'
i
PURCHASED FOR THE
University of Toronto Library
FROM THE
Shoshana and Milton Shier Fund
FOR THE SUPPORT OF
Jewish Studies
SONGS FROM THE GHETTO
SONGS
FROM THE GHETTO
MORRIS ROSENFELD
With Prose Translation, Glossary, and Introduction.
By LEO WIENER, Instructor in the Slavic
Languages at Harvard University
BOSTON
COPELAND AND DAY
1898
-pj
COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY COPELAND AND DAY
INTRODUCTION
YIDDISH, or Judeo-German, is a group of dialects
spoken by the Jews of German origin in Russia,
Austria, and Roumania. Originally not differing from
the local dialects of the Middle Rhine, it has incor-
porated in the diaspora a large number of Slavic and
Hebrew words so as to become unintelligible to the
average German reader. To neutralize this diffi-
culty to a certain extent, Mr. Rosenfeld's language,
which belongs to the Lithuanian variety of Judeo-
German, has been presented in this book as far as
practicable in the orthography of the literary German.
The apparent discrepancy in the rhymes thus pro-
duced will disappear if the following is observed :
The consonants have all their German values, and
I is like French/. The vowels are nearly all short, so
that u, ie, i are equal to German // similarly <z, 0, eh,
ee are like G. short e. The G. long e is represented
by e, oe y and in Slavic and Hebrew words also by ee.
Ei and eu are pronounced like G. ei in mein, while ei
is equal to G. ee ; a and o are G. short o; au sounds
more like G. ou, and au and o resemble G. oi. The
Slavic and Hebrew words are spelled phonetically,
and the latter differ consequently from the transliter-
ated forms in scientific works.
The Judeo-German literature had its beginnings in
the fifteenth century, but previous to our own times
it has produced nothing noteworthy from a literary
standpoint. Since the fifties the Russian Jews have
developed a great activity, and there has arisen a
long series of folk-poetry, ranging from the mere
rhyming of the wedding- jesters to the elaborate pro-
ductions of Frug, who has also made a name in
Russian literature. This poetry has, however, re-
ceived its highest perfection in America by the con-
summate art of Mr. Morris Rosenfeld.
Mr. Rosenfeld was born in 1862 in a small town
in Poland, where his ancestors had been fishermen.
He has received no other education than that which
is allotted to all Jewish boys of humble origin. While
well read in German and English literature, he
masters only his native Yiddish. He went early to
England, to avoid military service, and there learned
the tailor's trade. Thence he proceeded to Holland
where he tried himself at diamond grinding. He
very soon after came to America, where for many
weary years he has eked out an existence in the
sweat-shops of New York. It is there he has learned
to sing of misery and oppression. His health gave
out, and he had to abandon the shop for the pre-
carious occupation of a Yiddish penny-a-liner. In
the meantime he has developed Judeo-German ver-
sification to unknown proportions. Of the merits of
his poetry let the reader judge himself.
L. W.
vi
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION . v
SONGS OF LABOR
3n Sd?ap. In the Sweat-Shop 2
Der blether 2Jpreter. The Pale Operator 6
21 Cratjr anf 'n tfen. A Tear on the Iron .... 8
irtetn 3ftngele. My Boy 10
Dar3tt>eifhmg. Despair 14
Die Kale run Me 3erg. The Mountain Bride .... 16
Da arcme (Seftnb ! The Beggar Family 20
IDuhm? Whither? 26
Die Zlacbttgall 3um 2Irbetter. The Nightingale to the
Laborer 28
IDas tf bte IDelt ? What is the World ? 30
2Illf 'tt Cotengarten. In the Garden of the Dead . . 32
NATIONAL SONGS
Sftre. Sephirah 42
^elbmeften. The Measuring of the Graves 46
Ktbefd7=eroone. The Moon-Prayer 48
Die erfie dtptle. The First Bath of Ablution .... 52
Der IHamfer. The Bastard 56
vii
PAGE
Der jfibifd)er mat. The Jewish May 58
Der jiibifd?er Solbat. The Jewish Soldier 66
2luf 'n Bnfem tmn 3<*nt. On the Bosom of the Ocean . 70
Die id?tar!auferin. The Candle-Seller 76
MISCELLANEOUS
Dcr BeffoIentsSfoIoroei. The Cemetery-Nightingale . . 86
gu Me Slltmen in l^erbfi. To the Flowers in Autumn . 88
Die ^retfyeit. Liberty 90
Der Kanarif. The Canary 94
gu bte IDeltparfcfylittcjer. To the Fortune-Hunters . . 94
<EItlI=meIobten. September Melodies 96
UTaiffe^B'reefd^is. Creation of Man 100
3" &er ITTibber. In the Wilderness 104
GLOSSARY 109
viii
SONGS OF LABOR
raufdjen in (Sdjap afo nrilt tie
oftmal sargeff id) in SRaufd), as idj bin ;
n?er' in tern fdjrerflidjen Xnmmel sarloren,
3d) n?ert tort botel, idj er' a
arbeif, un' arbeif, un' arbeif, o^n'
Un' far roemen ? 3d) foeij? nit, id) frag' nit,
2Bie fummt a 9ftafd)ine gu tenfen a Sftal ? * * *
9W ta fein efuljl, fetn ebanf, Kin SSarjlant gar ;
Die bittere, bhttige Arbeit terfd)Iagt
)ad Steljle, @d)6npe un' S3ejie, tag S^eic^jle,
tag v^^fie, tt>ag Seben tjarmogt*
(Eg fd)minten efnnten, SO^innten nn' tnnten,
ar fegelfcfynelf Idufen tie ^ac^f mit tie Jag' ;
3d) treib' tie 9ftafc()itt', gleid^ i^ nrifl fee terjagen,
34 jag' ofyn' a fee^el, i^ lag' ofyn' a 33reg
X)er (Saeger in SBorffc^ap, er ru^t nit aftle,
Sr meifl aflg, nn' ttappt aflg, nn' mecft nadjanant ;
(9efagt l>at a SSftenfdj mir a 5Rat tie 33eteutung :
(Setn SBeifen nn' SBerfen, tort liegt a 23arftant ;
57or etn?ag getenft f!d) mir, pnnft tvie un Sfyolem ;
T)er aeger, er mecft in mir Ceben nn' (Sinn,
Un' no4 eppeg, tdj ^ab' ttargeffen, nit fragt eg !
" nit, idj toetg nit, i^ bin a Sftafdfyin' ! * .
In the Sweat-Shop
THE machines in the shop roar so wildly that
often I forget in the roar that I am; I am
lost in the terrible tumult, my ego disappears, I
am a machine. I work, and work, and work with-
out end ; I am busy, and busy, and busy at all time.
For what ? and for whom ? I know not, I ask not !
How should a machine ever come to think?
There are no feelings, no thoughts, no reason ;
the bitter, bloody work kills the noblest, the most
beautiful and best, the richest, the deepest, the
highest, which life possesses. The seconds, min-
utes and hours fly ; the nights, like the days, pass
as swiftly as sails ; I drive the machine just as if
I wished to catch them : I chase without avail, I
chase without end.
The clock in the workshop does not rest ; it keeps
on pointing, and ticking, and waking in succession.
A man once told me the meaning of its pointing
and waking, that there was a reason in it ; as
if through a dream I remember it all : the clock
awakens life and sense in me, and something else,
I forget what ; ask me not ! I know not, I know
not, I am a machine !
3
Un' geitenwets, roenn tdj ber^bY fdjon tern Jaeger,
tdj gang anberfdj fein 2Betfen, fein (Sprad)' ;
ba$t, as e$ nufet mtdj borten tier Umruty',
'dj fott arbetten, arbeiten met)rer aftad) !
3$ $&Y in fein Son nor bent Soft's feflben 23oefer,
(5ein ftnflern ^ndf in bie SBeifer bie gtoet ;
Der @aeger, mir ffruc^et, mir bac^t, as er treibt mic^
Un'ruftmtc^: ,,9ttaf$ine!" un'f^reitsumtr: .
bann, enn 's if (litter ber nrifber etummel,
if ber 9ttefjler in ^ittagjeitpunb',
D, bann tjebt in ^opp Bei mir gleicfy an git tagen,
3n erjen 311 jie^en, i(^ fitfjP bann metn SBttnV ;
Un' bittere Jra^ren, un' fttbige Jra^ren
S3ene^en mein mageren Sftittag, mein 33rot,
Ss wergt mtc^, ify fann nit mefyr eften, ic^ lann nit!
D, f^red U(%e ^)raje ! D, bittere
'S erfdjeint mir bie (Sc^ap in ber Sftittagjeitjhmbe
21 blutige c^Ia^tfetb, wenn bort erb geru^t :
Slrum un' arum fe^ t^ liegen J^arugim,
@S laremt un b'r Srb' bas argoftene 93lttt ,
Sin SBetle, tin' balb merb gepattft a Srerooge,
!Die Xote erroaAen, es lebt auf bie @^(ac^t,
Ss fampfen bie JrnpeS far ^rembe, far grembe,
Un' (Ireiten, ttn ; fatten, un' (In!en in
fn<f auf bent ^ampfpla^ mtt bttteren
f, mit ftetome, mit ^ettifc^er 5)
e^t ^6r' i(^ i^m ri^tig, er toecft eS :
% @fof ju bte ^ne^tfcbaft, a @fof fott eS fetn I"
Sr muntert in mir mein 25arftonb, bie efufyfett,
Un' wcifl, tute e3 laufen bie tunben abin :
2ln Stenber bteib' icb, tote tang id) wett f^weigen,
SSarloren, n?te lang ic^ ^arbteib^ raaS it^ bin* *
4
And, at times, when I hear the clock, I under-
stand quite differently its pointing, its language ;
it seems to me as if the Unrest (pendulum) egged
me on that I should work more, more, much more.
In its sound I hear only the angry words of the
boss ; in the two hands I see his gloomy look. The
clock, I shudder, it seems to me it drives me and
calls me "Machine," and cries out to me : "Sew !"
Only when the wild tumult subsides, and the
master is away for the midday hour, day begins to
dawn in my head, and a pain passes through my
heart ; I feel my wound, and bitter tears, and boil-
ing tears wet my meagre meal, my bread : it chokes
me, I can eat no more, I cannot ! O horrible toil !
bitter necessity !
The shop at the midday hour appears to me like
a bloody battlefield where all are at rest: about
me I see lying the dead, and the blood that has
been spilled cries from the earth. ... A minute
latter the tocsin is sounded, the dead arise, the
battle is renewed. The corpses fight for strangers,
for strangers ! and they battle, and fall, and dis-
appear into night.
I look at the battlefield in bitter anger, in terror,
with a feeling of revenge, with a hellish pain. The
clock, now I hear it aright, it is calling : " An end to
slavery, an end shall it be ! " It vivifies my reason,
my feelings, and shows how the hours fly ; miserable
1 shall be as long as I am silent, lost as long as
I remain what I am. . . .
5
)er 2ftenf$, wetter fcpft in mir, tje&t an
Der ne(H wetter n>a$t in mir, fcfylaft tort ft* ein ;
Sljitttt) if We ridjtige tunbe gelummen !
21 @fof su bem fenb, <* @ff f a c * f eitt ! * * *
ptu^Itng ber 2Bi(fel, ber S5of, a Xrewoge !
er' an tern fee^el, argeg', nju i^ bin,
tummelt, men ISmpft, o, mein 3$ if sarloren,
wet nit, mid) art nit, id) Mn a ^afc^in' ! . .
2)ct Blei^et |itei(t
fe^ bort a btet^en Sfyretet
in ber Arbeit, a c&rerf!
Un' feit ic^ gebenf i^m, att^ nae^t er
Un' legt feine ^raften
(s tveren S^abof^tm ijarflogen,
g^ laufen bie
Un ; no<$ (l^t ber
Un' lampft mit 'n ro|en
; Betrad^t bort fein 3
un
Un' fii^F, as ba arBeift fein wure,
nor
$)odj fatten bie Xropfeng fejfeeber,
SSun 5lnfgang bis lintergang fpat,
Un' fappen jlc^ ein in bie ^letber,
Un' trinfen PC^ ein in bie
6
The man that sleeps in me begins to waken,
the slave that wakens in me is put to sleep. Now
the right hour has come ! An end to misery, an
end let it be ! ... But suddenly the whistle,
the boss, an alarm ! I lose my reason, forget
where I am ; there is a tumult, they battle, oh,
my ego is lost ! I know not, I care not, I am a
machine ! .
