THIS WEEK
Kadye Molodovski, IV דאָרשט, Thirst
Yehude-Leyb Teler, צו די פֿיזיקער און כעמיקער, To the Physicists and Chemists Aleksander Shpiglblat, צי דאַרף איך זיך פֿאַרענטפֿערן, Do I Need to Justify Myself
Kadye Molodovski, Dorsht IV
15: 22And Moses led Israel onward from the Red Sea, and they went out into the wilderness of Shur; and they went three days in the wilderness, and found no water. 23And when they came to Marah, they could not drink of the waters of Marah, for they were bitter. Therefore the name of it was called aMarah. 24And the people murmured against Moses, saying: ‘What shall we drink?’ 25And he cried unto the LORD; and the LORD showed him a tree, and he cast it into the waters, and the waters were made sweet. There He made for them a statute and an ordinance, and there He proved them;
אַ טרוקענער אַ דאָרשטיקער ליגט מײַן קרוג,
און איך גײ אום איבער די גאַסן
און איך זוך אַ טראָפּן װאַסער
און איך גײס אױס
און איך גײ אױס
נעבן מײַן קרוג.
לײג איך מײַנע ליפּן
צו די װאָרצלען פֿון די בײמער,
צי איך זיך מיט אױגן און מיט מױל
צו רעגנס פֿון דעם הימל,
און ביטער איז מײַן צונג פֿון װאָרצלען פֿון די בײמער
און דאָרשטיק איז מײַן מױל,
און מיד זײַנען די אױגן צום הימל קוקן,
און כ’זוך מײַן קרוג,
און ער איז טרוקן. ק. מאָלאָדאָװסקי „דאָרשט“, חשװנדיקע נעכט, װילנע 1927
THIRST IV
My pitcher lies, dry and thirsty,
And I walk through all the streets
Seeking out a drop of water,
And I am spent
Near my pitcher.
I lay my lips
To the roots of the trees,
I stretch with eyes and mouth
To the sky’s rains.
And my tongue is bitter from roots of the trees,
My mouth is thirsty,
And my eyes are tired from looking at the sky.
I seek my pitcher,
And it is dry.
By permission of the translator
Kathryn Hellerstein, Paper Bridges: Selected Poems of Kadya Molodowsky, 1999;
dorsht
IV
a trukener a dorshtiker ligt mayn krug,
un ikh gey um iber di gasn
un ikh zukh a tropn vaser
un ikh geys oys
un ikh gey oys
nebn mayn krug.
leyg ikh mayne lipn
tsu di vortslen fun di beymer,
tsi ikh zikh mit oygn un mit moyl
tsu regns fun dem himl,
un biter iz mayn tsung fun vortslen fun di beymer
un dorshtik iz mayn moyl,
un mid zaynen di oygn tsum himl kukn,
un kh’zukh mayn krug,
un er iz trukn.
“dorsht,” Khezhvndike nekht, vilne 1927
Yehude-Leyb Teler, Tsu di fiziker un khemiker
16:4Then said the LORD unto Moses: ‘Behold, I will cause to rain bread from heaven for you; and the people shall go out and gather a day’s portion every day, that I may prove them, whether they will walk in My law, or not.
15And when the children of Israel saw it, they said one to another: a‘What is it?’—for they knew not what it was. And Moses said unto them: ‘It is the bread which the LORD hath given you to eat.
31And the house of Israel called the name thereof Manna; and it was like coriander seed, white; and the taste of it was like wafers made with honey.
טז 4 האָט גאָט געזאָגט צו משהן: זע, איך מאַך אײַך רעגענען ברױט פֿון הימל, און דאָס פֿאָלק װעט אַרױסגײן און קלַײבן איטלעכן טאָג די באַדערפעניש פֿון טאָג, כּדי איך זאָל אים פּרוּװן אױב ער װעט גײן אין מײַן תּורה אָדער ניט.
Like those people long ago
From the deserts
You reveal yourselves
From the laboratories
With stuttertongues
With scalded fingers,
With warnings
And with promises.
How are we to differentiate
Between magic and miracle,
Pharoah’s magicians
And YHWH’s slaves?
You, just like them,
Forge us to akeydes,
Call down floods upon us,
Pair us up in arks.
And we weep like the eldest sons
In Egyptian nights.
New commandments
The Reed Sea, Sinai
And manna
Is not for us,
Who are still studying the literal meaning
Ofbond and blood,
A cramp in the heart,
Old-fashioned step,
And every terror
We worship
Like a God unto itself. Literal translation, Sheva Zucker
tsu di fiziker un khemiker
vi yene a mol
fun di midboryes
antplekt ir zikh
fun di laboratoryes
mit shtamltsinger,
mit opgebrite finger,
mit azhores
un haftokhes.
vi zoln mir funandersheydn
tsvishn kishef un nes,
pare|s khartumem,
Un YHVHs knekht?
ir, glaykh vi yene,
kovet undz tsu akeydes,
farbet oyf undz mabl|s,
port undz in teyves.
un mir yomern vi di bkhoyrem
in mitsrisher nakht.
naye dibres,
yam-suf, sinay
un man
iz nit far undz,
vos kneln nokh dem pshat
fun knup un blut,
kram baym harts,
fareltertn trot,
un ayedn pakhed
dinen mir
vi a bazunder got. Yude-Leyb Teler, durkh yidishn gemit, Tel Aviv, 1975
Aleksander Shpiglblat, Tsi darf ikh zikh farentfern
17:3 But the people were thirsty for water there, and they grumbled against Moses. They said, “Why did you bring us up out of Egypt to make us and our children and livestock die of thirst?”
צי דאַרף איך זיך פֿאַרענטפֿערן
בײַ די װאַסערן פֿון כּנרת,
למאַי איך בענק נאָך אַלץ
נאָך דעם הײמישן ברונעם
װאָס האָט געקילט דעם אומרו
פֿון מײַנע פֿיבער־יאָרן?
דער דאָרשט
נאָך יענעם קרישטאָל־קאַלטן טרונק
האָט אין מיר זיך ניט אױסגעלאָשן,
ניט זאַדושעט געװאָרן אין מידבר־שטױב
אונטער קופּערנע הימלען.
מײַן לשון־קודש־ייִדיש איז אָבער אַן עדות
פֿון אַלע מײַנע בענקשאַפֿטן
און אַלע מײַנע ליבשאַפֿטן.
צי דאַרף איך זיך פֿאַרענטפֿערן? אַלכּסנדר שפּיגלבלאַט, געטונקען אין האָניק־צער, 2009
DO I NEED TO JUSTIFY MYSELF
Do I need to justify myself
By the waters of Kineret,
As to why I still long
For the hometown well that cooled the anxiety
of my feverish years?
The thirst for that crystal-cool drink
Did not die down in me,
Nor was it stifled in the desert dust
Under coppery skies.
But my Holy-tongue-Yiddish is a witness
To all my longings
And to all my lovings.
Do I need to justify myself?
Tr. Sheva Zucker
tsi darf ikh zikh farentfern
tsi darf ikh zikh farentfern
bay di vasern fun kineres,
lemay ikh benk nokh alts
nokh dem heymishn brunem
vos hot gekilt dem umru
fun mayne fiber-yorn?
der dorsht
nokh yenem krishtol-kaltn trunk
hot in mir zikh nit oysgeloshn,
nit zadushet gevorn in midber-shtoyb
unter kuperne himlen.
mayn loshn-koydesh=yidish iz ober an eydes
fun ale mayne benkshaftn
un ale mayne libshaftn.
tsi darf ikh zikh farentfern?
Aleksander Shpiglblat, getunken in honik-tsar, 2009
THIS WEEK
Arn Glants-Leyeles, אין מצרים, In Egypt
Beyle Shekher-Gotesman, ס’איז מצה דאָ,Tha Matsa’s Here
Avrom Sutzkever, צום קינד, To My Child
Arn Glants-Leyeles, In Mitsrayem For a biography of Arn Glants-Leyeles in English, click here.
For a biography of Arn Glants-Leyeles in Yiddish, click here (and scroll to the bottom).
10: 21And the LORD said unto Moses: ‘Stretch out thy hand toward heaven, that there may be darkness over the land of Egypt, even darkness which may be felt.’ 22And Moses stretched forth his hand toward heaven; and there was a thick darkness in all the land of Egypt three days; 23they saw not one another, neither rose any from his place for three days; but all the children of Israel had light in their dwellings.
י 21 און גאָט האָט געזאָגט צו משהן: שטרעק אױס דײַן האַנט אַקעגן הימל, און זאָל װערן אַ פֿינצטערניש איבערן לאַנד מצרים, אַז מע זאָל קענען אָנטאַפּן די פֿינצטערניש.22 האָט משה אױסגעשטרעקט זײַן האַנט אַקעגן הימל, און עס איז געװען אַ שטאָקפֿינצטערניש אין גאַנצן לאַנד מצרים דרײַ טעג.
אין מצרים
די פֿינצטערניש קנױלט זיך,
די פֿינצטערניש גליװערט אײַן אין פֿעסטע זײַלן נאַכט.
אין האַרץ פֿון דעם גליװער, סאַמע אין מיטן — אַ געשרײ,
אַ גרױס געשרײ פֿון אײן עק ביזן צװײטן:
אין מיטן די חורבֿות גאַפֿן די שקלאַפֿן,
אין מיטן די חורבֿות שלײַכן זיך שמײכלען,
גליטשן זיך, בלישטשען װי רעטענישן
איבער געדיכטע, פֿאַרצאָגטע, שקלאַפֿישע בערד. אַהרן גלאַנץ־לעיעלעס, בײַם פֿוס פֿון באַרג, ציקאָ, ניו־יאָרק, 1957
IN EGYPT
The darkness swirls,
The darkness congeals into solid pillars of night,
at the heart of the congealed, at its very center — a scream,
a great scream from one end to the other:
Woe to every house,
A terrifying night!
