דאָס ליד איז געבליבן
I Listened Closely to my Soul I listened closely to my soul, / and heard, from afar, the song / of men striding with purpose, / their steps ringing on the hard earth. Read more…
About Dovid Kenigsberg Dovid Kenigsberg (1891-1942?) was born in Busk, Galicia, and studied on Brody (Brod) and Czernowitz (Chernivtsi). He worked as a bookkeeper in Lwów (Lvov / Lviv / Lemberg). His first piece was printed in the collection Yungt in 1909, and he published his first poetry collection Lider, an 1912. Read more…
A morning Morning hangs on the windows, blue / and fragrant with lilac and jasmine. / My lips tremble and pay quiet tribute to / everything that is young and green. Read more…
The Little Town A little town full of life’s travail / escorts the procession to the grave; / and a world is roused by a mother’s lamentation: — My Feygele, where are you being taken? Read more…
Warsaw The yoke is upon you, city, / forged to your stony shoulders, / for you’re hitched to hundreds of cities / and a violent con, a flogger, holds the reins. Read more…
Landscapes On the downy snow-bed / nights lie and serenely sleep, / in stalls, cows doze … Read more…
At the Tips of Trees At the tips of trees, days die, / at the tips of trees, magnificent dawns arise – / I am also a tree – and it will be the same for me. Read more…
Like a Sick Bird Like a sick bird / returned to its former nest, / Mother, I arrived from the wide world / for your simple sustenance. Read more…
Wind in the Woods The bleak autumn wind keens, / keeping the trees, naked and grey, from sleep. / It has tangled in their branches, / unable to escape. / The trees, powerless to offer release, / bestowed all their gold in a heap / for the wind to doze off in their embrace. Read more…
No Home From leaf to leaflet, from little straws and clay / I made myself a pallet, built myself a home. / Now wicked breezes blow – the frosts are on their way, / now it’s wretchedness and woe — / driven from our nest. Read more…