The Pale Operator
I SEE there a pale operator all absorbed in his
work. Ever since I remember him, he has been
sewing, and using up his strength.
Months fly, and years pass away, and the pale-
faced one still bends over his work and struggles
with the unfeeling machine.
I stand and look at his face : his face is be-
smutted and covered with sweat. I feel that it is
not bodily strength that works in him but the
incitement of the spirit.
And the tears fall in succession from daybreak
until fall of night, and water the clothes, and enter
into the seams.
7
3$ fcef ettcfj, ttrie fang wet notf) jagen
)er <5$road)er bent blutigen SRab ?
O, ter tann fein (Snbe mir fagen ?
2Ber weifj ienem fdjredttidjen fob ?
D, fdjwer, fefjer f(^n?er ba^ ju fagen,
$0$ iin^ if feettJitt un' befc^eibt :
SKenn t^m wet tie Arbeit
@i^t teefef a
31 Irafjr auf 'n
itn' ftnjler if tie
Jalf tern (Eifen, fle^ un'
wac^, ic^ frays' un' ^uj
faum meiu Iranfe 53ru(L
3* M$f un' ^ufF, wn' pref n ; War',
^etn Slug' n?erb feucfct, e^ faflt a Slra^r ;
)er @ifen gtii^t ; ba3 Xra^rel mein,
n ; fWt nit ein
3* ffiW fetn ^raft, e tf ;
)er Sifen faflt mir un bte
Un' boc^ ber Xraljr, ber (Summer
2)er Srafyr, ber Sra^r fo(|t me^r un'
@5 rauf(%t mein tf opp, es bred^t ntein
3* frag' mit 8Befc i4 frag ; mit
,,O, jag', mein greimb in 5^ot un'
D, Xra^r, far foas (feVjl bit nit ein?
8
Pray, how long will the weak one drive the
bloody wheel ? Who can tell me his end ? Who
knows the terrible secret?
Hard, very hard to answer that ! But one thing
is certain : when the work will have killed him
another will be sitting in his place and sewing.
A Tear on the Iron
OH, cold and dark is the shop ! I hold the
iron, stand and press ; my heart is weak, I
groan and cough, my sick breast scarcely heaves.
I groan and cough, and press and think;
my eye grows damp, a tear falls ; the iron is hot,
my little tear, it seethes and seethes, and will not
dry up.
I feel no strength, it is all used up ; the iron falls
from my hand, and yet the tear, the silent tear, the
tear, the tear boils more and more.
My head whirls, my heart breaks, I ask in woe :
" Oh, tell me, my friend in adversity and pain, O
tear, why do you not dry up in seething ?
9
,,33tfl effcfyer gar a $imer,
<5agfl an mir, as es htmmen metyr?
3$ motif e$ woflen nriffen, fag':
SCenn entugt fldj fcer grower
3$ tt)oW gcfragt nod^ ntelr im' nte^r
53efm Umru^ bet tent nrilben
2)5 fyaben (Ic^ berlangt a og
ra^ren, Xra|rett o^n' a
^ it^ ^ab' fc^on ijarjtatt'ett g
ttef if tto<$ t>
pb' a Heincm 3itngele,
(5it^nc(e gar fein !
SCenn i$ berfetj' ijrn, tat^t (!$ rnir,
)te gan^c SCelt if mein*
fetten, fetten fe^ ic^ i$m,
(^oenem, tt?enn er
treff^ i^m immer ftfylafenttg,
e im nor fcei
Arbeit treibt mi$ rii^ arau
, fremb if mir metn eigen Seifc I
, fremb tnein $int>'$ a S3Ucf !
' juftemmtertyeit a^etm,
mir
SMe fein t>a^ ^int) PC^ fpfeft,
10
" Are you, perhaps, a messenger, and announce to
me that other tears are coming? I should like to
know it : say, when will the great woe be ended ? "
I should have asked more and more of the Un-
rest, the turbulent tear ; but suddenly there began
to flow more tears, tears without measure, and I at
once understood that the river of tears is very
deep. . . .
My Boy
I HAVE a little boy, a fine little fellow is he !
When I see him, it appears to me the whole
world is mine.
Only rarely, rarely I see him, my pretty little son,
when he is awake ; I find him always asleep, I see
him only at night.
My work drives me out early and brings me
home late ; oh, my own flesh is a stranger to me !
oh, strange to me the glances of my child !
I come home in anguish and shrouded in dark-
ness, my pale wife tells me how nicely the child
plays,
ii
SBte fug eS reb't, toie flug e$ fragt;
,,D, Sftama, gute 9fta,
SBenn fummt un' brcngt a $emt9 tnir
3)cr guter, guter
S ' eiF e
a, a, c mu^ gef^etjn !
Dte SaterlteBe fladert auf :
(3 mud mein ^tnt mid) fcfyn !
34 (le^ Bet fein cla^ercl
51 Srattnt bewegt bie
fr D,tttF ttif
34 fuf4' bie btoe
(See offnen (14 //),
fe^en mi4, fee fe|ett
' f4Iiegen P4
,,T)a (le^t beitt ^apa, Seuerer,
21 ^enntle bir, na I 11
21 Xraum Bewegt bie
34
bit ertua4(l ci 5)^51, meftt
Il bu mi4 nit meljr." . .
12
How sweetly he talks, how brightly he asks : " O
mother, good mother, when will my good, good
papa come and bring me a penny?"
I hear it, and I hasten : it must be, yes, it shall
be ! The father's love flames up : my child must
see me !
I stand by his cradle, and see and listen, and
hush ! A dream moves his lips : " Oh, where is,
where is papa? "
I kiss the little blue eyes, they open : " O child ! "
They see me, they see me, and soon close up
again.
" Here stands your papa, darling ! Here is a
penny for you ! " A dream moves the little lips :
"Oh, where is, where is papa?"
I stand in pain and anguish, and bitterness, and
I think : " When you awake some day, my child,
you will find me no more ! " . . .
men nit rufyen djotfdj ein ag in
$ Sag me$r nit frei fein ijun fdjrerfltdjen
25argejfen tern 23ojf$ bem sarMfienem
<5ein finftere Sftiene, fein fcfyrerflidjen
23argeffen bem @djap un' bent
SSargeffen tie ^nec^tfc^aft, ttargeffen bent
SSargeffen [!$ nrifljt bu un' ru^en bergn ?
9ttt forg' flc^, ot balb te(l bu ge^n in bein
Ot Balb tyafcen S3aumer un' 53tumen
Ot enbigt ber SSoegel ber letter fein Sieb,
Ot 16alb if 23ejfolem3 arum un ; arnm !
O, ttrie ttjottf i$ ttoflen a (S^ntetf t^on a 23Ium,
51 pt)I t^on, c^otf^, eber e (iarbt a^ bag ra3,
3luf gelber tegriinte bent SBintele'S S3Ia^ !
3n getb fein ijartangjl bit, wn luftig un ; gritn ?
^e f men tet bi(^ ft^on brengen afyin 1
Xeic^ if bejtlfcert un' gtan^t afo fd&oen,
>ie SBellen Befpreit mit a tjtmmlifc&en S|een,
O, bort jld) ju Baben n?ie gnt mn e^ feinl
2Bte moUf id) mit 2u(l in bent SBajfer arein !
SJJein uf if mtn f^redfli^e Arbeit uarf^mac^t,
2Bie njoHten bie S3aber midj frift^er gemac^t !
O, baben f!$ miUji bu, ft$ tuaf^en in
t^, men met bi$ arumn?af(^en
2)ie @d)tfc*@d>ap if ftnfler un j rau^ig un' Hetn,
O, tt)te foU mein SBIufe bie weige fein rein ?
3 fd^mu^igen <5d)ap if bie JReinfeit mir fremb ;
2Bte jiert e$ a ^lenf^en a flarwei^e emb !
14
Despair
IS it not allowed to rest even one day in the
week and to be at least one day free from
the dreadful yoke ? To forget the angry growl of
the boss, his gloomy mien, his terrible look ; to
forget the shop and the cries of the foreman ; to
forget slavery, to forget woe ? You wish to forget
yourself and be rested? Never mind, you will
soon go to your rest !
Soon the trees and flowers will have withered ;
the last bird is already ending his song; soon there
will be cemeteries all around ! Oh, how I should
like to smell a flower and feel, before the grass is
dead, the breath of zephyr in the green fields !
You wish to be in the fields where it is airy and
green ? Never mind, you will be carried there
soon enough !
The brook is silvery and glistens beautifully ; the
waves are covered with a heavenly grace. Oh, how
good it is to bathe there ! How I should enjoy
leaping into it ! My body is weakened from the
dreadful work, how the bath would refresh me !
Oh, you wish to make your ablution in the
brook ? Be not frightened, you will soon receive
your ablution !
The sweat-shop is dark and smoky and small.
How can my white blouse be clean there? In the
dirty shop cleanliness is unknown to me. How a
pure, white shirt adorns a man ! How proper for
15
2Qie pat e3 a nobeten itf, 311 fein fret,
3u arbetten menfcfyltd) un' rein fein berbei !
ant^on in tt>eien arlangjl bit ajihtb ?
feet bidj fcfyon anttyon un' ant^on gefdjwinb !
3n SBatb if e3 Ittftig, in
2Bte gut if e^ borten $u t^olemen flifl !
J)ie 2$oegela$ jlngen met^ajebig fein,
Die oner bie fitge, fee fc^taferen ein ;
3n (Sc^ap if es aber a 0lauf(^ itn' e^ (ltdft,
), n?te n?oUf ber SBalb mt^ getitfyU un^ gequidt ! -
D, fit^Ien ft^ wittjl bit ? 2Ba$ taitg' bir a SBalb ?
57it tang wet e$ ne^men, un' bit roejl fein fait !
21 tfjeiteren Gnawer 311 ^a6en if gitt,
3n 9lot gf t er ^offnitng, in Slenbfeit
21 ttyeuerer S^awer ^arfiijt bir bein @ein,
(Sr gi't bir a (f)eefd)ef in Seben arein ;
Un' i(^ bin ttarjoffemt un ? ic^Jbtn a tein,
97it ba fein S^anjeertm, bin (Siner aflein
SBefl ^aben (fyatt>eerim balb gar o^n' a (Sdj
(See roien flt^ fdjon, itn' fee marten aitf bir !
2>ie ^ak bun fate
bie Sltteg^an^berger
* a 0luine ;
Morten liegt an eingefaU'ne,
2l(te
Un' nit wett nn biefer
Sinfam un' sarlafen,
a tiibele a ttetne
en tt)ilbe rafen*
16
a noble body it is, in order to be free, to work
humanely and be clean withal ! You wish now to
dress yourself in white ? They will dress you, and
dress you quickly enough !
The woods are breezy, hi the woods it is cool.
How good to dream there quietly ! The little
birds sing pleasantly; but in the shop there is a
noise, and the air is suffocating. Oh, you wish to
be cool ? Of what avail is a forest to you ? It
will not be long before you will be cold.
'T is good to have a dear companion. In adver-
sity he gives hope, in misery courage. A dear
companion sweetens your being, and he gives you
a zest for life. And I am orphaned, alone like a
stone, there are no companions, I am all by my-
self. You will soon have companions without
end : they swarm already, and are waiting for
you !
The Mountain Bride
UPON the Alleghany mountains is to be seen a
ruin : there lies an old, caved-in coal mine.
And not far from that ruin, lonely and deserted,
stands a small hut among wild grasses.
Shorten pflegf ter alter S3ergmann
$4' fcei 9t<u$t geftn'en ;
Morten pflegen ufeen fltngen,
title Srafjren rinnen.
tie nwjh $olenmtne
Sort if 23Iut geflojfen :
Unten liegt ter alter Reiner
mit fein Softer'* S^ojfem
Un' fein frumme, fdjoene Softer,
2lcfj, tt>a$ tann fein arger ?
SBantelt mit a eifl a franfen
5luf tie flumme S3erger
Sinfam Tebt fie swiften (Stetner,
)^n^ a Jrofl, o^n ; >>offen 5
(Spat oei Wafyt nor, anf ter 9ftine,
SBert fte flttt antfc^Iafen*
n?ie gt(^ fie fdjtaft nor etn bort,
t>te ^te^morim,
Un ; i^r Slate, un' i^r S^offen
Dffenen tie
Un' mit fee tie ra'Ber atte,
SlUemit^efangen
Un' nit meit tort i?un tern
ort men tumjjfe ^langen*
(Stumm antf$tt>fea,en, tt)ie ter
un' blut^egojfen,
in 3trem fein eliefcte
)er sarfu^lter S^ojfen*
18
There the old miner used to find rest at night :
there sobs were heard and quiet tears flowed.