Death strides and slaughters,
Every house — a grave!
A mighty arm moves along,
In the darkness the mighty arm strikes,
Missing neither structure, nor palace, norstall.
in terror, in black madness, the scream rolls
over the whole land.
Hidden, nestled next to each other
Sit the slaves in their holes,
Sit in rags, desolate ruins;
listen to the lamentation from halls and stalls
And wait in dread and foreboding.
They see the mighty arm and nestle closer
The arm inclines gently and draws a sign.
The sign penetrates to the innards of the slaves.
The sign is blinding and they shut their eyes.
The sign is blinding and forces them to look:
Among the ruins in the middle of the night,
It moves like water and glows.
The air quivers anda new world
Emerges and awakens.
Hearts tremble and there unfolds
A sun never seen before.
It becomes holy and awesome and happy,
Revelation begins to awaken like a rose at dawn.
In the midst of the ruins the slaves gape in wonder,
in the midst of the ruins smiles slink about,
Glide, glitter like riddles
Over thick, despondent slavish beards.
Literal translation, Sheva Zucker
in mitsraim
di finsternish knoylt zikh,
di finsternish glivert ayn in feste zayln nakht.
in harts fun dem gliver, same in mitn —a geshrey,
a groys geshrey fun eyn ek bizn tsveytn:
vey tsu yeder shtub,
o, groylike nakht! der toyt shpant un shlakht, yedes hoyz a grub!
es trogt zikh a makhtiker orem,
es shlogt in der finster der makhtiker orem.
er maydt nisht keyn gebay, keyn palats, keyn shtal.
in eyme, in shvartsn shigoen, kayklt zikh dos geshrey
ibern gantsn land.
fartayet, getulyet eyner tsum tsveytn,
zitsn di shklafn in zeyere lekher,
zitsn in shmates, farumerte khurves;
horkhn tsum yomer fun zaln un shtaln
un vartn in forkht un in onung.
zey zeen dem makhtikn orem un tulyen zikh shtarker.
der orem neygt zikh mild un tseykhnt a tseykhn.
der tseykhn dringt in dem ingeveyd fun di shklafn.
es blendikt der tseykhn un zey farmakhn di oygn.
es blendikt der tseykhn un tsvingt zey tsu kukn:
tsvishn di khurves, in mitn der nakht,
es rirt zikh vi vaser un s’helt.
s’tsitert di luft un es sheylt zikh a velt
a naye aroys un dervakht.
s’tsitern hertser un es viklt zikh oys
a nokh nit gezeene zun.
s’vert heylik un forkhtik un freydik derfun,
antplekung nemt zikh vekn vi baginen a hoyz.
in mitn di khurves gafn di shklafn,
in mitn di khurves shlaykhn zikh shmeykhlen,
glitshn zikh, blishtshen vi retenishn
iber gedikhte, fartsogte, shklafishe berd.
Beyle Shekher-Gotesman, S’iz matse do Sung by Lorin Sklamberg on the CD Af di gasn fun der shtot/On the Streets of the City, songs by Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman
For a biography of Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman in English, click here.
For a biography of Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman in Yiddish, click here.
12:14And this day shall be unto you for a memorial, and ye shall keep it a feast to the LORD; throughout your generations ye shall keep it a feast by an ordinance for ever. 15Seven days shall ye eat unleavened bread;
The matsa’s here, kharoyses is here,
And cups of red wne,
After all, it’s Peysekh, it’s seyder, What could be sweeter than that?
There’s kidesh here, and 4 questions here,
Delicious food,
After all, it’s a holiday, it’s spring,
What could be nicer than that?
The afikoymen is here, Elijah the Prophet is here,
Family and good friends.
After all, it’s a holiday, it’s renewal,
What could be better than that?
The hagode is here, the 4 sons are here,
The wise one and the simple,
The one who doesn’t know what to ask
And the one who doesn’t ask at all.
The king is here, the queen is here,
There must also be kneydlekh (matsa balls) and fish,
Bitter herbs and horseradish, of course.
Who could it be otherwise?
The tune is here, Dayeynu is here,
The little goat from the khad-gadyo, God willing, next year,
What could be closer?
s’iz matse do
s’iz matse do, kharoyses do
un koyses royter vayn.
s’iz peysekh dokh. s’iz seyder dokh.
vos ken nokh ziser zayn?
s’iz kidesh do, kashes do,
maykholem mole-tam.
s’iz yom-tov dokh, friling dokh.
vos ken nokh shener zayn? ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay.
afikoymen do, eliyohu-hanovi do,
mishpokhe, gute-fraynd.
s’iz yom-tov dokh, banayung dokh.
vos ken nokh beser zayn?
hagode do, bonem do
der khokhem un der tam,
der vos veyst nisht vos tsu fregn
un der vos fregt nisht stam. ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay.
der meylekh do, di malke do
kneydelekh, fish muz zayn
kraytekhtser un khreyn avade.
vi ken es andersh zayn?
der nign do, dayenu do,
dos tsigele khad-gadyo.
mertseshem leshone haboe
vos ken nokh neenter zayn? ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay.
Avrom Sutskever, Tsum kind
12:12For I will go through the land of Egypt in that night, and will smite all the first-born in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the LORD.
29And it came to pass at midnight, that the LORD smote all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the first-born of Pharaoh that sat on his throne unto the first-born of the captive that was in the dungeon; and all the first-born of cattle.
יב 12 און איך װעל דורכגײן דורכן לאַנד מצרים אין דערדאָזיקער נאַכט, און װעל שלאָגן יעטװעדער בָכור אין לאַנד מצרים, פֿון אַ מענטשן ביז אַ בהמה; און אױף אַלע געטער פֿון מצרים װעל איך טאָן אַ משפּט; איך בין יהוה.
I was initially drawn to this poem for this parshe because it spoke of the loss of children, painful whether Jewish or Egyptian. After reading the entry from Herman Kruk’s Diary of the Vilna Ghetto I see that this poem would have been much more appropriately placed in last week’s parshe in which Pharoah forbids the birth of male children. I will leave it here for now so that you won’t miss it but will move it later.
From the Togbukh fun Vilner geto (Diary of the Vilna Ghetto) by Herman Kruk,
February 5 [1942]
Today the Gestapo summoned two members of the Judenrat and notified them. “From today on, no more Jewish children are to be born.” The officer, somewhat taken aback himself as he made the announcement, added that he had received the order from Berlin . . .
The impact of the order on the ghetto is indescribable. Everyone cited the first Sedrah in Exodus in which Pharoah had forbidden the birth of male children. The Pharoah of the twentieth century is far more cruel—no births whatsoever!
Tr. David Roskies, Against the Apocalypse, Responses to Catastrophe in Modern Jewish Culture, 1984
At the Military Tribunal in Nuremberg, Sutzkever revealed the tragic circumstances of the birth and death of his son.
Towards the end of December in the ghetto my wife gave birth to a child, a boy. I was not in the ghetto at that time, having escaped from one of these so-called “actions.” When I came to the ghetto later I found that my wife had had a baby in the ghetto hospital. But I saw thehospital surrounded by Germans and a black car standing before the door . . .
In the evening when the Germans had left, I went to the hospital and found my wife in tears. It seems that when she had had her baby the Jewish doctors of the hospital had already received the order that Jewish women must not give birth; and they had hidden the baby; together with other newborn children, in one of the rooms. But when this commission with Muhrer came to the hospital, they heard the cries of the babies. They broke open the door and entered the room. When my wife heard that the door had been broken, she immediately got up and ran to see what was happening to the child. She was one German holding the baby and smearing something under its nose. Afterwards he threw it on the bed and laughed. When my wife picked up the child, there was something black under nose. When I arrived at the hospital, I saw that my baby was dead. He was still warm. As quoted in David Roskies, Against the Apocalypse, Responses to Catastrophe in Modern Jewish Culture, 1984
צום קינד
צי פֿון הונגער, צי פֿון גרױסער ליבשאַפֿט,—
נאָר אַן עדות איז דערבײַ דײַן מאַמע:
איך האָב געװאָלט דיך אײַנשלינגען, מײַן קינד,
בײַם פֿילן װי דײַן גופֿל קילט זיך אָפּ
אין מײַנע פֿינגער,
גלײַך איך װאָלט אין זײ געדריקט
אַ װאַרעמען גלאָז טײ,
פֿילנדיק דעם איבערגאַנג צו קאַלטקײט.
װײַל דו ביסט ניט קײן פֿרעמדער, ניט קײן גאַסט,
אױף אונדזער ערד געבױרט מען נישט קײן צװײטן,—
זיך אַלײן געבױרט מען װי אַ רינג,
און די רינגען שליסן זיך אין קײטן.
קינד מײַנס,
װאָס אין װערטער הײסטו: ליבשאַפֿט,
און ניט אין װערטער ביסטו עס אַלײן,
דו—דער קערן פֿון מײַן יעדער חלום,
פֿאַרהױלענער דריטער,
װאָס פֿון די װעלפֿישע װינקלען
האָסטו מיטן װוּנדער פֿון אַן אומגעזעענעם שטורעם
צונױפֿגעבראַכט, צונױפֿגעגאָסן צװײען
צו באַשאַפֿן דיך און צו דערפֿרײען:—
פֿאַר װאָס האָסטו פֿאַרטונקלט דעם באַשאַף,
מיט דעם װאָס דו האָסט צוגעמאַכט די אױגן
און געלאָזט מיך בעטלערדיק אין דרױסן
צוזאַמען מיט אַ װעלט אַן אױסגעשנײטער,
װאָס דו האָסט אָפּגעװאָרפֿן אױף צוריק?
