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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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!

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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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

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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.”

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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.

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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.

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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:

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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...

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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!