But the desolated coal mine, blood has flowed
there: underground lies the old miner and his
daughter's affianced.
And his goodly, beautiful daughter oh, what
can be worse ? wanders with unsound mind over
the silent mountains.
Alone she lives among the rocks, without conso-
lation, without hope ; only late at night she softly
falls asleep upon the ruin.
And as soon as she slumbers, musicians begin to
play, and her father and her affianced open up the
graves.
And with it, all the tombs are opened, all a-sing-
ing, and not far away, from the cloister, muffled
bells are rung.
Silent as the grave, covered with black gore, the
stark, dead body of the affianced takes in his arm
his bride.
'9
lei* treft $u tier alter State,
)ur$g,efcrenttt mit SBunfcen,
SBeint un' fcenfc&t tie Winter feine,
un' tt>ert>
)a ijarfhtmmen tie $Ie3morim
aUe;
un' ^weit e0 HeiBen
nit
? fee fcletfcen, ttn^ fee tan^en
, Reiner Port nit,
a,Ft a 2Bun! u
Un'ber eoen mert) nit
)a fprtngt auf bem
,,D, tie ^enfc^
Un^ arfd)tt>tnt>et auf tie Merger
it a n?ilt> ela^ter*
oremc effnb*
(le^t eitt areme
3n Sort^au^ ar bent 9ttc(jter,
SSarmatterte, un SeBen
ntagere efi^ter*
SSater if a franfer
S)ie gutter fc^ttja*, ge^ro^en t
)te Dfeta*, bie Bibne ier,
t>arre ^>aut un
20
Her old father, with gaping wounds, approaches
them ; he weeps and blesses his children, sobs and
disappears.
Silenced are the musicians and all the bells : all
disappears, and all is mute; only the betrothed
remain behind.
They remain and dance quietly, no one dis-
turbs them until, when beckoned from afar, the
bridegroom vanishes.
Then the dead man's bride leaps up : " O you
butchers of men ! " and she disappears upon the
mountains with wild laughter.
The Beggar Family
A BEGGAR family stands in the courthouse
before the judge. They are worn out and
tired of life, and their faces are thin : the father is
a sick man, the mother weak and broken down ;
the four poor little creatures are nothing but dry
skins and bones.
21
D, (ejer <Stnt if fetjer grog,
3f groalttg, gum (r(taunen !
(See fjafcen metyr fein eim far j!$,
$ein >ire, KM gu tootjnen.
(See fuel en aitf tern Sftidjter {efct,
(See fennen tie rimajfen,
(See toeijfen fc^on tern n?tlten $faf
gar SBanblen in tie afetu
gg treiBt fee f^on tie 'redjtigfeit
21U Settler, 55agafeunt)ett,
SSun T)orf git )orf, \?un (Statt gu @tabt,
^imat a 3afyr a runten*
(See fennen jete XpflTe ft^on,
(See n?eiffen fd)on tie 5flore^ ;
jkrfcen aber flarbt (IdJ nit,
5Der ?JWutter^ 3ung ; if fete gelafjmt,
2)er 3Sater fra'gt gutragen :
,,2Bu_tenfjl tu, )gotg, un0 setter je
TOtOfela^ gu jagen?
D, Ia un^ ta ! Die @tatt if grof,
SDttr feeflen eff^er friegen
21 Sftatjlgett ergej u gef^enlt,
5ln Drt, atru gu liegen,
,,Un ? ofc i^ feef a SWal gefunt
(Set ott !ann 5ltte3 mer'en),
SQBell i$ mein SBeib un' Winter
Wlit SartU^feit ernatyren,
), la^ un^, Dgotg, o, Ia^ nn^ ta
SSarHetBen gttrifdjen ^enfc^en !
D, gieB, anftatt gu fluc^en ti(|,
elegen^eit gu fcenfdjen \"
22
Oh, their crimes are very great, of unheard-of
magnitude ! They have no home of their own, no
place where to live. They now look at the judge,
they understand his mien, they know the terrible
punishment for wandering in the streets.
Justice has been driving them as beggars and
vagabonds from village to village, from town to
town, almost for a whole year. They know every
jail, they know all those dark holes ; in spite of all
that they did not die, but lived on for ever new
troubles.
The mother's tongue is almost paralyzed, the
father asks in fright : " Whither, O judge, are you
going to drive us now with our little creatures?
Oh, leave us here ! The city is large, we will
somehow manage to get a meal, and a place where
to lie down.
" And if ever I get well again (with God every-
thing is possible), I shall tenderly care for my wife
and children. Leave us, judge, oh, leave us here
among human beings ! Oh, give us an opportunity
of blessing instead of cursing you ! "
>er >5ob)j Betradjt bem franten Sftatm
,,D, nein, i$ mefl eud) afle fedjs
25un batmen mefjr nit fdjidett,
3fjr fceibe nor wet mufen gefjn,
)ie $fnber wetten BteiBen ;
3$ tt)ea far fee in
21 freten
>er 5Sater n>crb ar direct ijarfhtmmt,
)tc Gutter ^ebt an fdjreten t
,,D, netn, ba^ met in ^>immel ott
@uc^ fetn Wai nit ijaraei^en*
Un' nemmt i|r meine ^inber gu f
So nemmt ijareint mein Seben ;
), nein, i^ foefl bie ^tnber euc^
!ein fc^um att nit geben !
mit S3tut gefogen fee,
(Srgogen ti^ a^iinber,
3$ wett auc^ tueiter fcettten gen
Un* fpeifen meine $inber*
3^ jveif, o X)aobJ, ba$ fann nit fein,
2)u ladjjt e_nor, bu fpieljl nor,
D, tag bie JDfeladS Bei mir
Un' treib' m& f n?u bn anfljl nor!"
|, er entfert nit a SBort,
farttg bie ^apieren :
3^m art bie ^uttefg Sorter nit,
3t)m !ann ifjr 2Ce^ nit rii^rem
2)er TOfdjpet, er if 1 au^gerebt,
Un' !ann er fetn no$ milber ?
51 boppelt Stw^ auf ber
f^afftafol^e 23itber!
24
The judge looks at the sick man with a sharp
glance : " No, I shall no longer send you all six
away from this place. Only you two will have to
go, the children will remain, I shall get a free
place for them in the orphan asylum."
The father grows dumb with fright, the mother
begins to cry : " Oh, no, God in heaven will not
forgive you that. And if you take away my chil-
dren, take at once my life ! Oh, no, I shall never
give up my children to you !
"I fed them with my blood, and raised them
until now; I shall keep on begging, and feeding
my children. I know, judge, that cannot be, you
are only jesting and playing with us. Oh, leave
the creatures with me, and drive us whither you
please ! "
The judge answers not a word, and gets ready
the papers. He cares not for the words of the
mother, her woe cannot move him. The sentence
is passed, and can it be more cruel? Doubly
cursed be the system that makes such pictures
possible !
SBuljtn?
Sn a 2Jtoebele
, ttwtjut, bu fronted tftnb?
>ie SBelt if no* nit offen !
>, fe|', toie JW ba if arum!
SBar ag bie ajfen pe^ett fhtmm,
SBufjin, wu^in afo gef^tmnb ?
3e^t,if bo$ gut 311 f^Iafen :
2)ie S3Iumen traumen boc^ noc^,
@$ fc^meigt no(^ jieber SSogelneji,
SBufjitt fort treibt eg bid) ajitnb ?
taufjl bu, fag',
e arbienen !"
, wu^in, bu f^oettes
(So frat Bet ftad&t fpa^ieren ?
5lUein bur$ ginflernig un ?
Utt' m& rujt, eg fd^meigt bte
SBu^in fort tragt eg bid) ber 3Cinb ?
)tt ftjefi bod^ noc^ uarirren I * *
j^at ber Xag bir nit
fann bir tyelfen benn bie
if bod^ pumm un' taufc un' biinb !
mit letdjten innen ?
26
Whither?
To a girl
WHITHER, whither, pretty child? The
world is not yet open ! Oh, see, how quiet
it is all around ! 'T is before daybreak, the streets
are mute. Whither, whither do you hurry ? 'T is
now good to sleep, and, do you see, the flowers
are still a-dreaming ; every bird's nest is still silent.
Whither, pray, are you driven now? Whither do
you hurry, tell me, and what to do ? " To earn
a living ! "
Whither, whither, pretty child, walking so late
at night? Alone through the darkness and cold !
And everything is at rest, the world is silent.
Whither does the wind carry you? You will yet
lose your way ! Scarcely has day smiled on you,
how can the night help you ? For it is mute, and
deaf, and blind. Whither, whither with easy mind ?
"To earn a living !"
27
jum
(Summer if $eunt, f$on (Summer if tyeunt
Du $6rj*, ttie i$ pfetff btr a ftigen?
3n ttefbfoen immel tie <Sunn' golbig f^eint,
@$ fingen in 2Balb meine htfttge greunb',
g fummen in ritngras bie gliegen ;
&3 plaubert ter Quatt' un' e3 murmelt ber Xei(^,
@^ iliUjen un ; f^medfen bie SBliimela^ ret$,
enug in gaBrtl bir gu Uegen !
(Ste^ aitf, bie 9latur pt btc^ audj gar nit feinb,
(Sdjon (Summer if eunt, ft^on (Summer if
SStel Sujttgteit, ttiel SSergenitgen
@in 3ebwebe0 attjemt, ein 3ebeS genie^t,
3 fragen nor Sltte, n?u bu ergej bijl :
Dein Stjeefet if ba {fi, bein 3$etl if aran,
5^u, nemm e0 f o, nemm ba^ ; bu Slrieitermann !
@6on (Summer if it, ft^on ummer if i^t !
2>er (Sc^metterHng tanjt auf bie 23Iumen,
2)er ftlberner ^tegenbel m^ajebig
S3 fle^en bie S3erg afo griin un ;
Die Sitft if gemif^t mit ^arfumen ;
Die (Sc^afelac^ fpringen in Blumigen
Der 5)a3tuc^ ber|ort f(^on ber
Die fyetltge 3^it if ge!ummen !
9lu, m&tif nit fein <S$tie$ ! ba3 SeBen
<Sd)on Summer if i^t, fdjon ummer if i^t !
Der SRab mag auf a SCeite ijarflummen,
Du p(l afo tang, afo Bitter gefdjafft,
SSartoenb't afo narrif^ bein eiferne ^raft
O, reb' $$ nit ein, as ba$ 2eBen if <Stug,
$W auf mit a S^eef^e! bem ^og ^jun enuf
2S
The Nightingale to the Laborer
SUMMER is to-day, summer is to-day! Do
you hear how I warble a song for you ! The
sun shines golden in the deep blue sky ; my airy
friends sing in the forest; the flies buzz in the
green grass; the spring babbles, the brook mur-
murs ; the little flowers bloom and shed their rich
perfume. Enough your lying in the factory ! Get
up, Nature loves you also ! Summer is to-day,
summer is to-day ! Everything breathes joy and
pleasure, everybody enjoys himself, all ask where
you are. Your part is there, there is a share for
you, so take it, oh, take it, you working man !
Summer is now, summer is now ! The butter-
fly dances upon the flowers ! the silvery rain drizzles
delightfully; the mountains are green and clearly
outlined against the sky ; the air is mingled with
perfumes ; the sheep frisk in the flowery vale ; the
shepherd hears the shepherdess's call ; the holy
time has come ! So do not delay, for life passes
like a flash, Summer is now, summer is now!
Let the wheel be silent for a while ! You have
worked so long and so painfully, you have so
foolishly used up your iron strength. Oh, do not
think that life is worthless, lift up with pleasure the
cup of enjoyment !
29
(Sdjon (Summer if ba, f$on (Summer if ba !