נאָר איך בין ניט װערט צו זײַן דײַן קבֿר,
װעל איך דיך אַװעקשענקען
דעם רופֿנדיקן שנײ,
דעם שנײ—מײַן ערשטן יום־טובֿ,
און װעסט זינקען
װי אַ שפּליטער זונפֿאַרגאַנג
אין זײַנע שטילע טיפֿן
און אָפּגעבן אַ גרוס פֿון מיר
די אײַנגעפֿרירטע גרעזלעך— — — ווילנער געטאָ 18טן יאַנואַר 1943 די פֿעסטונג, 1945
TO MY CHILD
Whether from hunger,
or great love for you
— only your mother can bear witness to it —
I wanted to devour you, my child,
when I felt your little body cooling down
between my fingers,
as if I’d clasped them
round a glass of warm tea
and felt its slow transition into coldness.
For you are not a stranger, not a guest.
On our earth one gives burth not to another
but to oneself — that self is like a ring,
the ring linking together to form chains.
My child,
in words your name is love.
But not in words alone:
you are the kernel of my every dream,
that third person concealed.
From the contents of the world,
through the miracle of an unseen storm,
you brought together, fused two human beings
to create you and rejoice.
Why have you darkened all Creation
by closing your eyes
and leaving me outside, a beggar,
together with a snowed-up world,
which you have cast behind you?
No cradle has delighted you,
its every rocking movement
concealing in itself the rhythm of the stars.
Let the sun smash itself like glass
since you have never seen its light.
A drop of poison has burnt out your trust.
You thought:
It’s warm sweet milk.
— — — — — — — — —— — —— — —
I wanted to devour you, my child,
to experience the taste
of my hoped-for future.
It might be you would blossom in my blood
as once you did.
I am no worthy, though, to be your tomb,
so I will part with you
and give you to the calling snow
to the snow — my first delight —
and you will sink
like a splinter of the sunset
into its still depths
and greet for me
the frozen blades of grass . . .
Vilna Ghetto
January 10, 1943
Tr. Heather Valencia
זינגט נאָך אַלץ מײַן וואָרט/Still My Word Sings: Avrom Sutzkever
Yiddish and English Edited and translated by Heather Valencia
tsum kind
tsi fun hunger,
tsi fun groyser libshaft,—
nor an eydes iz derbay dayn mame:
ikh hob gevolt dikh aynshlingen, mayn kind,
baym filn vi dayn gufl kilt zikh op
in mayne finger,
glaykh ikh volt in zey gedrikt
a varemen gloz tey,
filndik dem ibergang tsu kaltkeyt.
vayl du bist nit keyn fremder, nit keyn gast,
oyf undzer erd geboyrt men nisht keyn tsveytn,—
zikh aleyn geboyrt men vi a ring,
un di ringen shlisl zikh in keytn.
kind mayns,
vos in verter heystu: libshaft,
un nit in verter bistu es aleyn,
du—der kern fun mayn yeder kholem,
farhoylener driter,
vos fun di velfishe vinklen
hostu mitn vunder fun an umgeze-enem shturem
tsunoyfgebrakht, tsunoyfgegosn tsveyen
tsu bashafn dikh un tsu derfreyen:—
far vos hostu fartunklt dem bashaf,
mit dem vos du host tsugemakht di oygn
un gelozt mikh betlerdik in droysn
tsuzamen mit a velt an oysgeshneyter,
vos du host opgevorfn oyf tsurik?
dikh hot nit derfreyt keyn vig,
vos yeder ir bavegung
bahalt in zikh dem ritem fun di shtern.
es meg di zun tsebreklen zikh vi gloz—
vayl keyn mol hostu nit gezen ir shayn.
a tropn sam hot oysgebrent dayn gloybn,
du host gemeynt” s’iz varem-zise milkh.
______ ____ ______ _____
ikh hob gevolt dikh aynshlingen, mayn kind.
kedey tsu filn dem geshmak
fun mayn gehofter tsukunft.
efsher vestu blien vi a mol
in mayn geblit.
nor ikh bin nit vert tsu zayn dayn keyver,
vel ikh dikh avekshenken
dem rufndikn shney,
dem shney—mayn ershtn yontef,
un vest zinken
vi a shpliter zunfargang
in zayne shtile tifn
un opgebn a grus fun mir
di ayngefrirte grezlekh— — — Vilner geto 18tn yanuar 1943
THIS WEEK Dovid Edelshtat, אין דעם לאַנד פֿון פּיראַמידן, In the Landof the Pyramids
Yankev Glatshteyn, אָן ייִדן, Without Jews
Arn Glants-Leyeles, אחד, Ekhod — One
Dovid Edelshtat, In dem land fun pyramidn, sung by Jane Peppler, on Yiddish: An Introduction to the Language, Literature & Culture, Vol. II by Sheva Zucker
For a biography of Dovid Edelshtat in English, click here.
6: 5And moreover I have heard the groaning of the children of Israel, whom the Egyptians keep in bondage; and I have remembered My covenant.
ו 5 און איך האָב אױך געהערט דאָס קרעכצן פֿון די קינדער פֿון ישׂראל, װאָס די מיצרים פֿאַרקנעכטן זײ, און איך האָב געדאַכט אָן מײַן בונד.
אין דעם לאַנד פֿון פּיראַמידן
אין דעם לאַנד פֿון פּיראַמידן
געװען אַ קיניג בײז און שלעכט,
זײַנען דאָרט געװען די ייִדן
זײַנע דינער, זײַנע קנעכט.
In the land of the pyramids
There once was an evil, wicked king,
There, the Jews were
His servants, his slaves.
Children were mortared into the walls
When a brick was missing.
Who knows how long it would have lasted,
This barren world of slavery —
If, in the land of the pyramids,
A great hero had not come
Who fought for the Jews
With his wisdom and his sword. Tr. Chana and Malke Gottlieb, Yontefdike Teg: Song Book for the Yiddish Holidays, Workmen’s Circle
in dem land fun piramidn
in dem land fun piramidn
geven a kinig beyz un shlekht,
zaynen dort geven di yidn
zayne diner, zayne knekht.
kinder hot men dan farmoyert
ven a tsigl hot gefelt,
ver veyst vi lang es volt gedoyert
ot di viste shklafnvelt—
ven in land fun piramidn
volt nit zayn a groyser held,
velkher hot gekemft far yidn
mit zayn khokhme, mit zayn shverd. Dovid Edelshtat
in dem land fun piramidn
in dem land fun piramidn
geven a kinig beyz un shlekht,
zaynen dort geven di yidn
zayne diner, zayne knekht.
kinder hot men dan farmoyert
ven a tsigl hot gefelt,
ver veyst vi lang es volt gedoyert
ot di viste shklafnvelt—
ven in land fun piramidn
volt nit zayn a groyser held,
velkher hot gekemft far yidn
mit zayn khokhme, mit zayn shverd. Dovid Edelshtat
Yankev Glatshteyn, On Yidn
For a biography of Yankev Glatshteyn in English, click here.
For a biography of Glatshteyn in Yiddish, click here.
6 7and I will take you to Me for a people, and I will be to you a God; and ye shall know that I am the LORD your God, who brought you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians.
7 16And thou shalt say unto him: The LORD, the God of the Hebrews, hath sent me unto thee, saying: Let My people go, that they may serve Me in the wilderness; and, behold, hitherto thou hast not hearkened;
913And the LORD said unto Moses: ‘Rise up early in the morning, and stand before Pharaoh, and say unto him: Thus saith the LORD, the God of the Hebrews: Let My people go, that they may serve Me.
ו 7 און איך װעל אײַך נעמען צו מיר פֿאַר אַ פֿאָלק, און איך װעל אײַך זײַן צום גאָט; און איר װעט װיסן, אַז איך בין יהוה אַײער גאָט, װאָס האָט אַײך אַרױסגעצױגן פֿון אונטער די לאַסטן פֿון מצרים.
ז 16 און זאָלסט זאָגן צו אים: יהוה, דער גאָט פֿון די עבֿרים, האָט מיך געשיקט צו דיר, אַזױ צו זאָגן: לאָז אַװעק מײַן פֿאָלק, זײ זאָלן מיר דינען אין דער מידבר; און זע, האָסט ניט צוגעהערט ביז אַהער.
ט 13 און גאָט האָט געזאָגט צו משהן: פֿעדער זיך אין דער פֿרי, און שטעל זיך פֿאַר פּרעהן, און זאָג צו אים: אַזױ האָט געזאָגט יהוה דער גאָט פֿון די עבֿרים: לאָז אַװעק מײַן פֿאָלק, זײ זאָלן מיר דינען.
Without Jews there can be no Jewish God.
if we, forbid! were to leave the world,
the light of your shabby tent would go out.
For ever since Abraham recognized you within the cloud,
you have glowed upon all Jewish faces
and radiated from all Jewish eyes.
Therefore we molded you in our image.
in each land, in each city,
there was a stranger with us, too—
the Jewish God.
And each smashed head
is a desecrated divine shard
for we were your shining vessel,
the token of your tangible miracle.
And now, our dead heads
may be counted in the millions.
The stars are vanishing about you.
The perception of you darkens
and your reign will soon cease.
Burned is all Jewish sowing and tillage.
Dews weep on dead grasses.
Jewish dream and Jewish truth dishonored—
they perish as one.
Entire congregations sleep:
infants, women,
the young and the old.
Even your pillars,
the rooted Thirty-Six Just,
sleep a dead, an everlasting sleep.
