The Song Remains – דאָס ליד איז געבליבן

The Song Remains

People of the Warsaw Ghetto merged with a map of the Nazi occupation of Poland

דאָס ליד איז געבליבן

Welcome to our collection of Yiddish poems with English translations from Nazi German occupied Poland. We’ll be publishing one new poem per week into 2027, so be sure to subscribe to get free weekly updates.

  • Hershele (Hersh Danilewicz)

    When the boys arrive
    Together with the girls
    Hearts get lit
    And faces glow in flame

    They will play in love
    Couples stroll together
    The little town is blooming
    A new world is here

    Most of them in the forest
    The owner finds that out
    He creates a fuss
    He wants results

    Is the boy a shoemaker
    And the girl a seamstress
    Their bosses come
    And make a fuss

    One takes a little broom
    The other takes a stick
    And they make a torch
    To scare away the youngsters

    Then the boys are chased through the marketplace
    a crowd gathers in wonder
    to watch the children being chased
    and to stress them

    Then quiet settles in
    The town again is quiet
    Old ladies gather to discuss
    And blame the children

    When the discussion quiets down
    The town is paradise once again
    Boys and girls, it’s noticed aren’t
    Seen together tackling

    But the manager’s daughter
    Is never seen anyplace
    And people talk about her
    That she was badly raised…

    (more…)

  • Hersh Danilewicz / Danilevitsh (1882-1941) was born in the countryside of Lipno (Lipne), and then moved to Warsaw. Hershele, as he was known by the people of Warsaw, was encouraged to write as a youth by Y. L. Peretz. He was one of the founders of the Łódź Yiddish Literary Group. He wrote children’s songs, humorous poems, and translations from Polish and Russian to Yiddish. His songs were so popular they were thought to be folk songs. He died of hunger with his wife and two children in the Warsaw Ghetto in 1941. Katsenelson, writing under the pen name of Khayim Goldberg in his poem Di Khronik fun Hershele’s Toit (“The Chronicle of Hershele’s Death”) reports that Hershele left a thousand poems.

    (more…)

  • Miryem (Miriam) Ulinover

    Tell me Bobe dearest wise
    Tell me Beauty Dear
    How this little rose red cherry
    came onto my cheek right here

    (more…)

  • Motl Kozlovski

    Nurses have blue eyes
    like the color of late spring sky

    The dazzle of their white dresses
    cuts through the heavy strange air
    on their lips greets a gentle motherly smile

    (more…)

  • Mordkhe (Mordechai) Gebirtig

    I had a sweet dream
    still feel it so well, peace unfurled
    peace has arrived peace is here
    peace in the whole wide world

    (more…)

  • Moyshe Shimel (Maurycy Szymel)

    It is not now important what anyone says
    the grass is beautiful and sweet is the joy
    of singing.

    (more…)

  • Moyshe Shimel (1903-1942) was born in Lemberg (Lviv /  Lwów), and studied at the Polish language Jewish Humanistic High School. He wrote poetry for Chwila, Lwów’s Polish-language Jewish daily newspaper. He moved to Warsaw in 1930, and began writing poems in Yiddish as well, and publishing his works in Kiev and Palestine.

    When the Nazis arrived in Warsaw, Shimel fled back to Lwów, where he worked in the Judenrat. He is believed to have been murdered in the Lwów Ghetto in 1942.

    (more…)

  • Y L Kohn

    Time ago the street led me into work,
    today work leads me – into the street
    and I drag myself with healthy hands
    like a hundred thousand others, here and there…

    (more…)

  • Miryem (Miriam) Ulinover

    What has happened to my hair
    A wonder suddenly happened there!

    There was a blond knot cold and hard
    and overnight it’s smooth and smart

    (more…)

  • Khayim Semiatitski

    Sleep my child my dear at rest
    your father will no longer sell
    raisins and almonds
    Aye Liew Liew Liew Liew

    On the way he was beaten,
    when riding to the village
    to buy a little calf and corn –
    bloody, beaten he was carried home

    Sun is laughing on your cradle
    but I close doors and windows tight,
    the white sheep ran away in fear
    Aye Liew Liew Liew Liew

    Crying? Hard for you to sleep
    On a little pillow of hard straw?
    the feathers haven’t run away
    bad hands have made it so

    Quietly comes the cow from field
    the little sheep makes happy sounds
    in evening red I will feed you well today
    Aye Liew Liew Liew Liew

    Don’t cry, father did not ride far away
    though his parting was intense
    he only took little with him
    to the country mart

    Sleep my child my dear at rest
    your father will no longer sell
    raisins and almonds
    Aye Liew Liew Liew Liew

    (more…)