3dj mett es bir eoig nit jlngen,
)enn enblidfj met fummen auf mir au$ a
3mefg met sarneljmen bie ftnjhre
tyetltge Sieb met ijarfhtmmetu
n?ie id^ ffng' bir arab un bem S3aum
Sun grei^eit un ; Siebe bem golbenem Slraum,
Xo ^eb' bidj un' Ias3 bic^ nit btngem * * *
immlen ijarHeifcen auc^ ebig nit Ho,
ummer if ba, frfjon (Summer if ba !
fann men tu(lig i>arBringen,
)enn ri(%ttg n>ie bu, welder tuelft ^e
SSarn?e(!t enblid^ 2We$ un 1 tragt jl(^
Sftomenten nor bilben ba^ eben, bie
SSarfe^n a foment, if Darloren ber (Streit !
if bte 2Mt?
if unfer 3BeItcI a (Sdjfafefmmer nor,
Un' if nor a (olem ba^ SeBen;
)ann fotten mir, mitt id^, audj meine paar
3n gute
J)ann mill id) S^alomeg un
2Bte jiene gro jartige ^erren j
5Dann mitt id^ in ($olem a UeBIi^en
Un' mitt nit me$r traumen un ratjren.
Un' if unfer SBettel a @f!md)e, a 33att,
2Qu mir feinen 5ltte arBetten ;
Dann mittt f!(^ mir au$ ften orettlic^ in @aal
Un ? ijafren a S^eete! a fettem
30
Summer is here, summer is here ! I shall not
sing it to you eternally, for finally my hour, too,
will strike, a dark crow will occupy my branch,
the holy song will cease. As long as I sing to you
from the tree of the golden dream of freedom and
love, rise and let me not urge you any longer !
The heaven will not remain eternally blue ! Summer
is here, summer is here ! Now one can pass a merry
time, for just like you, who are now fading at your
machine, everything will in the end wither and be
carried away. Life is composed but of moments,
and a moment unused is a battle lost !
What is the World?
IF our world is but a sleeping room, and life is
only a dream, then I wish my few years
should flit away in good dreams.
Then I wish dreams of freedom and happiness
like those the great gentlemen dream of; then I
want to see pleasant sights in my dream, and I do
not want to dream oi tears.
And if our world is a feast, a ball, and we the
invited guests, then I, too, wish to be seated com-
fortably in the hall and have my own good share of
the banquet.
fann t$ uarbauen a <5a<$, was if gut,
21 23iffen a red&ten sartragen;
3$ pb' in metn_uf au$ biefelfcige 33Iut,
2Bie bie, fceldje D^reS sarmogeiu
Un' if nor a artcn ajunb unfer SBelt,
2Bu '$ wad^fen aitd^ atter^anb 0lofen,
S)ann wit! ic^ frajieren t>ort, fcit mir gefaflt,
Un' nit, urn bie Slei^e mir lafem
>ann witlt f!(^ mtr tragcn Dim SBtumen a
3^ hrifl fl(^ mit Corner nit $teren ;
)ann wittt |i$ mir ait(^ mit mein Siebjtc in tana
25un SO^^rten un' Sorbecr fpajieren*
Un' if unfer SBett a ^tl^ome ajunb,
2Bu @tarlc un' c^ma^ere flretten ;
>ann art mi(^ fein (Sturem, tein SKeib un' fein $tnt>,
3 bteib' nit mit flattlett un 2Beiten
warf i$ in geuer fl$, ttJcr"
Un' lampf fete a oeb' far bem
Utt' trefft mi* We tf aul, ic^ fatt ? tot auf 'n gelt,
5Dann fann i
Sluf 'n ^otengarten
91 Xraum
^3S ?fla*t if a jHfle, e leu^f t tie Sewone,
S^ fitnflen tie teren in ^)immel ;
SDfad) tragt ber S3al=(^olem burt^ Jot im' tur($ Seben,
Un' $ort, wa^ mir ^olemt in Drimmel!
32
I can, indeed, digest a thing that is good, I can
stand a dainty morsel ; I have the same blood in
my body as those who possess great fortunes.
And if our world is but a garden where all kinds
of roses grow, then I wish to pleasure myself
where I please, and not where the rich permit me
to walk.
Then I want to wear a wreath of flowers, and do
not wish to adorn myself with thorns ; then I want
to walk with my beloved one in the splendor of
myrtles and laurels.
And if our world is now a battlefield where the
strong struggle with the weak, then, in spite of
storm, and wife and child, I shall not stand coldly
aside.
Then I thrust myself into the fire, become a hero
and battle like a lion for the weak ; and if the bullet
strike me, and I fall dead on the field, then I,
too, can die laughing !
In the Garden of the Dead
A Dream
NIGHT is silent, the moon shines, and the
stars twinkle in the sky. The angel of dreams
carries me thro 1 death and life, and hear what
I dream in my slumber !
3 33
#n alter SBeffolem, surcorfene tfworim,
SBegraoene (SHucfen un' 3<w* ;
Da liegen tie ute, ta Uegen tic <5d)!edjte,
Da rutyen tie ned)f tt)ie tie <5rore3.
Dt mu nit ttju d^olemt a SBerfce a jtiflc,
21 Sintele wtegt ifyre 3^B en ;
3* (le^ tort 0efcr0<%en un' W nit lem Shorter,
Die ote, tie Sotc, fee fd)tt>eia,ett.
3c^ (Icy un' Betra^t' arum ntir tie
Die tjmtterte S3ergta(^ tie (iumme ;
3$ fc^ torten ^worim, un^ lenntig au^
SSun Ireme, 3Rei$e, un' grummc.
gg tragt fid) a 2Bintel un' tafc^tf^et tie ritfcer,
@d ttJiegen P4 often tie 8Iattla<$ :
0lu^e auf eu* in tie
0luy in tie
3$ (ley, un ? ed grautt mi4 1 &* teVt ter
,,3n Dorem=feit fe^ un' in Boffe
un tie @eiten swei jli
tu fee ? <Saa/ e^ mir offen 1"
fey, wie sarfcfyieten e^ feinen tie
ie lann ta 3Sarf(^ieten^eit lummen ? >
r wa^ if ot ter S3ergel nefte^ a tyofjler,
lummt auf tern ateiten tie S3Iumen?
tu, fag', SDtenfd), far n?a6 ta wac^fen Slumen,
? torten if ; <Samt nor un' @teiner?"
t mi^ ter 23al*djolem gefragt, un' gef^woren,
er weig tern fob un' me^r Reiner,
34
An old cemetery, scattered graves, buried happi-
ness and sorrows : there lie the good, there lie the
bad, there rest the slaves and the oppressors.
Here and there an old willow dreams, and a soft
wind rocks its branches ; I stand in anguish and
hear no words : the dead, the dead, they are
silent.
I stand and look at the tombstones around me,
at the hundreds of silent mounds; I see their
graves, and 't is evident graves of the poor, the
rich, and the pious.
A zephyr blows and passes over the little hills,
the leaves above them rock to and fro : " Holy
peace be unto you in the graves, holy peace in your
little beds!"
I stand and shudder! The angel of dreams
speaks : " Look to the South, and to the North !
Look there at the two quiet restingplaces ! Do
you understand their meaning? Tell me openly ! "
I look : how different the two graves are !
Whence comes here a difference? Why is this
mound here entirely bare, why are there flowers on
the other?
" Do you understand, O man, why flowers grow
there, while here there is sand and rocks?" the
angel of dreams asked me, and he assured me
that he alone knew the secret thereof, and no one
else.
35
,,Dt to", unter tiefen Bemacfyfenem Sergei,
Der Sfftenfdj tyat Befangt 511 tie (Sdjtnter,
$flegt marteren <Sdjma$e un' peinigen Bitter
Die areme SlrBeiterftnter,
,,(r fjat a 9fta( SlrBetterBInt nor gefattgen,
epeinigt tic aremc (Sffa^en ;
S)er&im ))flegen queUen Bet ttjm feinc tieber,
Dt tad $at i^m gettfeft gef^affcn*
w Un' ijt if JJUtt STrBeltert arcmc
$3ad er l)at varfreffen, ttarnummen,
Der taftger artelc oBen geroot'en,
fetnen tern 2lrBeiter'g
/; Dn tort 311 tern nadcten Sergei Belangt e3 !
)ad fetnen tent SlrBetter'S Sweeten !
tua^fl mm fein 9ftar$, nn fetn 33fat, fetne Stra^ren,
er Kjat ijartoren tnrd^
gd Bfafl fl^ a SBintele (lit! tnr$ tie
(55 ^b'ren flcfy Shorter in arten:
,,X)ie 53(nmen tie fc^oene, fee feinen gegantoet,
)t torten Betangen fee, torten 1"
Un' ^eftiger tragt ffdj ter SBinb tnr(% tie ritBer
tln ; rattfc^t mit a Boefe ^e^nme,
(S3 l)oren fld) 2Borter ; gar f^redfli^e Sorter :
,,$artanft ed tie grumme, tie grumme !"
Da gtei(^ ijat tern SlrBeiter^ rnB (!$ gefpalten,
2)er 33?eg I)at getnnnert mit 3oren :
), nit nor tie S3Inmen atlein fetnen nteine,
Die S3retter fogar nn fein )ren,
36
" Here, under this thickly grassed mound the
man who lies there has been a flayer : he tortured
the weak, and tormented bitterly the poor working
children.
" He lived on the blood of the laborers, and tor-
mented the poor slaves, and that gave sustenance
to his limbs and brought forth fatness.
" And now, from the strength of the poor working
men, which he has devoured and used up, there
has grown up that little garden above him : those
are the flowers of the working man !
" They belong to the bare mound over yonder !
They are the laborer's blooms ! They have grown
from his marrow, from his blood, from his tears
which he shed in chains ! "
A wind softly blows over the graves, and the
words are heard in the garden: "The beautiful
flowers, they are stolen flowers, they belong over
yonder, over yonder ! "
And stronger grows the wind that passes over
the mounds, and it howls in anger. Words,
terrible words are heard : " You may thank for it
the pious, the pious 1 "
Suddenly the working man's grave clove open ;
the dead man thundered in anger : " Not only the
flowers are mine, nay, even the boards of the coffin
are mine !
37
,,Un' ntt nor bte 23retter aflein Dim fein Dren,
ac(jrt$im, ait$ i$r feib nit feine !
$)a$ pt er burdj mtr, burc^ mein areme
5, mt$ un 7 Sitter if meine I"
if ber Xoter arauf in ber Suften
W D5 wet eitcfy no(^ !open !"
Un ? ^at feinc ginger in gcwjhn ftarfcroc^en,
Un' pt anf ber 2BeIt f!^ armo(lem
SSar (Scfyrecfettig pb^i(^ emat^t un ntein potent,
Hingt mtr in Dtyer bie Xaine :
, nit nor afletn if bie 23htmen geganwet,
un' tte if meine!"
" And not only the boards of the coffin, you
shrouds, you too are mine ! He has it all through
my work, my poor work, oh, all and all is mine ! "
Then the dead one passed away in the air with
cries : " You will pay for it yet ! " and he clenched
his fist and threatened the world.
Frightened I awoke from my dream, but there
still resound in my ears the words : " Not only
the flowers have been stolen, nay, all and all is
mine ! "
39
NATIONAL SONGS
5ft"
, ba$t jldj, tooflen jet fceten mein
fott etroag ladjen eg ge^t a&er nit
35, 23ruberla$, erjleng if jefet feet ung (gftre,
Un' (lam eppeg, fagt mir, tute la^t eg a
IDi, Sate, tit f ad$ ? ; g if a tflag' a^ elad^ter !
3n jutif^e great)' if t>enn ba eppeg 0lec^f g ?
2)er jiibtfdjer Sac^ if tenn eppeg a renter ?
fc^ bo4 nor un a Siift un ; a
pt a Xam gar bag jitbifdje SeBen !
pt ber iitbif^er ^afe( a (f)een !
3n >immel bie jtlfcewe SBoIfenblac^ fc^me^en,
3n gelb if a S^ijeg, bu fife' nor im ; tein !
)er SBatb if gett)urgig, im' griin if ber arten,
3n grueling ber SBintel, mie frtfd) un ; tt)ie fii^I
2Bag art eg bit^ 3"bel, tr-ag art eg bi(^ borten ?
33ei bir if boc^ fire, bu filfe' in ber
X)er lieBH^er (Summer, ber Xrojlung uu
@r Iduft gar in (Sitfjen, in $rad)$en ar;6ei :
!ann er bem 3iibett far ^ojfnungen gefcen,
3iiben, tvag troeft't i^m a ummer, a
42
Sephirah
MESEEMS I should like to ask my Muse to
laugh a little, but it is all in vain, for, to be-
gin with, we now have Sephirah, and, besides, tell
me : how can a Jew laugh at all ?