Who will vision you?
Who will remember?
Who will negate you?
Who will yearn for you?
Who will move toward you on a nostalgic bridge,
away from you—in order to return?
The night is eternal for a people that is no more.
Heaven and earth are erased.
The light in your shabby tent dims,
the final Jewish hour flickers,
Jewish God, you are scarcely here.
Tr. Etta Blum, Jacob Glatstein: Poems, Tel Aviv, 1970
on yidn
on yidn vet nisht zayn keyn yidisher got.
geyen mir, kholile, avek fun der velt,
farlesht zikh dos likht fun dayn orem getselt.
vayl zint Avrom hot dikh in volkn derkent,
hostu oyf ale yidishe penimer gebrent,
fun ale yidishe oygn geshtralt,
un mir hobn dikh gefuremt in undzer geshtalt.
in yedn land, in yeder shtot
iz mit undz oykh geve a ger
der yidisher got.
un yeder tseshmeterter yidisher kop
iz a farshemter, tsebrokhenen, getlekher top,
vayl mir zaynen geven dayn likhtik gefes,
der vortseykhn fun dayn mamosh|esdikn nes.
itst tseyln zikh in di milyonen
undzere toyte kep.
s’leshn zikh arum dir shtern.
dos gedekhenish fun dir vert fartunklt,
dayn malkhes vet bald oyfhern.
der gantser yidisher farzey un farflants
iz farbrent.
oyf toyte grozn veynen di toyen.
der yidisher kholem un di yidishe vor geshendt —
zey shtarbn in eynem.
s’shlofn eydes gantse,
eyfe|lekh, froyen,
yunge-layt un zkeynem.
afile dayne zayln, di feldzn,
di shtamike lamed-vov,
shlofn a toytn, an eybikn shlof.
ver vet dikh kholem|en?
ver gedenken?
ver vet dikh leykenen,
ver vet dikh benken?
ver vet tsu dir, oyf a farbenkter brik,
avek fun dir, kedey tsu kumen tsurik?
di nakht iz eybik far a toyt folk.
himl un erd opgevisht.
s’lesht zikh dos likht in dayn orem getselt.
s’flemlt di letste yidishe sho,
yidisher got, bist shoyn bald nishto.
Yankev glatshteyn, shtralndike yidn, nyu-york, 1946
Arn Glants-Leyeles, Ekhod
For a biography of Arn Glants-Leyeles in English, click here.
For a biography of Arn Glants-Leyeles in Yiddish, see below, after the poem.
6 2And God spoke unto Moses, and said unto him: ‘I am the LORD;
7. 5And the Egyptians shall know that I am the LORD, when I stretch forth My hand upon Egypt, and bring out the children of Israel from among them.’
ו 2 און גאָט האָט גערעדט צו משהן, און האָט צו אים געזאָגט: איך בין יהוה;
ז 5 און די ִמצרים װעלן װיסן, אַז איך בין יהוה, װען איך װעל אױסשטרעקן מײַן האַנט אױף מצרים, און װעל אַרױסציִען די קינדער פֿון ישׂראל פֿון צװישן זיי.
אחד
דער הימל האָט געטוליעט די ערד.
די ערד האָט געענטפֿערט מיט גלוסטיקן עכאָ:
א——חד!
The sky snuggled up to the earth.
The earth responded with a longed-for echo.
Ekhod. One.
The wind whispered to the flower.
Shyly, at the side its echo gurgled:
E——khod!
The soul entered into the body.
Both trembledwith hymn and with echo.
E——khod!
The soul left the body.
Body to earth, soul to sun both echoed:
E——khod!
Man approached his people:
“Who are you? Who am I? an echo breathed deeply:
E——khod!
The People were exterminated in anguish.
The anguish felt sadly, wept, “Why?”
Quieter than a sigh there echoed an echo:
E——khod!
Tr. Sheva Zucker
ekhod
der himl hot getulyet di erd.
di erd hot geentfert mit glustikn ekhoL
e——khod!
der vint hot gesheptshet tsu der blum.
shemevdik, zaytik hot gerizlt ir ekho: e——khod!
di zel iz arayn in dem guf.
s’hobn beyde getsitert mit himen un mit ekho
e——khod!
di zel iz aroys fun dem guf.
guf tsu erd, zel tsu zun hobn beyde ge|ekhot:
e——khod!
der mentsh iz tsugefaln tsu zayn folk:
“ver bistu? ver ikh?” tif hot geotemt an ekho:
e——khod!
dos folk hot ge|umkumt in payn.
di payn hot ge|umert, geyomert: “far vos?”
Shtiler fun a zifts hot ge|ekhot an ekho:
e——khod! arn glants-leyeles, Bam fus fun barg, 1957
THIS WEEK Avrom Sutzkever, פֿון אַ פֿאַרלוירענער פּאָעמע, From a Lost Poem
Avrom Reyzen, שווימט דאָס קעסטל, The Little Basket Floats
Meylekh Ravitsh, צװעלף שורות װעגן סנה, Twelve Lines about the Burning Bush
Malke Kheyfets-Tuzman, טאַטע זיסער, Sweet Father
Avrom Sutskever, Fun a farloyrener poeme
For a biography of the poet Avrom Sutzkever in English, click here.
For a biography of the poet Avrom Sutzkever in Yiddiish, click here.
1: 22And Pharaoh charged all his people, saying: ‘Every son that is born ye shall cast into the river, and every daughter ye shall save alive.’
FROM A LOST POEM
Mama,
I’m sick,
My soul, scabby, and,
maybe,
even more,
a yellowmadness.
And the heal-all of your kiss
is too holy
even to inspire
the source of my mounds.
But if it’s true
you love me, as always
second only to God,
my last plea and commandment is:
Choke me!
Choke with those very fingers,
motherly fingers,
that played along
mywillow cradle.
Will mean
to me, your love is strong, like death;
will mean
to me, you entrusted your love;
and I will turn
into before-my-birth
and be and not be
like a star
in water.
Vilna Ghetto
Tr. Richard J. Fein, The Full Pomegranate: Poems of Avrom Sutzkever, SUNY Press, 2019 By permission of the translator
fun a farloyrener poeme
mame,
kh’bin krank.
mayn neshome iz kretsik.
un efsher nokh mer:
s’iz a geler shigoenshegoen.
un der zalb fun dayn kush
iz tsu heylik, er zol
mir bahoykhn tsu mol
mayne vundike dnoen.
nor oyb dos iz vor,
az du libst mikh vi shtendik
dem tsveytn nokh got —
iz mayn letster gebet un gebot:
— dershtik mikh!
dershtik mit di mamishe finger
vos hobn geshpilt
oyf mayn verbenem vigl.
vet meynen:
dayn libshaft iz shtark vi der toyt.
vet meynen:
du host mir dayn libshaft fartroyt.
un ikh vel farkern
in eyder-mayn-vern
un zayn un nit zayn
vi a shtern
in vaser. vilner geto lider fun yam-hamoves
Avrom Reyzen, Shvmit dos kestl, sung by Alexander Botwinik, on Yiddish: An Introduction to the Language, Literature & Culture, Vol. II by Sheva Zucker
2:3 And when she could not longer hide him, she took for him an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and with pitch; and she put the child therein, and laid it in the flags by the river’s brink.
The little basket floats on the river
On the great Nile.
The basket floats calmly and smoothly,
The basket floats quietly.
And the waves flow quietly
Flow tenderly and mild;
As if to keep themselves
From hurting the child.
The little basket floats on the river
On the great Nile.
The basket floats calmly and smoothly,
The basket floats quietly.
And the waves flow quietly
Flow tenderly and mild;
As if to keep themselves
From hurting the child.
Oh the waves, you know, are
Not like the evil Pharaoh.
They will not drown
The redeemer of the slaves. Tr. Chana and Malke Gottlieb, Yontefdike Teg: Song Book for the Yiddish Holidays, Workmen’s Circle
shvimt dos kestl
shvimt dos kestl oyfn taykh,
oyfn groysn nil.
shvimt dos kestl ruik, glaykh,
shvimt dos kestl shtil.
un di khvalyes geyen shtil,
geyen tsart un lind,
vi zey voltn hitn zikh
ton a leyd dem kind.
o, di khvalyes zaynen dokh
nisht vi Pare shlekht.
nisht dertrinken veln zey
Meshiekhn fun knekht.
Avrom reyzen, muzik: mikhl gelbart
Meylekh Ravitsh, Tsvelf shures vegn sne
To read a biography of Meylekh Ravitsh in English, click here.
To read a biography of Meylekh Ravitsh in Yiddish, click here.
32 And the angel of the LORD appeared unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush; and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed.
האָב איך טאַקע אומזיסט אין די טעג געהאָפֿט, אין די נעכט געװאַרט?
און דו װעסט ביז דער לעצטער רגע בלײַבן געטלעך־גרױזאַם און האַרט?
דײַן פּנים טױב װי שטומער שטײן, װי קיזלשטײן בלינד־אײַנגעשפּאַרט?
נישט אומזיסט איז אײנער פֿון די טױזנט נעמען דײַנע — דאָרן, דאָרן דו פֿון מײַן גײַסט אוןפֿלײש און בײן,
שטעכנדיק — נישט אױסצורײַסן, ברענענדיק — נישט אױסצולעשן,
אַ רגע נישט פֿאַרגעסן — אַן אײביקײט נישט צו פֿאַרשטײן.
מלך ראַװיטש
TWELVE LINES ABOUT THE BURNING BUSH
What’s going to be the end for both of us —God?
Are you really going to let me die like this
and really not tell me the big secret?
Must I really become dust, gray dust, and ash, black ash,
while the secret, which is closer than my shirt, than my skin,
still remains secret, though it’s deeper in me than my own heart?
