דאָס ליד איז געבליבן
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…
Blue Skies How light are my steps. / Tender winds waft on white wings, / flutter in the blue air, / binding, connecting the skies / to the sunny pavement. Read more…
Lovesongs On the red surface of the still waters / of my melancholy, / your submerged curly black head / came swimming out. Read more…
About Shmuel Zaromb Shmuel Zaromb (1896-1941) was born with the name Moyshe-Tsvi Fayntsayg in Brok, Podlaskie Voivodeship. He was educated in a traditional cheder (Jewish primary school) and later studied at the Ostrow Yeshiva. He went into hiding in the First World War to avoid being drafted, moved to Łomża (Lomzhe), and adopted his new name. He became… Read more…
A Little Letter to Grandma Miryem (Miriam) Ulinover When to my little town I made my wayfor the very last stayyou, my grandmama, showed mesomething quite assuredly… You placed into a bundle,packed up, well-secured –ten needles, a scissor, a thimble,seven spools of thread. “My darling girl”, you softly say,while stroking my face,“Remember, as soon as holes appear,remove the dress and… Read more…
Springtime The water in the well has become much clearer, / the aged linden tree appears to be younger. / I am restless, as solace keeps eluding me, / not certain if I should be crying or singing. Read more…