Oh, God, you laugh? What a pitiful laughter!
Is there anything real in the pleasures of a Jew?
Is the laughter of a Jew at all real ? No, it is but a
mixture of sighing and groaning !
Jewish life has no flavor, Jewish happiness has no
grace ! In the heavens float the silvery clouds, the
woods are full of life, but you sit down and weep !
The forest is redolent, and green is the garden ;
the breezes of Spring how refreshing and how
cool ! What concern is that to you, Jew, what con-
cern to you ? You now have Sephirah, so sit silently
and weep !
The lovely summer, the consolation of life,
passes away in sobs and in sighs. What hopes can
it give to the Jew? What consolation to him is
summer, and May?
43
21 Settler, toad $at nit fein plafc, ttw gu liegen,
2Ba3 3ebmeber tvarft fld) ntit tfym itor arum :
9?u, if eppes fdjajW far ifym 23argenitgen,
21 arten mit Sfomim, a Saunt, 511 a Stum ?
Un' Homerfdjt ber 3itt>, Nenn cr (tngt (!^ fattanber,
3f\ metnt ijr, a groe^Hftleit ba in fein Steb ?
3c^ |or^ in fetn SWfjen nor : ,,2Bant>er un 1 iuanber!"
3n jebweber 9^ote berfenn' id) tern
J)em jiibif^ett Steb, wenn ed fott nor berfyorett
2ln emejfer ^eemtn, tad fteig un efattg,
X)ann mu^ er nit rotflenbtg gief en mit Xrdfyren
Un 1 wer'en eraittert un Jetweber
21 jittrige X?ij[e, a rue, a
C ba^ tp ajiinber ber jitbif^er ujl,
21 uft h?a ewetft nor efulten'gu
a
21 Xftle^Ieoni, a 3ape, a
D ba^ tp bie jiibif^e fitfjle
@eit bort, in fein ^eilige 33fomim*mebine,
SSarjiort tp gemor'en fein greub' un 1 fein tiicf*
D, feit in fein Slempel guf^mettert,
@ein ^einb pt bie fiiffte ^lefemer, if nor
X)em 3itbet ber Haglic^er c^of
,2luf tt>e((^en er t^tipet nor em %flal in
SSun 3iro&frn, i5un ^aufen, sun ^arfen, un gieblen,
Sun Drgten, ^larnetten, ftaftol un' @ittar\
3P me^r nit geMieben bem aremen 3ublen
>er ftnjlerer (S^ofer, jutrudfent un* barr,
44
A medicant who has no place where to rest him-
self, with whom everybody has his sport, say, is it,
then, proper for him to think of pleasures, of gar-
dens, of balsam, of a tree, or of a flower?
And if even the Jew at times breaks forth into
song, do you imagine his song to be full of mirth ?
I hear in his melody only : " Wander and wander ! "
by every note I recognize the Jew.
If one who is well versed in music were to hear
a Jewish song, he could not abstain from shedding
tears or from being deeply moved by every sound
of it.
The ram's-horn's call to repentance and attrition
of spirit, that is now the favored Jewish melody,
a melody that wakens only feelings for the grave, a
melody that shatters a breast of steel.
The Suppliant's Psalm, the Song of Atonement,
and of the Destruction of the Temple, these are
the sweetest music of the Jew, ever since in his
holy land of balsams his joys and his happiness
have been disturbed.
Oh, ever since his enemies have shattered and
broken the sweetest instruments of music in his
Temple, there has been left to the Jew nothing but
the plaintive ram's-horn, upon which he sobs but
once a year.
Of cymbals and drums, of harps and lyres, of
organs and clarinets, flutes and guitars, there is
nothing left to the poor Jew but the gloomy ram's-
horn, withered and dry.
45
Un' n>a3 er fott flngett, un' n>ie er foil Ia$en,
Un 1 nrie er foil fpielen gar froetylidjttg fiijj,
men in Stet feinem plujjltttg ermadjen
t" ta$ erj gft a
3$ wottf, ta^t fl<$, tvotfen je^t ^eten mein Styre,
@te fott etn?a^ ta^en, eg gefyt a6er nit !
3a, Sriiberla^, erjlen^ if je^t 6ei utt^ (Sftre,
Jpeunt (lam eppes, fagt mir, tuie lat^t e$ a 3iit> ?
fjcttmtcflcn
ijaraus Me alte SDfine
n?eint un^ fagt tie Sdjitte,
^ tie 3n?eite legt bem
Un' t$ tetflen (1$ tie Xra^ren
till im 1 n?arem auf ter
nor laum gu
ijarflemmt tie alte
,,@tarfer ^>arr &tm aUe SBelten !
3^, tein 2)ienjlmoit, fc^n?ac^ un' arem,
T tie ru^ige egeltett,
'g (litte
,,5lde 33ergela^ tie fhtmme
5D7efl r id&, guter @ott, a^itnter,
2Bu e3 ru^en teine ^rumme,
X)eine (eif getiebte Winter,
46
And whatever he may sing, and however he may
laugh, and however joyously he may try to play,
one suddenly hears awakening in his song the
Suppliant's Psalm, which painfully touches the
heart.
Meseems I should like to ask my Muse to laugh
a little, but it is all in vain, for, to begin with, we
now have Sephirah, and, besides, tell me : how
can a Jew laugh at all?
The Measuring of the Graves
SEE ! In front is old Minneh and behind
Pessyeh-Tsvaitle ! Minneh weeps and says her
prayer, while the other lays the yarn.
And the tears roll, silent and hot, on the prayer-
book; sobbing, but scarcely audible, old Minneh
says, with oppressed heart :
" Strong Lord of all the worlds ! I, thy handmaid,
weak and poor, measure the quiet abodes, the still
graves of the just.
" All silent mounds I now measure, good God,
where there rest thy pious, thy warmly beloved
children,
47
jhtgen torten <5djtre
tefn (Stufjl in t)o$en immet,
3eter (Siner iwn fein >ire,
>urdj fein e&tg fugen 2>rimmel,
,,Un' ijun bem gelegten
2Cet mit gorc^tigfeit un'
9fta$ett Sid^t t>ein 5)ef jc
Urn 311 lenten, ott, bein Xore,
,,Um $it fceten tit
Dae! tn fofljl ft^on fort ter^oren
3ajn!etu^ eme^tige Xftte
Un' terfe^n 3tr0JeF 2:ra^ren !"
j9l bent lafurnem Sitft^jiam
Die (Si(^erwol!ent)Ia^ arum ;
ie (Steren fitnHett, teren leben,
)ie ^wonc nor if Metc^ itn' (litmm
rit^t bcr 2Batt> in ttefcn
e S3aitmer jle^en fc^a,
SBintele ^ewegt tie
(3 fd^Iaft tie @rV f eg (lummt tie
weit in 2BaIt un^ in (Sfafone
>er Sitter (le^t tort mit fein
(Sr if mefatefd) tie Sewone,
(Sr bet't e$ for i^r St^t agunt :
48
"Who sing the Hymns before thy throne in
the high heaven, each one from his habitation,
through his eternal, sweet dream.
"And with this measured yarn thy Pessyeh-
Tsvaitle will make candles in awe and fear, in
order, O God, to study thy Law by it,
" And to ask thy forgiveness, that thou mayest,
at last, hear Jacob's fervent prayer, and accept the
tears of Israel."
The Moon-Prayer
IN the azure aerial ocean the silver clouds
hover; stars twinkle, stars are merry, but the
moon is pale and silent.
The forest rests in deep silence ; the trees stand
hushed in meditation; not a breeze moves the
branches, earth sleeps, night is mute.
Only deep in the awful forest an old man stands
with his child : he is blessing the moon and prays
now for its light.
49
,,D, ott, id) fcet' fcei bir mit Xro^ren,
)er$oY mein gttterbigen $ol ;
($ foU ifyr djein sarboppelt mermen,
<5te foil no$ leudjten nrie a Sftal,
,,2Bie tein S3egIaitBtcr ^at gefdjrteBett t
X)te grofe 3tt?ei un ; gl
), ott, n?ie BIei$ if fie
O, Wte auHingt e^ (l(^ in
3n tiefen 2BaIt>, fein ^ei
2Bte gief en flc^ bag bte efitfjlen !
tt>enn er reb't!
@etn $tnb nor fudt, tuer lann erflaren,
SBa^ oben, in bem fclauen 3am,
@g glan^en iele tjefle (Steren,
Un ; mantle f^munften, fdjmiinHen fam ?
$tnb Betra^t e^ oben
Un' fragt bem 5llten, nit gej^ort:
), fag^ bod^, SSater, mag men glaufcen
3n bem, wa^ idj pb ; oft geprt ?
fagt, bem Sflei^en^ teren fimWt,
3f immer ett, if fianbig grof,
2)em 2lremen^ ijarfe^rt, er biinfelt,
SSarlof^t (id^, lofd^t fl$ itn' ge^t au0
,,(5(3 feinen tale ba
O borten ? @ag r bo$, ja 311 nein ?
SBebeuten fee i 9tu^ i oleg,
3 greitb', i Slenb, i etein?
50
"O God, I pray to thee in tears, hear my
trembling voice ! Let its light be doubled, let it
shine as of yore.
"As thy Trusted one has written: the two
great and equal lights ! O God, how pale it has
become, look at its mortal face ! "
Oh, how his warm prayer resounds in the silence
of the deep forest ! How his feelings flow ! How
all is silent when he speaks !
His child looks on and wonders why above, in
the blue ocean, many stars are shining bright,
while some barely, barely twinkle ?
The clever child looks on high and, without
being interrupted, asks his father : " Oh, tell me,
father, can we believe that which I have often
heard?
" They say the rich man's star sparkles, is always
bright, always large, while the poor man's star
grows dimmer, dimmer, and finally goes out?
" Are there, indeed, stars of destiny above ? Tell
me, yes or no? Do they stand for peace and
oppression, pleasure, misery and weeping ?
,,Dn fefjji tort jienent ffetnem (steren ?
3f unfer9ftafelernit? <3aa/!
SBeit unfer Sefcen trieft nor Sratyren
Un' flnjier if nn$ jeter Slag, *
,,Un' fann noc^ fein, a^ er fott glanjen,
S3ic iene tort, in golb'nem ^rac^t ?
3u loftfyt er f!c^ ba^ au^ in angen,
Sluf eMg tectt Qm gu tie
filter fneetf($t tern ^ot^en <5teren,
Wart an Sntfer far tas ^inb,
lummen <Sitfsen, lummen
SBorter nit afo
2)tc crftc
f^netb't ter grofl, ter <5htrem fejt,
3n fatten
,,9Ht f^reif f!$ ^inb, o, nta<$'
Die 3^tt tjat angewunfen t
if todj f^on tie Sunn',
mug (1$ itntertunfen,"
Sore's Stjfotim feinen grog,
ftifcfyfofdje, ma^ fein Slnue !
>u fpringjl arein wn' frringjl aratts,
Un' loWer, su mefite."
52
" Do you see over yonder the small star ? Is it
not ours ? Tell me ! For our life is heavy with
tears, and all our days are dark.
" And can it be that it will shine some day like
those others, in golden splendor ? Or will it en-
tirely go out, and will eternal night cover it? "
The old man wrinkles his high brow and thinks
of an answer for the child ; there come sobs, there
come tears, but words are late in coming. . . .
The First Bath of Ablution
THE frost cuts sharply, the storm rages, and
Basheh and Tsilleh lead now the fisherman's
daughter to the cold bath of ablution.
" Be not frightened, my child ! 'T is but a small
matter. The time has approached ; for, you see,
the sun has gone down, and you must dive under."
" The mercies of the Lord are great ! Do not
tarry, be quick ! You leap in, you leap out, and
you are ritually pure."
53
Un' fey, e3 aurft taS garte 2etB,
3n milten grojl iw' turem.
21, ttittfl tu fete a Siiten'S SBeifc,
ti$ gu Seffurtm ! . . .
(Sic frringt arein, (le frrtngt aruf,
Umfiip, umfiijl ^e^ome I
Dort (le^t utt ; futft ter
X>u fctjl ge^ticBen tome*
Un ? mteber ^a^en (1(6 gctutft
SJiit (Sc^recf tie fc^oene lieter ;
sun terweiten fte()t un' fudt
(larler wert ter groft er Brennt!