And was it really in vain that I hoped by day and waited by night?
And will you, until the very last moment, remain godlike-cruel and hard?
Your face deaf like dumb stone, like cement, blind-stubborn?
Not for nothing is one of your thousand names—thorn, you thorn in myspirit and flesh and bone,
piercing me—I can’t tear you out; burning me—I can’t stamp you out,
moment I can’t forget, eternity I can’t comprehend. Tr. Ruth Whitman, An Anthology of Modern Yiddish Poetry, Selected and translated by Ruth Whitman, Workman’s Circle, 1979
tsvelf shures vegn sne
iz vozhe vet zayn der sof mit undz beydn — got?
vest mikh take lozn shtarbn ot azoy
un take mir nisht oyszogn dem groysn sod?
muz ikh take vern frier shtoyb, vos iz groy, ash, vos iz shvarts?
un der groyser sod, vos iz neenter vi mayn hemd, vi mayn hoyt,
vet alts blaybn sod, khotsh s’iz tifer in mir vi dos same harts?
hob ikh take umzist in di teg gehoft, in di nekht gevart?
un du vest biz der letster rege blaybn getlekh-groyzam un hart?
dayn ponem toyb vi shtumer shteyn, vi kizlshteyn blind-ayngeshpart?
nisht umzist iz eyner fun di toyznt nemen dayne — dorn, dorn du fun mayn gayst un fleysh un beyn,
shtekhndik — nisht oystsuraysn, brenendik — nisht oystsuleshn,
a rege nisht fargesn — an eybikeyt nisht tsu farshteyn. Meylekh ravitsh
Malke Kheyfets-Tuzman, Tate ziser
For a biography of Malke Kheyfets-Tuzman in English, click here.
For a biography of Malke Kheyfets-Tuzman in Yiddish, click here.
טאַטע זיסער
און איך רוף אים
טאַטע זיסער
כאָטש איך געדענק ניט דעם טאַטן.
And I call him
“sweet father”
although I don’t remember
a father.
Still, I can’t help remembering
something:
a thorn,
a fire,
thunder,
a mountain,
and something like a voice.
When it seems to me
I hear his voice,
I quickly cry out:
“Here I am!
Here I am, sweet Father!”
When a father leaves,
he is still a father.
And I won’t stop missing him
and crying out
“Here I am!”
until he hears,
remembers,
and calls my name,
speaking to me
through fire. Tr. Marcia Falk, With Teeth in the Earth: Selected Poems of Malka Heifetz Tussman, Translated, edited, and introduced by Marcia Falk, Wayne State University Press, 1992.
tate ziser
un ikh ruf im
tate ziser
khotsh ikh gedenk nit dem tatn.
dokh epes gedenkt zikh:
a dorn,
a fayer, a duner,
a barg
un epes a kol.
ven mir dakht zikh
ikh her zayn kol
bald shray ikh:
do bin ikh!
do bin ikh, tate ziser!
az a tate farlozt
iz er alts nokh a tate
un ikh vel nit oyfhern benken
un shrayen
“do bin ikh”
biz er vet derhern,
vet zikh dermonen
un rufn mayn nomen
un reydn tsu mir
durkh fayer.
Malke Kheyfets-tuzman
THIS WEEK
Itsik Manger, יעקבֿ אָבֿינו האָט עגמת־נפֿש פֿון זײַנע קינדער, The Patriarch Jacob Has Aggravation from His Children
Rokhl Korn, כ’האָב שױן מער קײן טענות, I Have No More Complaints
Itsik Manger, Yankev Ovinu hot games-nefesh fun zayne kinder
For a biography of the poet Itzik Manger, click here.
For a biography of Manger in Yiddish, click here.
All of chapter 49 in which Yankev blesses his son is appropriate but particularly the following verses:
3Reuben, thou art my first-born,
My might, and the first-fruits of my strength;
The excellency of dignity, and the excellency of power. 4Unstable as water, have not thou the excellency;
Because thou wentest up to thy father’s bed;
Then defiledst thou it—he went up to my couch. 5Simeon and Levi are brethren;
Weapons of violence their kinship. 6Let my soul not come into their council;
Unto their assembly let my glory not be not united;
For in their anger they slew men, And in their self-will they houghed oxen. 7Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce,
And their wrath, for it was cruel;
I will divide them in Jacob,
And scatter them in Israel 8Judah, thee shall thy brethren praise;
Thy hand shall be on the neck of thine enemies;
Thy father’s sons shall bow down before thee. 9Judah is a lion’s whelp;
From the prey, my son, thou art gone up.
He stooped down, he couched as a lion,
And as a lioness; who shall rouse him up?
ער הײבט זיך אױף. די לופֿט איז שאַרף,
ס’איז שױן צײַט צום שלאָפֿן גײן,
די בנים װעלן מסתּמא שפּעט
קומען אַהײם צו גײן.
איציק מאַנגער, מדרש איציק
THE PATRIARCH JACOB HAS AGGRAVATION FROM HIS CHILDREN
The patriarch Jacob is sitting, old and weary
On the grassy bank at the end of the day,
His bones are really hurting him,
May no Jew feel this way.
Since early dawn his darling sons Have been off in the field with the sheep: “Oh, dear God, these sons of mine
Have made my world turn bleak.
Not long ago I caught
my oldest son with Bilhah in the biblical sense.
Can a father really forgive
A child who’s committed such an offense?
Well and them — the other two,
Such a desecration of God’s name —
They have utterly destroyed
The holy community of Schechem.
Well, and Judah, that lovely lion
With that harlot he met that day —
it was just so close and to Istanbul
They would have been on their way.
Just lucky that one of them
Was a least a somewhat decent guy
That’s why I had a silken shirt sewn for him
For the Purim holiday.
And Jacob lifts his eyes:
Is he mistaken? Oh, can it be?
He sees Mother Rachel walking
Clearly, in reality.
She walks with quiet silken steps
And approaches nearer and nearer,
She moves her lips, he listens intently,
But, alas, he cannot hear her.
She winks at him with her kerchief:
“Auf wiédersehen!” – and she’s out of sight,
As if she herself had only been
A breath of wind at night.
The Patriarch Jacob sighs heavy and deeply:
“What a fool a dream can be —
Why doesn’t the corpse take with it
The longing and misery?
He gets up, the air is sharp
It’s time to go to sleep,
His sons will likely come home late
Given the schedule they keep.
Itsik Manger, medresh Itsik Tr. Sheva Zucker
Yankev ovinu hot agmes-nefesh fun zayne kinder
Yankev ovinu zitst alt un mid
oyf der grozbank far nakht,
er filt di beyner tuen im vey,
nisht far keyn shum yid gedakht.
di bonem zenen fun gants kayor
avek mit di shof in feld:
“oy, gotenyu, di dozike zin
farumern mir di velt.
ot hob ikh do nisht lang gepakt
dem bkhor bay bilhen in bet.
tsi ken den a tate moykhl zayn
a kind aza min khet?
nu un zey — di andere tsvey,
aza min khilel-hashem —
zey hobn khorev venekhrev gemakht
di kehile kedoyshe Shekhem.
nu, un Yehude, der vazhner leyb,
mit der zoyne oyfn veg —
s’hot gehaltn oyf a hor
zey zoln keyn stambul avek.
a shtikl glik, vos eyner fun zey
iz khotshbe a shtikl layt,
derfar hob ikh im oyfgeneyt
oyf Purim a hemdl fun zayd”.
un Yankev heybt di oygn oyf:
tsi hor er a toyes? neyn!
er zet befeyresh un oyf der vor
di muter Rokhl geyn.
zi geyt mit shtile zaydene trit
un kumt alts neenter tsu im.
zi bavegt di lipn. er hert zikh ayn,
nor s’dergeyt nisht tsu im ir shtim.
ot vinkt zi mitn tikhl tsu im:
“oyf viderzen!” — un farshvindt,
vi zi aleyn volt nor geven
an otem funem vint.
Yankev ovinu ziftst shver un tif:
“a kholem iz take a nar —
far vos zhe nemt nisht mit dos mes
di benkshaft un dem tsar?”
er heybt zikh oyf. di luft iz sharf,
s’iz shoyn tsayt tsum shlofn geyn,
di bonim veln mistome shpet
kumen aheym tsu geyn.
Itsik Manger, Medresh itsik
Rokhl Korn, Kh’hob shoyn mer kin Taynes
47: 29And the time drew near that Israel must die; and he called his son Joseph, and said unto him: ‘If now I have found favour in thy sight, put, I pray thee, thy hand under my thigh, and deal kindly and truly with me; bury me not, I pray thee, in Egypt.
48: 21And Israel said unto Joseph: ‘Behold, I die; but God will be with you, and bring you back unto the land of your fathers.
Rokhl Korn
For a biography of Rokhl Korn, click here.
For a biography of Rokhl Korn in Yiddish, click here.
כ’האָב שױן מער קײן טענות
כ’האָב שױן מער קײן טענות צו קײנעם,
כ’האָב אַפֿילו קײן טענות צו זיך —
עפּעס אַלץ איז געשען אַזױ פּלוצעם,
עפּעס אַלץ איז געשען אַזױ גיך,
װי אין פֿאַרװירטן געאײַל.
I have no more complaints against anyone,
Not even against myself —
Somehow everything happened so suddenly,
Somehow everything happened so fast,
As if in a mad mad rush.
A life has gone by, just like that,
Days basted together
For now.
On the lash of time
A drop
Quivers, ready to fall —
A glance full of wonder,
A smile
Weeps into
The foggy distance.
