דאָס ליד איז געבליבן
I’m Not Envious I’m not envious of anyone, / save the song of the scythe / eventide in the countryside… Read more…
A Phrase About Man in an Old Holy Book Though Springtime, there was rain and snow, / and above the columns of night / grief clambered like a cat and terrorized all the roads. / I sat alone, leafing through an old holy book. Read more…
About Yisroel Shtern Yisroel Shtern (1894-1942) was born in Ostrołęka (Ostrolenke), educated in yeshivas, and became a follower of the Mussar movement. After being imprisoned during the First World War, he lived in Warsaw, where he ultimately perished in the Ghetto in 1942. He published poems in many literary journals, and became known as one of the most… Read more…
My Guest On the street / the trodden snow lies. / Its countenance is pale / and it cries. Read more…
How Everything Here Has Changed How everything here has changed, the color transformed. / How lovely my city is, all spiffed up and adorned. / The red flags flutter down nearly to the ground / and for me every weekday is cause for celebration. Read more…
On a Wooden Bench Here on the wooden bench / is where we’ll wait for the sun to set. / As we waited a thousand years past. / It will certainly arrive. / It has never fooled us yet. Read more…
With the Night With the night my silky dreams dissolved. / With the night my quiet singing stopped. / With the day, my poem arrived swimming / on the storm with a fierce echoing sound. Read more…
About Yakov Shudrikh Yakov “Yankev” Shudrikh (1906-1943) was born in Uhniv (Hivniv / Urnav) in the Lviv (Lemberg) district, in modern Ukraine. He wrote poetry from a young age, and took part in the revolutionary movement. He co-founded the General Jewish Labor Party, and wrote for their organ Der Veg (The Way) as well as many other publications.… Read more…
A Stormy Night My child, don’t be frightened / of the wind / that bends the trees to the earth, / of the dark that pours over all the roads, / of the rain / that beats with heavy treads on the roof / and of all, of all, that gives rise to the night, / trembling in… Read more…
My Mama’s Snow It may be a mistake / but my mama’s snow / was simply white / and not like the poetic take: / green, lilac, or violet bright. Read more…