Die Gutter un 7 tie (Sc^^eene,
(See fcredjen tie gitfror'ne ^>ant' ;
Un' blei^er wert tie c^oene*
se wie ter Din i,
if f^on ter 0tofc^e,
2freitt aunt tritten $Jlal, gefc^mint !
tfetn Soef, Rte S3oef, nif$f ofte 1"
Die SBIeit^e wei^t un )in nit ab
Un' tfjut, ie ^ Wt gef^rieben :
@ie if arein, fie if arab,
Un' if f^on tort
54
And behold, the tender body shivers in the se-
vere frost and the storm. Ah, you wish to become
the wife of a Jew, so get used to suffering ! . . .
She leaps in, she leaps up ; in vain, in vain,
my dear ! There stands and looks a Gentile,
you remain impure.
And again the beautiful limbs dive under in terror,
but the uncircumcised still stands at a distance and
looks on.
The frost grows stronger and more biting. The
mother and the neighbor, they rub their frozen
hands, and the beautiful one grows paler.
" Now, do as the Law requires, my child ! The
evil man has gone away. Go in for the third time,
quickly ! It will not hurt, do not mind it ! "
The pale one does not break the Law, and does
as is written. She leaped in, she went down, and
she remained below. . . .
55
SWcmfer
S^ceber^finbcr fciflen ftcfy mit mir nit fpielen,
>er $efce ftedjt midj bnrdj mit feine 33lirfen ;
t ba far mir !ein er$ mit menfcfylidje efiitjlen,
feoflten geren midj berjhrfen. ,
SSun ^it>efc^=6ec6er, ttw t)ie ^inbcr atfe fitp^en,
jagt mit toilten ^ag an>eg ber @cbame3,
' ,,9ftamfer", tor gum Dren!obef(^ fiti) nit
SSarf^oIten feinen meine ,,t>aleb
_ gum ; ,eienen" tic ofertore,
; 3eber litter fttfc^t i^r mit a tufd)e :
jlefl* tic Stypen att^, men fttdt attf mir, a
fe^r' (tc^ ab mit 2Cetag un' mit
trac^fun' trad)f,tm' !ann mein S^et (!(% nit ertla'ren;
tt a 9ftamfer ? @agt, far tt>a mid)
Un' frag' i$ e mein Gutter, n?eint fle bitfre
@ie fuf(^t midj feeif un' iH e^ mir nit fagem
Oar anb're Winter ^at a Jate tas gtt fagen,
Un' far a 3offem fleflt flc^ 3eber liner :
^ Bin tjef!er, ie a S3Iatt ^un SBinb getragen,
etn fc^n?ac^e0 SBeifc, o, liebt micb Reiner !
Un' nw if boc^ mein 2ate ergej ^inge!ummen ?
9ttt ba fetn (Sntfer far bem 57att>enabten.
3P ^ geflorben ? at ber ^)immel t^m genummen?
fag' ic^ !ein ^abefc^ nac% mein Jaten ?
56
The Bastard
THE school children do not want to play with
me; the teacher pierces me with his look;
there is no heart with human feelings for me,
and even the best would fain strangle me. . . .
The beadle drives me away, in wild anger, from
the cup of benediction, from which all children
sip. I am called " bastard," am not allowed to
approach the Holy Ark, cursed are my " four cubits."
The Precentor carries around the Scroll before
its reading, and everybody kisses it with ardor : I
pout my lips to kiss it, they look at me in terror,
I turn away in pain and shame.
I think, and think, and cannot understand my
transgression. What does it mean " bastard " ?
Say, why do they plague me ? And if I ask my
mother, she weeps bitter tears, and kisses me fer-
vently and will not answer me.
Other children have a father for their protector,
and everybody takes the part of an orphan, but
I am forlorn, like a leaf carried by the wind, ex-
cepting a weak woman no one loves me !
And what has become of my father ! There is
no answer to the outcast. Has he died? Has
Heaven taken him ? Why do I not say the Prayer
for the Dead after my father?
57
3d) frag' bem 2Binb* Die SBelt if fhtmm ju meine
djmerjett,
3$ fyoY fein (Sntfer, tyor* fein @inem reben,
Dem (SmeS nor arne^m' ic^ ttef Bet mir in
S3in unf^ulbig un' leib umfiijle Seiben*
if fcer 9Hai gelummen
fetn SauBcr, mit fein
Sltfe rafen, aUe S3Iumen
aben micber aufgemac^t
SBieber btu^t e$ auf tte ctt>er,
2Bieber grunt e$ in tie SSalber,
SBieber glanat eS
SBieber flngt tie
SBieber ncmmt bcr grueling maten
3Kit fefn 3>tnfel ; ie er f^miert,
SBer'en Merger, wcr'en
2Berb trie SrV mit riin
SBieber lat^t bie (Sunn' arunter
3u ber 2Belt un j mad^t iljr muntcr :
i^r @4met$el, ntit i^r
(!e grett i
fangt an gu griinen,
SBunberfc&oene ^antajlen
Sie^en burd^ 'n erjen jliU ;
olbenc (E^atome^ fdjwefcen
Un' fee njeten
9leue $immten,
Un' fee ttjeden
58
I ask the wind. The world is mute to my suffer-
ings ; I hear no answer ; I hear no one speaking,
I only hear the truth deep in my heart : I am in-
nocent, and suffer vain sufferings.
The Jewish May
A GAIN May has come with its charm, with its
.I\glory: All grasses, all flowers have again
awakened from their slumbers. Again it blooms
in the fields, again it grows green in the woods,
again there is splendor everywhere, again the night-
ingale sings.
Again Spring begins to paint with its brush ; as
it paints, mountains, and valleys, and the whole
earth clothes itself in green. Again the sun smiles
down upon the world and makes it merry : with its
smile, with its kiss it prepares it for pleasures. . .
At once every human feeling begins to grow green
and bloom, wonderful melodies pass quietly through
the heart. Golden dreams hover and weave new
59
Sefcen,
Utt' e$ flerfeit
litcfett,
erqutrfen.
iljr fe$t tort Sittem treteit,
tfitdenbtg 3 b'r <tb' arab ?
2luf t)te gritne SJlaita^etett
iiftt er, f^ollentig tern $opp,
Sinfam mit fein fdjweren Summer
c^t er, abgelebt un' mitt>,
@ein gef^matfer SJZat, feitt Summer
lang fcfyon, lang
SBeigt i^r, lennt i^r jettem
2Beld)er
SWit a f^recflic^en ebanfen
Un' a fhirmifdjen emitt ?
Unfer SHter, unfer 3itb !
^eine fiigc ^tjcmtajlen
Un' Kin ^offnung itt feitt
feitt
alte,
SReefiim, 2Weef(!m, Xrupeg falte,
3et>er S3(um^ utt' ieber Dorett
Ireibt mit im a tlben
T)er (Stafwit fudt 5tt tnit
Un' bte ^ra^e ft^reit mit
60
heavens, and call forth new life, and there are a
thousand happinesses to quicken every heart.
But, behold, you see there one treading with
downcast looks ! Upon the green tapestry of May
he sobs and shakes his head. Lonely, with his
heavy sorrow, he walks, worn out and tired, his
pleasant May, his summer, has faded long, long ago !
Do you recognize, do you know that sick one
who walks, where everything blooms, with a terrible
thought, with a stormy spirit? Our old acquain-
tance, our Jew ! No sweet fancies, no hope in his
look ; through his heart pass sorrows, old wounds,
that bring back old recollections : corpses, corpses,
cold dead bodies, old youth, old happiness.
Every flower and every thorn has its sport with
him : the onion stalk looks gloomy, and the crow
cries in anger. Strange are to him the flowers,
61
ftremb bie 23Iumen, fremb bte flatter,
gremb bie SBett, a frember mail
ffrembe SSoegel, frembe otter,
grembe 5ftenf$en, TO sat&et! .
nit, 33Ittmen, nor nit fpotten !
feit) f(^oen ; gewip, gen?if !
iel ft^onere gutretcn
ber 3u*> ntit feinc gu',
i)itU mit ^omeran^en
in fetn Sanb geglangt,
etne wunberf^ocne
J^at fetn ott aflein i
Bragt bie
gragt bent (Sc^oren^ gritne SJJtyrt'!
D, fee rotten no(^ ber!onnen
abgelebten SBtrt
bem fdjoenem ^ar^afeefjlm,
bem ^armel, jeben S3aum,
bte atte ft^oene ^eefftm
bem fdjoenem alten Xranm <
3n fetn ^eiltger S0?ebine
at aneeben^luft gefd^metft,
3n fetn Sentpel Jat bte c^^ine
tanbtg |Idj jn i|m entpledft
STaufenb Snget |jflegen fptelen
3n fetn tyeiligen ejelt,
laufenb grenben ^flegt er fittjlen,
Breuben un an anber 2Qelt
62
strange the leaves, strange the world, a strange
May ! Strange the birds, strange the gods, strange
the people, all that is not for him.
Laugh not, flowers, do not scorn ! You are
beautiful, no doubt, no doubt ! but much more
beautiful ones the Jew has trod under his feet. . . .
Fields full of oranges have gleamed in his country,
and his beautiful plants were planted by God him-
self. .
Ask the cedars of the Lebanon, ask the green
myrtle of the Sharon ! Oh, they will still recog-
nize their wearied host, ask the beautiful Olive
Mount, ask the Carmel, and ask every tree : ask all
those dead beauties for that old and beautiful
dream ! .
In his holy land there breathed air of Paradise,
in his Temple the Godhead has always manifested
itself; thousands of angels used to play in his
tents ; he experienced thousand pleasures, joys of
another world.
Morten $at a 9ftal ber 3ubel
SSun a wunbemic^e giebel
2fu3getufd)t tie fdjonfh Sieber,
SBetdje flatten tHn SRat tweber
9fttt bemfelfeen fitgcn 3auBer,
Sftein un' etltg, rein un ? fauber,
Sluf a 2Berfcc*baum, a (lummc,
ber potent un metn Ume*
iener potent,
tit d^otemt un fcas 9leu
bu, 3iit> ? SSun eiten.
Sfluft stt bit a neuer ^ai.
SBetn' nit, fctft noc^ nit arlorcn,
bu Mjl un ?eiben miib,
gute 3af)ren
SBtnfen fd^on ju bit, tnein 3iib !
^)or(l bu btttdj bic SBoIfen jie^en
SJMobien,
bu, tyorjl bem neuen Sieb ?
35Mebet wet betn @frcg fdjmetfen,
langen n?et bein Sl^^etpn' ;
SBtcber wet fld^ ott eriverfen
Un ; wet brengen bid^ a^in*
n?ejl bu ^irtentieber,
od^ beine <5$af ;
wejl bu, tefcen trieber,
ebig, ol)n' a @fof
bein fdjretflicfyet
bu axemen mit
Untet'm (lummen S3arg
64
There, at one time, the Jew drew out the sweetest
songs from an instrument of wonderful sweetness,
songs which never sound again with the same sweet
charm, pure and holy, pure and chaste : upon a
willow, silent, hangs the dream of my nation. . . .
Yes, that dream is passed, but you dream anew,
do you hear, Jew, from afar a new May calls out
" Peace " to you? Weep not, you are not yet lost,
though you are faint with sufferings, new years,
good years already beckon to you, my Jew ? Do
you hear passing through the clouds heavenly rich
melodies, sweet harmonies of Cherubim ? Do you
hear, do you hear the new song?
Again your lime will be fragrant, and your orange
will gleam, again God will awaken and bring you
thither ! You will sing shepherd songs as you will
herd your sheep ; you will live again, live eternally,
without end. After your terrible wanderings you
will again breathe freely; there will again beat a
hero's heart under the silent mountain Moriah.