Rokhl Korn, Tr. Mayer Landau and Sheva Zucker, Rachel Korn: Selected Poems, 1986
kh’hob shoyn mer keyn taynes
kh’hob shoyn mer keyn taynes tsu keynem,
kh’hob afile keyn taynes tsu zikh —
epes alts iz geshen azoy plutsem,
epes alts iz geshen azoy gikh,
vi in farvirtn geayl.
s’iz a lebn farbay, ot azoy zikh,
farstrigevet teg
oyf dervayl.
oyf der vie fun tsayt
a tropn
tsitert tsum faln greyt —
a farvunderter blik,
a shmeykhl
veynt zikh arayn
in der farneplter vayt.
8 november 1972
Rokhl korn, farbitene vor, tel-oviv, 1977
WEEK 11
Ayde Maze, אַ געבעט פֿון אַ פֿרוי, A Woman’s Prayer
Rokhl Korn, אַ בריװ פֿון אוזבעקיסטאַן, A Letter from Uzbekistan
Ayde Maze, A gebet fun a froy
44:27 Your servant my father then said to us, You know that of the two my wife bore me, 28 one is gone from my side, and I said, “Surely He’s been ripped to shreds.” I haven’t seen him to this day.
איך װײס דעם ניגון פֿון מער װי אײן ליד
נאָר איצט בין איך מידער װי מיד,
און װיל װײַט און װיל שטילקײט און רו,
קום: מאַך די אױגן מיר צו. נײַע לידער, מאָנטרעאָל 1941
A WOMAN’S PRAYER
God, take me away from this world
to a better and quieter world,
where a tent is prepared for me
in deeps hidden from care and confusion.
You have led me by the hand
in this circus of living lands,
my dissolution hanging by a thread.
Enough. I want to return.
It has become more laughable than hard.
What if I know the taste of tears of all kinds,
of hurt and joy, building up and disruption?
Enough. I no longer want any of it.
I am a woman who knows her origin
and has kept the bit tight between her teeth.
What if the heart leaps up like a frightened lamb?
At night my tears put out the flame.
I am a married woman.
My husband and I together drag the yoke.
I behind a barbed fence at home,
he like a blundering ship at sea.
Each of us sows his own isolation.
One at home behind the menacing fence,
the other on the winding roads,
earning his bread like a blind wanderer.
I am a mother. I have given birth.
Life came out of me and I lost it,
and the grave bound me to itself
until I became one with it.
But the will of your hand was:
“Set a cradle in the deeps,
you will rock your child there
when you lie there, and it will be like home.”
I know how to sing more than one song.
But I am more tired than tired now.
I want to be far away and I want silence and rest.
Come close my eyes.
Tr. Seymour Levitan, Outlook, Vol. 49 No. 2 Mar/Apr 2011
A GEBET FUN A FROY
Got, nem mikh tsu fun der velt,
Tsu dayn beserer ruiker velt,
Vu s’vart greyt in der tif mayn getselt,
Fun zorgikn tuml farshtelt.
Genug mikh gefirt bay der hant
In tsirk fun dayn lebndik land,
Mikh shvindlt der umgeyn oyf shtrik,
Genug shoyn – ikh vil shoyn tsurik.
s’iz mer lekherlekh vi es iz shver,
Un az ikh veys shoyn dem tam fun mer vi eyn trer?
Fun veytik un freyd, fun boy un tseshter,
Genug zol zayn, kh’vil shoyn nit mer!
Ikh bin a froy vos ken ir shtam
Un halt vi mit tseyn arum zikh dem tsam
Khotsh es shpringt dos harts vi a tseshrokene lam,
Ikh lesh mit trern durkh nekht dem flam.
Mir hobn banand undzer elnt gezeyt,
Ikh in der heym hinter shtekhikn ployt,
Er iber vegn krum un fardreyt,
Vi a blinder geyer, zukht zayn broyt.
Ikh bin a mame vos hot geboyrn,
Lebn gegebn un tsurik farlorn,
Es hot mikh yene grub bashvorn;
Biz ikh bin mit im, eyns gevorn.
s’hot dayn hant azoy bafoyln,
shtel avek a vig in heyln,
Vest dayn kind dort kenen vign,
Vet dir heymlekh zayn dos lign.
Ikh veys dem nign fun mer vi eyn lid
Nor itst bin ikh mider vi mid,
Un vil vayt un vil shtilkayt un ru,
Kum: makh di oygn mir tsu.
Ayde Maze, Naye lider, Montreal, 1941
Rokhl Korn, A briv fun Uzbekistan
R-L: Montreal writers Rokhl Korn, Maza and Kadya Molodowsky
Gen 45:6 For these two years the famine (hunger) has been in the land: and there are five years yet to come, in which there will neither be sowing nor harvesting.
47: 19 Why should we die before your eyes, both we and our farmland? Buy us and our farmland for food, so that we and our farmland will be slaves to Pharaoh, and give [us] seed, so that we live and not die, and the soil will not lie fallow.”
My friend across faraway seas,
I’m writing this letter to you —
It is the month of March in the land of Uzbek,
The time when the almond tree and apricot blossom
in every lane and every wall,
But how do I find the word so that you will understand me?
My hand is weary, the skin on it wrinkles
And stiffens like an empty sack,
And my greatest dream is —
A loaf of bread.
When I went out into the street,
just across from the house
Lay the carcass of a dog.
The spring wind played
With his rotting fur.
A cart just happened to drive by
With a white coffin over its wheel.
A shriveled old grandma stopped walking
And crossed herself with her dry hand
Slowly and for a long time.
“Hunger, hunger is in the land again —
Only yesterday he played with the child,
I know him, I know him, it’s my neighbor’s dog.
And look at the coffin, see its size and length,
Oh, if only these were beds, tables, benches —
And do you think this person stretched out in the white box
Died, God forbid, of sickness?
It’s hunger, hunger in the land.
And you, my sweet dove, show me your hand —
How long do you think you’ll be walking around on this earth?
I can see that your step is already heavy with death.”
The sun was shining brightly,
I was standing still
Listening to the old woman’s words.
I was supposed to write you a letter
My friend —
Do you remember my wild joy
The first springtime
When the earth smelled of fresh grass,
And my lips, like buds on a tree
Were filled with juices of longing
And blossoming dreams,
Do you remember, My friend?
And today —
Today I would like to crawl into a hole somewhere
Just like an animal when it feels that the hour of death is near,
And my greatest dream is still —
A crust of bread.
Fergana, Uzbekistan (Central Asia) March 1942
Tr. Mayer Landau and Sheva Zucker, Rachel Korn: Selected Poems, 1986
a briv fun uzbekistan
mayn fraynt iber vayte, vayte yam|en,
ikh shrayb tsu dir ot dem briv —
s’iz khoydesh merts in uzbekishn land,
di tsayt, ven s’blit der mandlboym un der uryuk
in yedn lukl, bay a yeder vant,
nor vi nemt men dos vort du zolst mikh farshteyn?
mayn hant iz mid, es marshtshet zikh oyf ir di hoyt
un shtart avek vi a leydiker zak,
un s’iz mayn grester troym —
a labn broyt.
ven kh’bin aroys in gas,
iz grod akegniber hoyz
gelegn di neveyle fun a hunt,
s’hot mit zayn oysgekrokhener fel
geshpilt der frilingdiker vint.
farbaygeforn iz a vogn grod
mit vayser trumne kver ibern rod.
an alt un tsemorshtshet babkele hot opgeshtelt ir gang
un zikh ge|tseylemt mit ir trikner hant
pamelekh un lang.
“der hunger, hunger iz shoyn vider inem land —
ersht nekhtn hot er zikh geshpilt do mitn kind,
ikh ken im, ken im, s’iz mayn shokhn|s hunt.
un ze di trumne, ze ir greys un leng,
ay, voltn dos gevezn betn, tishn, benk —
un meynst, az der vos ligt in vaysn kastn oysgeshpant
geshtorbn iz kholile fun a krenk?
s’iz hunger, hunger inem land.
un du mayn taybele, anu vayz nor dayn hant —
vi lang meynst nokh arumtsugeyn oyf dr’erd?
ikh ze, dayn shrit iz shoyn mit toyt bashvert”.
di zun hot hel geshaynt,
ikh bin geshtanen shtil
un tsu der alters reyd zikh tsugehert.
ikh hob gezolt dir shraybn dokh a briv
mayn fraynt —
gedenkst mayn vilde freyd
in ershter frilings|tsayt,
ven s’hot di erd geshmekt mitn frishn groz,
un s’hobn mayne lipn, vi di knospn fun a boym
zikh ongegosn mit zaftn fun benkshaft
un tseblitn troym,
gedenkst, mayn fraynd?
un haynt —
haynt vil ikh zikh farkrikhn ergets in a lokh
ot, vi a khaye, ven zi filt shoyn noent di sho fun toyt,
un s’iz nokh alts mayn grester kholem —
khotsh a reftl broyt. Fergana, March 1942
WEEK 10
Miryem Ulinover, דער גאָלדענער בעכער, The Golden Goblet
Rokhl Korn, דאָס אַלץ, וואָס קומט מיר צו חלום, Everything I Dream
Rokhl Korn, אַ נײַ קלײד, A New Dress
Miryem Ulinover, Der goldener bekher
44 12And he searched, beginning at the eldest, and leaving off at the youngest; and the goblet was found in Benjamin’s sack.
און דעם קנײטש דעם טיפֿן
קען ער האָבן רק
פֿון אַן אָרט אַ פֿינצטערן
פֿון בנימינס זאַק! מרים אולינאָווער, מרים אולינאָווער, אַ גרוס פֿון דער אַלטער היים: לידער, פּאַריז, 2003
Here is my very literal non-rhyming translation.
