,
frelekh munter! Zingen lider, tantsn unter Oy, oy, oy! Un mir
zaynen ale shvester, Oy oy ale shvester Azoy vi Rokhl, Rus un
Ester, Oy, oy, oy!
We’re all brothers, Oy, oy, all brothers! And we sing joyous
songs Oy, oy, oy! We all stick together, Oy, oy, stick together!
Like nobody else does Oy, oy, oy! We’re all united, Oy, oy, all
united! Whether we’re meany or we’re few Oy, oy, oy! We love each
other Oy, oy, love each other Like a groom and a wife Oy, oy, oy!
We’re all so happy, Oy, oy, all so happy Singing songs, tapping our
feet Oy, oy, oy! We’re all sisters, Oy, oy, all sisters Just like
Rachel, Ruth and Esther Oy, oy, oy!