Werner feet bi$ nte^r nit treikn
Sftit (silfulim otyn' a Qa^l ;
3n ber eim feejl bit sarfcletoen,
@tttt un' rutjig, feie a 9ftaf.
ref fananber nor bie tefdjte
SSitn bcin alien SBaterlanb,
'$ glit^t nodj bort ein ^alemefc^f
S3ei ber eingefalFner SKanb ! .
jitbifrfjcr
feett itn ^tetuno, nor a Jjitnbert fitfgtg Xrttt,
3f ba a ^eemer, aber Reiner fefyt i^m nit ;
Der Ort if einfam un' sarlafen un' allein ;
X)ort liegt fetn ^ranj, bort (le^t fetn S^amorftein ;
2)ort wac^ft fein rafele, Icin Slitmete, fein 33Iatt;
2)ort ru^t a toter elb, a jitbif^er (Solbat,
21 jiibifdjer olbat, gefatlen ba in $rteg,
SluJIanb ^at gefeiert jlolj i^r gro^ten
21 ttefe, tote ttflfeit ^errf^t bort runb arum;
if efngefcfylafen, ru^tg, (litl nn 7 ftumm ;
faum f(^Iagt au0 ber Xurem^faeger ^alB
21 flarter ^i^rat^-jlurem bte ^tnuf ern?ac&t,
Un' eg getirittert, nn' e0 fhiremt, nn' e0 fc^recft,
S^ laremt un e^ gilbert, gewalbewet un 7 werft,
Un' un bem (Sturem fpalt't f!^ auf bie flumme
Der ^)e(b jh$t auf un ^eetver mit 'n blanfen
@r (letlt f!$ auf ber ^ejlung mit a wilben
Un' un ber SBunb' oei i^m in Bergen giegt ftc^ 33Iut;
@ fleijt fein reine S3(ut, bie SBunb' in er$ if grog,
Un' er $e&t auf fein fc^arfen <5$wert un' bunnert au^ :
66
No one will drive you, with oppressions without
end, you will stay at home, quietly and peacefully
as of yore. Walk along the bypaths of your old
fatherland, there is still a spark of life left in the
brand near the ruined wall !
The Jewish Soldier
NOT far from Plevno, but a hundred and fifty
steps away, there is a grave, visible to none.
The place is lonely, lost and lorn ; no wreath lies
there ; there stands no marble stone ; there grows
no grass, no flower, no leaf, there rests a dead
hero, a Jewish soldier, fallen there in battle, where
Russia has proudly celebrated her greatest victory.
A deep, dead stillness reigns there round about.
Everything has fallen asleep ; all is quiet, still and
mute. As soon as the tower clock strikes at mid-
night, a strong east wind begins at once to blow
and it thunders, and it storms, and it wakes, it
clamors and it clatters, roars and calls, and from
the storm the silent earth cleaves open, and the
hero rises from his grave with his drawn sword.
He stands upon the fortress with grim courage,
and blood flows from the wound in his heart. His
pure blood flows freely, for the wound in his heart
is great, and he lifts his sharp sword and thunders :
67
auf, i$r $rfeg$*c(jaweerim, gum eridjt e
@agt, @ebe$, pfc' id) treu genug gefampft in <SdjIad)t ?
<5agt, otn i$ nit far ^uflaub'S <l)re, SRugtanb'3 Sftetdj,
efaflen auf tern $lafc mit afle elben
Un' n?ie fein SDort sarfltngt, ermad^en nttt a
e(, tt?ie @amb bei 'm 33reg i)itn flttten 3am ;
ganjc ^riegewolf jle&t auf 311 fein SSartang,
SSitn na^nten wn' itn metten fummt bet f(^n?erer ang
@3 n>erb a Xupperei, eg tvert a ^lingerei,
SI efjeret, a X)re^erei, a pringerei,
Un' jeter (Sottner fc^reienbig ^e^t auf feiu Jpanb
tin' fc^wort : ,,>u ttjl geftorien e^rli^ far bein Sanb !
Un' balb merb ieber jliU, fein $0$, tern SaineS nte^r ;
23arf$nwnben tuerb bie gauge 9ftacf)ne fWtltt&r ;
auf ber gejlung jle^t ber fitbifc^er olbat,
jebe^ SBort if bort a glit^enber ranat :
), 3fluglanb! ^afl mi$ un mein SBeiB un' ^inb
gefc^etb't !
eftorfcen Bin ic^ far bein (Sfjre Junger^eit !
arjag(i bu meine (Slenbe agiinb ?
a tiefen, fdjtueren ftlufy bir burdj bem SDinb I"
Un' faum ar$ilc(jt bem @$ilter' ^lote, ttutl mit
Jragt i^m ber turem in ber falter rub' aretn,
Un' 5^a^t nac^ 5^a*t, ot ri^tig gu berfelber 3eit,
SCerb bort biefelbe (Scene sun ba$ 5^eu beneu't
Dem <S6ttner'3 tiefe, Were ^toleg HeiBen fl*, a
Un 7 mel)ren jl<$, un ? me^ren f!$, un' tragen fld& ameg
2(uf S^ugten tnm bem @turem mit a tmlbe
3n atfc^tna, un' fpretten (l^ bort au0 auf a
68
" Arise, comrades of war, arise to the judgment !
Say witnesses, have I fought faithfully in the battle ?
Tell me, did I fall upon this spot, together with
other heroes, for Russia's honor, for the country
of Russia ? "
And as his words are silenced, in anger an innu-
merable host awakens, like sand on the shore of a
quiet ocean, the whole army arises at his request.
From near and from afar comes the heavy troop :
there is a tramping, clanging, marching, whirling,
galloping, and every soldier lifts his hand and
swears : "You died honorably for your land? "
And soon all grows quiet again ; there is no tur-
moil, no sound is heard ; the whole host of soldiers
disappears, but the Jewish soldier still stands upon
the fortress, and every word of his is a glowing
grenade : " O Russia ! You have separated me
from my wife and child ; I died young, defending
your honor. Why do you now drive away my
wretched family? I send a heavy curse to you
through the wind ! "
And scarcely has the curse, freighted with
pain, been uttered, the storm carries him back into
the cold grave. And night after night, exactly at
the same time, the same scene is renewed. The
soldier's deep, heavy curses gather awfully, and
grow and grow, and are carried away on the wings
of the storm in wild haste to Gatchina, and are
there scattered over the palace.
69
5(uf 'n HBufen bun 3am
f$red(idjer SBinb, ber gefcirHd)er turem,
@r rangeft fid) tort mit a cfyijf auf 'n Sfteer ;
(r mitl fie subredjen, un' fie tnit 3effurim
cfyneib't burdj afle Xiefenig,
@ tref^tf^et t>er ^a^aum, ber @egel, er stttert,
2)er raufdjenber SBajfer if morebig tief ;
3 fdmpfen mit 3>^ en / e $ flreiten arbittert
Sot un' auf Se^en ber SBtnb mit ber djiff,
)t mug ffe ftc^ tegen, ot mu3 fie ftcfj flellen,
Dt tretbt e3 auritcf i^r, ot treiit e$ ijarau^,
51 pielc^el if ifcter bie @$ijf bei bie SGeUen,
fc^Ungen fie ein un' fee fpeien fie au$,
gg taremt ber 3am ; un' es ^eben fi
@$ ^uget, e^ pilbert mit (Sdjrerf un' mit raul ;
$)er turem, ber a$Ieu, will umbrengen
)er Sfyom offent auf fein arfc^Iof ene Want.
$3 ^oren ft(% ufjen, e3 ^ort M ein
>$ if grog bie fafone, '$ if f^recflic^ bie
UrC 3eberer bet't 6ei fein ott, er foU retten,
S3efreien bie SO^enf^en un fic^eren Jot,
metnen bie ^inber, ea flagen bie S3eiber,
fc^reit un' men if ftc^ mi^mabe ajitnb :
S^ flatteren @eelen, e3 sitteren Seiber
SSar c^recf ar bem boefen, ijarnid^tenben 2Binb*
70
On the Bosom of the Ocean
r I ^HE terrible wind, the dangerous storm, is
J_ wrestling with a ship on the ocean ; it is trying
to break her, but she in distress cuts through the
deep, groaning heavily.
The mast cracks, the sail trembles, frightful is
the depth of the roaring waters ; the wind struggles
desperately with the ship in a life and death com-
bat.
Now she must lie down, now again she must rise,
now she is driven back, now forward ; the ship
is a plaything of the waves that swallow her up and
spit her out again.
The ocean roars, the billows rise, and lash, and
thunder in awful terror, the murderous storm wants
to destroy everything, the abyss opens up its
closed jaws.
There are heard sighs and prayers. Great is the
danger and dreadful the calamity, and everybody
prays to his God that He may save and liberate
the people from sure death.
Children weep, women wail ; the people cry and
confess their sins ; souls flutter, bodies tremble in
terror of the angry, destructive wind.
unten, in 3wif(|enbe(f, flfcen gmei Scanner
rufytg, fee titfcrt ntt ber mtnbejhr
(See fudjen fein SHettung, fee Haren fein
2Bie TO woflt' fein jl$er un' pill arum fee*
taremt bag 2Bajfer, bfe SBeflen, fee fcfjaumen,
n?ojet, e^ ntoiet mefdjwte ter 2Binb ;
ffappet ber ^ejfet, e0 ^ujet ber ^omen;
unten tie S^ei, fe^t, fee f^weigen
<5ee fucfen ntit ^attfeit bent Slot in bie
(See ritfyrt nit bem (Sturem^ gefa^rli^e
S^ fc^eint, a^ ber ot pt atlein nor eqogen
(See 53eiben, in (S^red un' in ftnjlerer
,,2Der feib i$r, Ungliitflt^e, lafjl
a3 fonnen arfc^tt?eigen bie gmalbtgfle
pben fetn Sufsen, un ? fyafcett fetn
3lft(e bei'm f^rerfttdjen J^oer Dun Jot?
t, tjaoen euc^ tafe nor ^mortm gefcoren ?
3^r lafjl gar fetn (Stteren, SBeib ober
3u tueinen auf euc^, ttjenn_i|r tuerb't ba
3n tiefen, in f<$recf licfyen ^bgrunb
,,2Bie ? Saffl i^r nit $einem, n?a^ i^m fot( t>arbrieffcn,
2Ba3 er fott toenn Baenfen, 311 lafen a Jra^r,
SGenn eudj wet ber najfer S3ej|o(em sjargieffen,
SBenn i^r wet ba fein Sftat aurittffe^ren me^r ?
,,ffile? Wt i^r fein 3Satertanb gar, fetn
^etn ^eim, aw gu fummen, fetn freunblt^c
2Ba3 i^r p r t be^alten in ft* afa (Bjlne
Sum Seben un 7 wart't auf ber finjhrer
72
But below, in the steerage, two men sit quietly ;
no pain assails them ; they seek no salvation, they
make no plans, just as if all were safe and calm
about them.
The water roars, the billows foam; the wind
whines and howls insanely; the boiler gasps, the
chimney buzzes, but the men below, behold,
they are silent now !
They look coolly into the eyes of Death; the
dangerous might of the storm touches them not;
it seems as though Death had reared the two in
terror and dark night.
" Who are you, wretched ones, tell me, that you
can suppress the most terrible sufferings, that you
have no sighs and no tears even at the awful gates
of Death?
" Say, have, indeed, graves brought you forth ?
Do you leave behind you no parents, no wife, no
child who will lament you when you are lost here
in the deep and dreadful abyss?
" How ? Have you no one to be sorry for you, to
long for you, or shed a tear, when the wet ceme-
tery will cover you, when you will no more return
to this earth?
" How ? Have you no fatherland, no country, no
home where to go to, no friendly house, that you
bear such a contempt for life, and are waiting for
the dark grave ?
73
,,3fyr p't gar nit tfeinem in immel bort often,
3u emen ju fcfyreien, feenn ityr feib in 3 ?
3$r $a't gar fein SSott nit, i$r $a't gar fein lauben?
23ariorene, aa* if mit eu$ far a far?"
($ ganejt ber iBgrunt>, eg Braufen bie
@g !rad^en bie Setter^ un c^iff, un ? e^ tragt,
@g ^ulet ber turem, e0 pfeifen bie SBinben,
Un ? iiner tyat enbli^ mit Xra^ren gefagt :
,,Der f^roarger S3e(folem if nit unfer Gutter,
9Zit if unfer SBteget ber ^een?er genje'n ;
($ pt nn^ gefcoren a ^ala^ a guter,
51 teuere Gutter, mit Ciebe
,,@^ |at un^ gepjejlet a SDtame, er^ogen
21 jartlit^e, mareme, freunbli^e S3ru(l ;
eftc^ett tin' ftanbtg gefucft in bie 2lngen
un^ au(| a SSater, un' Utility gefufjl,
ifja&en a ^>au^ nor men tjat (ie
Un ; unfere ^etUgfie ac^en ijarbrennt,
2)te SieBfle un' 33e(le uarwanbelt in
)ie fie^te arjagt mit gebunbene
fenn^ unfer 2anb, o, fie lajt fify berfennen :
>itrd) 3agen, bur^ t^lagen nit roerenbig mitb^
twilbe $)ogromen, burc^ Srec^en, bnrt^ S3rennen,
(Suc^en bem Xot far bem elenben 3iib
,,Un' mir feinen 3uben, tjarmogelte
D^n'greunb un'ofjn' ^reuben, o^n'^offnung auflii(I,-
9lit fragt me^r, o, fragt nit, o, fe^t, lafft gufrieben!
