דאָס ליד איז געבליבן
And When the Forest Turns Green And when the forest turns bright and green, / and the sun climbs to mid-sky, / all the woodcutters will abide / and see the blooming of every tree. Read more…
The Silent Boulder Yakov Shudrikh Capped and wrapped in a blanket of white,the gray boulder—a silent giant—sleeps.Below him, hushed and slender streams murmur,while along his back tread my feet. I clamber over him and hear distant echoesrumbling through the solitude of the woods.Birds chatter, and branches answer,but the boulder remains petrified and cold. The day moves silently in… Read more…
פֿאַר אײַער אַנטדעקונג און הנאה For Your Discovery and Enjoyment NOVEMBER 1, 2026 11 AM PST; 2 PM EST; 2 NOVEMBER 2026 8AM NZDTONLINE – IN YIDDISH and English אָנלײַן – אויף ייִדיש Register at: https://us02web.zoom.us/meeting/register/ngV2A707SVWyjBrPnyH-UQ איז אַ פּאָרטאַל צו אַ װײניקער־באַװוּסטער װעלט ייִדישער פּאָעזיע. דאָס ליד איז געבליבן ברענגט צו אַ װײַטערן עולם ענגלישע איבערזעצונגען פֿון 160 האַרציק־געזאַמלטע װערק… Read more…
Border Guard to Border Guard Border guard, in the tenderness of night, / when fiery stars fall from the sky / and homesickness grips the heart— / take care not to fall asleep. Read more…
October We march in abandoned joy / into the newborn dawn. / Happy holiday, Moscow! / Bialystok sends its regards! Read more…
I Would Be a Father By Now By now, I would be a father, / bouncing a child on my sturdy knee, my nose nuzzled against its downy body, as to a full-blown, fragrant rose. Read more…
To My Mother Mama, I no longer love winter / or white snow as I once did, / when the days seem to rise / from the fields Read more…
The Signals New times are coming – strange new times / unlike any we have ever known, / and wonders must before your eyes unfold / that people will point to for a long time. Read more…
Hey, You Wide Volin Country Roads Hey, you country roads, my country roads – lengthy, wide Volin roads, / forever speaking to my heart, forever in my thoughts! Read more…
A Letter from the Shtetl Softly the clock sounds its mournful tick-tock, / in the so still home with its ashen walls … / The sadness is painful, the silence is laden, / the hours drag slowly from one to the next… Read more…