THE GOLDEN GOBLET
On the cupboard pane
The charm of Sabbath rests,
There lies the khale knife
With it’s ivory handle.
There the golden goblet
So much in demand in days gone by,
Now so out of use
Has been put away.
One day, they say, it
Knocked into something
And in a dark place
Got a dent.
Everything gets used
And loses its color,
But not the golden goblet
With its deep notch!
Old and holy it sparkles
Out of the cupboard,
Perhaps it is
The cup of Joseph the Righteous…
And the deep dent
It can have only
From a dark place
In Benjamin’s sack!
Tr. Sheva Zucker
der goldener bekher
oyfn shoybnshenkl
rut der shabes-kheyn,
dort ligt s’moytsey-meser
mitn grif fun beyn.
dort der goldener bekher
far tsaytns gefregt,
mit der tsayt ge|paslt
un avekgeleygt.
er hot on epes, zogt men,
eyn mol ongeklapt
in an ort a finstern
un a kneytsh gekhapt.
opgenutst vert alts
un farlirt zayn farb,
nisht der goldener bekher
mit dem tifn karb!
alt un heylik shimert
er fun shank aroys,
efsher iz es
Yoysef hatsade’s kos…
un dem kneytsh dem tifn
ken er hobn rk
fun an ort a fins|tern
fun Binyomens zak!
Miryem Ulinover
Rokhl Korn, Dos alts, vos kumt mir tsu kholem
41:7And the thin ears swallowed up the seven rank and full ears. And Pharaoh awoke, and, behold, it was a dream. 8And it came to pass in the morning that his spirit was troubled; and he sent and called for all the magicians of Egypt, and all the wise men thereof; and Pharaoh told them his dream; but there was none that could interpret them unto Pharaoh.
32And for that the dream was doubled unto Pharaoh twice, it is because the thing is established by God, and God will shortly bring it to pass.
Everything I dream
must begin and end —
then why am I between,
waiting for a lost voice,
wound and bound and cobwebbed
in a time gone grey,
while the breath of eternity
rifles through me like the pages of a book?
And at the margin of the pages
is the purple light
of all things not yet come into being,
all things passing away.
My dream hovers at the head
of grief that threads the fears
of a sightless world and leads it
to the genesis of human fears. Rokhl Korn Tr. Seymour Levitan, Paper Roses: Rokhl Korn/פּאַפּירענע רויזן, Aya Press, 1985
dos alts, vos kumt mir tsu kholem
dos alts, vos kumt mir tsu kholem
hot dokh ergets an onheyb, a sof —
to far vos shtey ikh bloyz in der mitn
un vart oyf farblondzhetn ruf?
un ver farvebt un farshpinvebt
in der gro gevorener tsayt,
beys s’bletert mikh, vi a seyfer
der otem fun eybikeyt.
un oyfn rand fun di bleter
flamikt mit purpurner shayn
dos alts, vos iz nokh nisht gevorn,
dos alts, vos iz erev fargeyn.
es shtelt zikh der kholem tsukopns
dem troyer, vos odert zikh ayn
in a blinder velt un firt zi
tsum breyshis/breyshes fun mentshlekh geveyn.
Rokhl korn, di gnod fun vort, 1968
A NEW DRESS by Rokhl Korn. Recording to follow after Jan. 15, 2025
41: 42And Pharaoh took off his signet ring from his hand, and put it upon Joseph’s hand, and arrayed him in vestures of fine linen, and put a gold chain about his neck.
Today for the first time
after seven long years
I put on
a new dress.
But it’s too short for my grief,
too narrow for my sorrow,
and each white-glass button
like a tear
flows down the folds
heavy as a stone.
Stockholm, 1947
Rokhl Korn
Tr. Ruth Whitman, An Anthology of Modern Yiddish Poetry, Selected and translated by Ruth Whitman, Workmen’s Circle, 1979
a nay kleyd
ikh hob zikh ongeton haynt,
tsum ershtn mol
nokh zibn lange yor
a nay kleyd.
nor s’iz tsu kurts far mayn troyer
un tsu eng far mayn layd,
un siz a yeder vays-glezerner knop,
vi a trer,
vos flist fun di faldn arop
farshteynert un shver.
Rokhl korn
THIS WEEK Avrom Sutzkever, איך ליג אין אַן אָרון, I Lie in a Coffin
Itsik Manger, יעקבֿ אָבֿינו לערנט מיט זײַנע זין „מכירת יוסף”, Jacob Teaches the Story of Joseph to His Sons
Avrom Sutzkever, Ikh lig in an orn
37:24 Then they took him and threw him into a pit. The pit was empty; there was no water in it.
לז 24 און זײ האָבן אים גענומען, און האָבן אים אַרײַנגעװאָרפֿן אין דער גרוב. און די גרוב איז געװען לײדיק, קײן װאַסער איז אין איר ניט געװען.
For a biography of the poet Avrom Sutzkever, click here.
For a biography of Sutzkever in Yiddish, click here.
הינטערגרונט פֿון סוצקעווערס ליד „איך ליג אין אַן אָרון”
BACKGROUND TO SUTZKEVER’S POEM “I LIE IN A COFFIN”
The searches had begun in Soltanek. There was nowhere left for me to hide…. I asked Kon (the head of the first Judenrat) for his advice. What should I do? He told me that Maurer had ordered that fifty Jews be held permanently in the courtyard of the Judenrat. He told me that if there were only forty-nine I could stay. We counted. There were exactly fifty. Kon sought a solution. He wanted to save my life. But he could not send one of them away in exchange for me and put them at the mercy of the Jewish snatchers. I saw him struggling and I told him that I would find myself a hiding spot here and that nobody would notice me.
The courtyard was quiet. Prayers could be heard from the open windows of the Mefitsey-Haskole Library. A group of Jews was sitting on the stairs down below. Among them was a student from the Kleyn-Stefin Street yeshiva, a palm-reader, a fortune-teller. The Jews pushed closer to him, wanting to hear his words.
Dusk arrived. I sought out a hiding place. The Burial Society was located in the same courtyard. Some coffins had been left in a corner. I crawled into one of the coffins, closed the lid over my head, lay down, and inhaled the stuffy air. That’s how I composed my poem “I Lie in a Coffin.”
Abraham Sutzkever, From The Vilna Ghetto to Nuremberg: Memoir and Testimony, edited and translated by Justin Cammy, 2021.
I LIE IN A COFFIN
I lie in a coffin
as in clothes made of wood,
here I lie.
Let it be a small boat
on wild stormy waves,
let it be a cradle.
And here,
where bodies have
parted with time,
I call you, sister,
and you hear my voice
from afar.
Suddenly, here in the coffin,
a body is moving. How can it be?
You approach.
And I know you: your eyes
and your breath
and your light.
This, it seems, is the order of things:
here today,
there tomorrow,
and now, in a coffin,
as in clothes made of wood,
still my word sings. Vilna, August 30, 1941 Avrom Sutzkever
Tr. Heather Valencia זינגט נאָך אַלץ מײַן וואָרט/Still My Word Sings: Avrom Sutzkever
Yiddish and English Edited and translated by Heather Valencia
ikh lig in an orn
ikh lig in an orn,
vi in hiltserne kleyder,
ikh lig.
zol zayn s’iz a shifl
oyf shturmishe khvalyes,
zol zayn, s’iz a vig.
un do, vu es hobn zikh gufn
gesheydt mit der tsayt,
ruf ikh dikh, shvester,
un du herst mayn rufn
in vayt.
vos tut zikh in orn a tsapl
a layb umgerikht?
du kumst.
ikh derken dayn shvartsapl,
dayn otem,
dayn likht.
azoy iz a ponem der seyder:
haynt do,
morgn dort,
un itst in an orn,
vi in hiltserne kleyder,
zingt nokh alts mayn vort Avrom Sutskever, Vilne, 30stn oygust, 1941
Itsik Manger, Yankev Ovinu lernt mit zayne zin “mekhires Yoysef”
29: 27Fulfil the week of this one, and we will give thee the other also for the service which thou shalt serve with me yet seven other years.’
35 19And Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath—the same is Beth-lehem. 20And Jacob set up a pillar upon her grave; the same is the pillar of Rachel’s grave unto this day.
37: 3Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, because he was the son of his old age; and he made him a coat of many colours.
37:24 Then they took him and threw him into a pit. The pit was empty; there was no water in it.
37 28And there passed by Midianites, merchantmen; and they drew and lifted up Joseph out of the pit, and sold Joseph to the Ishmaelites for twenty shekels of silver. And they brought Joseph into Egypt.
39: 7And it came to pass after these things, that his master’s wife cast her eyes upon Joseph; and she said: ‘Lie with me.’
41: 18 And, behold, there came up out of the river seven kine, fat-fleshed and well-favoured; and they fed in the reedgrass. 19And, behold, seven other kine came up after them, poor and very ill-favoured and lean-fleshed, such as I never saw in all the land of Egypt for badness.
THIS WEEK Yankev Glatshteyn, עשׂו, Esau
Itsik Manger, דינה בת יעקבֿ גייט אויף אַ ראַנדעוווּ Dina Bas Yankev Goes on a Rendez-vous
Yankev Glatshteyn, Eysev
33: 25And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day. 26And when he saw that he prevailed not against him, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and the hollow of Jacob’s thigh was strained, as he wrestled with him.
33.4 And Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck, and kissed him; and they wept.
4:15 And the LORD said unto him: ‘Therefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold.’ And the LORD set a sign for Cain, lest any finding him should smite him.
As Esau wept upon his brother’s neck,
a great light streamed into his face.
Jacob bowed, called out in fear:
“Behold, God flames upon your countenance.
“Verily, brother.
