דאָס ליד איז געבליבן
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…
From the Depths Today I witnessed an old fella’s weeping; / in a fold of his cheek / a tear got stuck, / unable to reach / his white beard. Read more…
About Rokhl Kramf (Rachel Krampf) Rokhl Kramf (1906-1988) was born in Krystynopol (Кристинопіль), later Chervonohrad (Червоноград), and now Sheptytskyi (Шептицький) Galicia, in modern Ukraine. She escaped to Israel in 1938, where she died in 1988. She published poetry in many Yiddish language journals in Warsaw in the interwar period, and later in Israel. Sources: Congress for Jewish Culture National Library… Read more…
Alone You never brought me white roses / yet the ground is white-bestrewn with them. / The entire earth is redolent of spring blossoms, / early spring blossoming on snow. Read more…
On the White Hills Smoke, a white smoke, floats on the white hills, / a whiteness that flies, scatters the snows. / No one comes now to pluck white roses, / so they fly into the air, whirl and twirl. Read more…