When, nightlong, you struggled
with the angel,
I too fought a hard battle.
All day I marched toward you like Cain
until I sensed a dire lament
redeeming me from murder.
A dreadful bellowing besieged me then.
Great giant,
you conquered yourself.
So long as Abel lives
I will give you of my light,
I will grant you my sign:
Here goes Esay
who was almost Cain.” Yankev Glatshteyn, Father’s Shadow, 1953
Tr. Etta Blum, Jacob Glatstein, Poems, Tel Aviv, 1970
Eysev
ven Eysev hot geveynt oyf zayn bruders haldz,
iz oyf zayn ponem oyfgegangen a groys likht.
Yankev hot zikh gebukt un oysgerufn mit moyre:
ze, got flakert oyf dayn gezikht.
farvor, bruder mayner.
ven du host mitn malekh zikh geranglt a gantse nakht,
hob ikh oykh gekemft a bitere shlakht.
bin ikh dir dokh dem gantsn tog,
antkegn gegangen vi Kayen,
biz kh’hob dershpirt az a biterer geveyn
nemt fun mord mikh laytern un bafrayen.
demolt hot in mir oyfgeshturemt
a moyredik brumen.
groyser giber,
bist zikh aleyn baygekumen,
azoy lang vi Hevl vet lebn,
vel ikh dir mayn likht antlayen.
kh’vel dir shenken mayn tseykhn.
do geyt Eysev.
der shir-gevorener Kayen.
Glatshteyn, Dem tatns shotn, 1953
Itsik Manger, Dine Bas Yankev geyt af a randeyvu
34:1And Dinah the daughter of Leah, whom she had borne unto Jacob, went out to see the daughters of the land.
3And his soul did cleave unto Dinah the daughter of Jacob, and he lovedthe damsel, and spoke comfortingly unto the damsel.
Dina applies her lipstick
On her lips upper and lower,
Her lips poppy red—
Enough, she must go out and explore.
She puts on her straw summer hat,
That matches her summer frock;
She catches a wanton glance in the mirror
Takes her parasol and goes out for a walk.
The town hall clock has struck eight,
That means that the time has come too
To rush to the young men of Shechem
To meet for their rendez-vous.
O Shechem, you beautiful town
Of waltzes, music and light,
For your every park love has a secret,
And every secret means delight.
I’m sick and tired of Father’s house,
Where people do nothing but pray.
Since Mother Rachel has died
All laughter has gone away.
Sadness hangs over the old house
Like a venomous spider so bad
If not for the merry nights in Shechem
She would long ago have gone mad.
O Shechem, you beautiful town
Of waltzes, music and light,
For your every park love has a secret,
And every secret means… delight.
Each secret is near and dear to her
Although she doesn’t know what they mean;
She knows one thing, that the young men Of the town like her and are keen.
But now the first lantern of Shechem begins to shine
And a fiddle wails in the pub
A new waltz by Johann Strauss:
“I long, my heart, my love!”
Tr. by Sheva Zucker
Dine bas-Yankev geyt oyf a randevu
Dine firt mitn lipnshtift
iber di lipn ahin un aher,
di lipn flamen vi royter mon —
genug, men darf nisht mer.
zi tut on dem shtroyenem zumerhut,
vos past tsu ir zumerkleyd;
zi khapt a kuk in shpigl farshayt,
nemt dos zuntikl un geyt.
der rothoyz-zeyger tseylt op akht,
dos meynt, az s’iz shoyn tsayt
tsu ayln zikh tsum randevu
mit di Shkhem|er yunge-layt.
“o, Shkhem, du sheyne freylekhe shtot
fun valtsers, likht un muzik,
far dayn yedn park hot di libe a sod,
un yeder sod meynt glik”.
s’iz ir nimes un mies dem tatns heym,
vu men davnt tog un nakht.
fun zint di muter Rokhl iz toyt
hot dort keyner nisht gelakht.
der umet hengt ibern altn hoyz
vi a groyse giftike shpin.
ven nisht di freylekhe nekht in Shkhem,
volt zi lang arop funem zin.
o, Shkhem, du sheyne freylekhe shtot
fun valtsers, likht un muzik,
far dayn yedn park hot di libe a sod,
un ayeder sod meynt… glik”.
s’iz ir noent un tayer ayeder sod,
khotsh zi veyst nit dem basheyd;
zi veyst nor eyns, az zi gefelt
di Shkhem|er yunge-layt — — —
nor ot likhtikt der ershter lamtern fun Shkhem
un s’khlipet a fidl in shenk
a nayem valtser fun yohan shtraus:
“ikh benk, mayn harts, gedenk!”
Itsik Manger, Medresh Itsik
THIS WEEK Reyzl Zhikhlinski, ביבלישע נאַכט, Biblishe nakht
Khave Rosenfarb, רחל און לאה, Rokhl un Leye
Reyzl Zhikhlinski, Biblishe nakht
29: 25 And it came to pass in the morning that, behold, it was Leah; and he said to Laban: ‘What is this thou hast done unto me? did not I serve with thee for Rachel? wherefore then hast thou beguiled me?’ 26And Laban said: ‘It is not so done in our place, to give the younger before the first- born. 27Fulfil the week of this one, and we will give thee the other also for the service which thou shalt serve with me yet seven other years.’ 30:14And Reuben went in the days of wheat harvest, and found mandrakes in the field, and brought them unto his mother Leah. Then Rachel said to Leah: ‘Give me, I pray thee, of thy son’s mandrakes.’
The night was dark.
The night was deep, without stars.
The wind rustled in the trees.
The wind was looking for Leah.
Jacob buried his face
in Leah’s breast:
—Rachel, Rachel, my wife!
Seven years I have waited for you.
Long were the days,
longer the nights.
So many cold moons
have embraced my body.
Rachel, Rachel, y wife.
Silent was Leah.
With thin, bitter lips
she went to her encounter
with her son Reuben,
Jacob’s firstborn.
The night was already full
of the aroma of the flowers
that were waiting
for Reuben
in the field. Reyzl Zhikhlinski, Silent Doors Tr. Barnett Zumoff, in God Hid His Face: Selected Poems of Rajzel Zychlinski, 1997
biblishe nakht
di nakht iz geven shvarts,
di nakht iz geven tif, on shtern.
der vint hot geroysht tsvishn beymer.
der vint hot gezukht Leyen.
Yankev hot bahaltn dos ponem
in Leyes layb:
— Rokhl, Rokhl, mayn vayb!
zibn yor hob ikh oyf dir gevart.
lang zaynen geven di teg.
lenger nokh di nekht.
azoy fil kalte levones
hobn arumgenumen mayn layb.
Rokhl, Rokhl, mayn vayb.
shtil iz Leye gelegn.
mit dine, bitere lipn
iz zi akegngegangen
ir zun Ruvn|en,
dem bkhor fun Yankev|n.
di nakht iz shoyn ful geven
mitn reyekh fun di blumen,
vos hobn gevart
oyfRuvn|en
in feld. reyzl zhikhlinski, shvaygndike tirn, 1962
Khave Rosenfarb, Rokhl un Leye
29: 16 Now Laban had two daughters: the name of the elder was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. 17And Leah’s eyes were weak; but Rachel was of beautiful form and fair to look upon. 18And Jacob loved Rachel; and he said: ‘I will serve thee seven years for Rachel thy younger daughter.’
Rachel plays on the mandolin
And Leah plays on the flute.
Between them the Shekhina lays out the cards
And seeks an exact account.
Leah will have two eyes that are dim,
but a large and hungry heart.
Rachel will have luck in love
And braids that are darker than dark.
Leah will have passionate dreams,
and on her lips — a trembling song.
But Jacob, the man from distant lands,
will only see that her eyes are not strong.
Rachel will bewitch the foreigner Jacob;
her beauty will be pleasing to him.
So what if she does not have passionate dreams?
At least her eyes are not dim.
Leah will die after a long life,
but her heart’s longing will never abate.
Rachel, sated with love, will die young,
with the black shining still in her plaits.
Rachel plays on the mandolin
and Leah plays on the flute.
Between the two women, the Shekhina is smiling.
She now knows how each life will conclude. Chava Rosenfarb
Tr. Goldie Morgentaler, Chava Rosenfarb, Exile At Last: Selected Poems, edited by Goldie Morgentaler, 2013
Rokhl un Leye
Rokhl shpilt oyf der mandoline
un Leye shpilt oyf der fleyt.
tsvishn zey beyde leygt kortn di shkhine
un zukht a genoyem basheyd.
Leye vet hobn oygn tsvey tribe
un a groys un hungerik harts —
Rokhl vet hobn mazl in libe
un tsep vos zaynen gor shvarts.
Leye vet hobn heyse khaloymes;
oyf lipn — a tsiterdik lid,
nor Yankev, der man fun vayte mekoymes
vet zen, az ir ponem iz trib.
tsu Rokhl|en vet tsien dem man fun mekoymes,
vayl zi farn oyg iz im lib.
iz vos, az zi hot nit keyn heyse khaloymes?
derfar iz ir ponem nit trib.
Leye vet zatkeyt in yorn zikh arbn,
nor hungerik oysgeyn vet s’harts.
Rokhl a zate fun libe vet shtarbn
mit tsep vos zaynen nokh shvarts…
Rokhl shpilt oyf der mandoline
un Leye shpilt oyf der fleyt.
tsvishn zey beyde shmeykhlt di shkhine
zi veyst shoyn genoy dem basheyd. Khave Rosenfarb, Aroys fun Gan-eydn, 1965
For a biography of Kadye Molodowsky see Weeks 3, 5 or 11.
For a biography of Alexander Shpiglblat see Weeks 1 and 2.