2lmerifa treibt uns na
74
" Have you no one in heaven above to whom to
cry when you are in trouble ? Have you no nation,
have you no faith? Miserable ones, what is your
destiny?"
The abyss yawns, the waves bellow, the ship-
ladders crack, the storm rages madly, the winds
whistle, and finally one said in tears :
"The black cemetery is not our mother, the
grave has not been our cradle ; a good angel has
borne us, a dear mother, endowed with love.
"A mother has fondled us, a tender, warm,
friendly breast has nurtured us ; a father, too, has
stroked us and looked into our eyes, and kissed us
tenderly.
" We have a house, but it has been destroyed, and
our holy things have been burned ; our dearest and
best have been turned into bones, and those who
survive have been driven away with fettered hands.
" You know our country ; it is easily recognized
by its unceasing baiting and beating, by its cruel
riots, its ruthless destruction, and dealing death to
the wretched Jew.
" Yes, we are Jews, miserable Jews, without friends
or joys, without hopes of happiness. Oh, ask us
no more, ask no more, oh, leave us in peace !
America drives us back to Russia,
75
ftuglanb, sun ivannen mir fetncn antloffen,
Sftufjlanb berfar, n>a$ mir fyaben fein elb ;
2Utf n?a$ bteibt uns itgter gu marten, gu tjoffen?
taua; un3 ba$ 2eben, bte ftnfiere SBelt ?
,,3r Ija't n?aa gu njeinen, i^r ^a't n?a^ au Brummen,
3|r $a't ta0 ju fc^rciJen P(^ t^t far tern Jot,
3^r fca't gewtg 5ltle a $eim, n?u gtt fummen,
Un ; fa^rt un 5lmerifa auc^ nit au^ 9tot
mir feincn Slcnbe, gletdj s t)ie tetner :
>ie (SrV if git f^te^t, im$ 311 f^enlen an Drt
9Jttr fa^rcn, boi.leiber, e^ tuart't auf itn^ Reiner,
SrHdrt mir, tdj M eu^, tuu reifcn mir fort !
jhirmen ber 2Binb, foU er fcrummen mit
fteben, foU !oc^en, foil rauf^en ber runb !
2)enn ^ fei tine '$ fei feinen mir 3iit)en arloren,
)er 3am nor uarlofcfyt unfer orennenbe
ic Si^tdarfdufcrtn
^57 ^eflerjlrit, leoen a
din areme grau jt^t bort a,lei$ 311 a
51 fcetnerner ^)onim un' blei(^ tote ber ot,
fenntig, bie S3adfen gewe'n a 3Jial rot ;
SKottag, un' greunbfdjaft, un' Siebe, un'
(See Ija&en getuig ba^ nit djorero gemac^t
@ie (l^t bort, bie 23teidje, un SBeinen ^atb fcttnb,
3^r S3rufl gie^t a barr'3, a ijarmoreteg ^inb,
Das faugt, un' ba^ tueint, un' ba^ f^taft, un' mit SBelj
(Sprtngt auf ba^ <5felettel un ^ame*0 efd^rei :
r ,^duft, 2BeiberIa$, Si^telac^, awet far brei
3luf mir afa S'lafeT, tvie Udjttg bas brennt!"
76
" To Russia, whence we have run away, to Russia,
because we have no money. What is there left for
us to expect, to hope for? Of what good is life,
and the gloomy world to us ?
" You have something to weep for ; you have rea-
son to murmur and to be afraid of death ! You
have, no doubt, a home where to go to, and you
have left America not from necessity.
" But we are forlorn and alone like a rock : Earth
is too mean to give us a resting place; we are
voyaging, but, unfortunately, no one waits for us.
Explain to me, pray, whither we are bound !
" Let storm the wind, let it howl in anger : let the
deep seethe, and boil, and roar ! However it be,
we Jews are lost, the ocean alone can allay our
burning wound. . . ."
The Candle-Seller
IN Hester street, near a telegraph post, a poor
woman sits like unto a corpse : her face is bony
and as pale as death, and it is evident that her
cheeks have once been red, but ease and friend-
ship, and love and glory are certainly not the cause
of their desolation. The pale one sits there, half-
blind with weeping, while a weazen, half- starved
child tugs at her breast : it suckles, and weeps, and
sleeps, and with pain the little skeleton awakens
from mama's crying: "Buy, good women, some
candles, two for three cents ! May my star shine
as brightly as these ! "
77
3fjr (S-^ore if winjifl, itjr JWrBete Hetn,
Dodj fianbtg ernafyrt ftd) bie <Sc()n?adje atlein :
3n 8djnee un' in Sftegen, in grofl un' in
Die areme 3itbene fit mit iljr $inb ;
@ie fyanbeft un ; fyanbelt in 3 a * un' in
Doc^ pt fie fefn ^eint, un ? fetn $ieit>, un' fein 33rot;
tin' auf er bem @Iu|), o tern fhtmmen, mir f^eint,
5Sarmogt (!e fein $orem, fein ^a^nteren ^eunt) ;
)o$ c^otf^ (te if elent>, ijartafen un ? franf,
SSartangt fie un ^etnem, un' bet't fein efdjanf,
Wit @^aBe4i(^t tyantelt PC, fo mie i^r fetjt,
Diefeibe au faufen, if ads, tva^ fie
Sefoweb bem <2>$aBe3, tem.^eiltgen
Sanft 3et>er in 3Karft, mit a <3ftm<$e, mit
@3 tummlen fic^ SJlenfc^en a^er un' a^in,
2)o(^ Itegt tie 33ard)ofd)ec(jte ^'einem in
2Ber barf tfjre areme Si^tla^, bie $aar?
57ac^ ^leifc^, un j nad^ gif$, nn' nat^ SBein lauft men
)te c^rna^e flettt aus i^re magere ^anV:
t, SBei&erladj, St^telac^, gtrei far brei (Sent I"
er prt i^r Steben? SSartoren tuerb bort
(Stimme bie fd^mac^e ; men tyort nit a SBort,
bie 3epme bie Heine in djoof,
prt ?Wame^ (Scfyreien, boc^ m$ fummt
, tie fang wet bort t)<wblen in
Die elenb eHieBene, franfli(| nn' blag ?
2Bte lang fann fie letben noc^ hunger nn'
@i^ rangtenbig ra! mit bem f^redti^en Slot ?
2Bte (ang, o, tuie lang et bie areme SBetfc
fpeifen bem 5^efef^ tva^ liegt M bem
Wai pflegt ba^ ^tnb ^otf$ berfcfytingen a
i^t, fame's Sugen, fee tveinen nit meljr. . . ,
78
Her wares are few, and her basket is small, but
the weak woman earns her sustenance through this
alone. In snow and in rain, in frost and in wind,
the poor Jewess sits there with her child ; she trades
and trades in sorrow and in pain, and yet she has
no home, no garment, and no bread ; and besides
that silent post, it seems to me, she has no relatives,
no near friend ; but though she is miserable, for-
lorn, and sick, she begs from no one, and asks no
gift : she sells Sabbath candles, as you see, and
all she asks is that people should buy them.
To honor the Sabbath, the holy visitant, every-
body hurries to the market place, with joy in his
heart. People swarm in all directions, but no one
thinks of the wretched woman. There is no
time to care for a few of her candles, while they
are all hastening to buy meat, fish, and wine. The
weak woman stretches out her lean hands : " Buy,
good women, candles, two for three cents ! " but
who hears what she says? Her feeble voice is lost
there ; no one hears a word but the little orphan in
her lap, she hears mama's crying, but that is of
no avail.
Pray, how long will that wretched, sickly, and
pale woman trade there in the street ? How much
longer can she suffer hunger and privations, strug-
gling all the time with terrible death ? How long,
oh, how long will the poor woman feed the being
that nestles to her body? Formerly the child used
to swallow a tear, but now, mama's eyes weep no
79
9Ut ba metjr tetn Xra^ren, bet Sttoadj if lefjr,
>a$ er$ if gu&roc&en, ber 2lttyem if fitter ;
)ie Stppen nor mnrmlen no$ faum an$ mtt
,,flauft <Sdja6e3*Iic&t, 2Beifcerta<$, tauft $otfd> a jroet ! "
3n ejhrjrrtt, fttfl n' ttarlafett, atlein,
21 3ojfemct jle^t fcort, a ^orfcele Hein,
2)erbei jlt a fatter, ttargtiwerter Xru)),
>ie arcme joc^crte, tctcn a <5lup.
2)ertt>eirc ^at Reiner fcemerft not^ tern
(3 feinen bte JReid^c ttartpn tntt tern
^eunt tcr reb% bie frumme, tie fofdjere
@ee pben gen?ig @re*f$ci6e$ fein
2lfo if bie Scene ateg nit betra^t't,
23t$ tangfam un' (liK if gefummen bie
efummen if au<^ itn bent plige
men in
if i^t Itfttig, un'
)er Safen fingt fitg, $fle pren p ein ;
Do(^ feas if bie 5^'nore afo n?ie in 2:raum ?
2)te Sicfyt, tt>e(c^e fletfen bort, fc^miin!(en fi$ faum !
)ie 2t4tfa4 fee feinen bod), n>eift bu ed nit?
>er grau^, a^ if fritter geftorfcen in @trit
X)a^ ^a^en bie SRet^e, bie gritmme
gar ityr mit i^r ^inb ba gu Brennen bie
)ie SReic^e, bie grnmme, fee weiffen bie
(See gunben ba^ an ber eftorfcener^
)ie 3tetc^e, bie grumme, n?a^ art fee a uf ?
, ba$, fe^t i^r, ba^ ^e&en fee ttf* ,
D, ^eiltge 8i$t ! 3^r fefb (ebe$ ajiinb,
W* R5t $5t berf^lagen ba Gutter un'
21^ ba, wu ^tUionen fcarnu&t men ^um (Spa,
I)a lajjt men ^ar^ungeren ^enfc^cn in ajf ;
80
more. . . . There are no more tears, the brain is
empty, the heart is broken, the breath is heavy ; the
lips barely murmur in pain : " Buy Sabbath candles,
good women, buy but two of them ! "
In Hester street, quiet, forlorn, and alone,
orphaned stands there a basket small ; close by
sits a stark cold body, the poor candle- seller,
near the post. No one as yet has noticed the
corpse, for the rich are now busy with their feast-
ing, and as for the good, pious, people, they
certainly have no time on the Sabbath eve. And
so the incident passed away unnoticed, until, slowly
and quietly, the night came, and with it, from her
holy abode, came also Princess Sabbath, now
people go to the Synagogue. . . .
In the Synagogue all is light, and clean, and
solemn ; the cantor sings sweetly, all listen in de-
votion ; but why does the chandelier look as if in a
dream ? The candles that are placed on it barely
twinkle ! The candles, do you not guess it, are
those of the woman who but lately died in the
street. The rich and the pious have bought them,
that they might burn that night for her and her
child; the rich and the pious, they know their
duty, they have lit the candles of the dead
woman ; the rich and the pious, what care they
for the body? Souls, you see, they have to save. . .
O holy candles ! You are now witnesses that
misery has killed mother and child, that there
where millions are spent for pleasure, people are
allowed to starve in the street; where money is
6 81
, aitf SuritS n?u (Mb toerb
3f far bent ebrudten arfc$Ioffen bie
Se^alft euer glamm', o, i^r tyeilige Si
53ig jenem attmat^tigen ag ttun eric^t!
Un ; bann, fear eredjtfgteft'S ^immlif^en
3^r reine ^efc^omeg^Ii^t, bann gitnb't ft(^ an !
Un' foil euer ^lamrn' fagen (Sebe^ auf bent,
Un' foU er arbammen bie falfc&e
82
lavished on honors and luxury, the hands are closed
for the oppressed. Keep your flame, O holy can-
dles, up to the terrible day of judgment ! And then
be lit again, you pure lights, for the soul, before the
heavenly throne of justice, and may your flame bear
witness, and condemn the false system ! . . .
MISCELLANEOUS
J
jene 23ergla$ fcorten,
'3n an itmettgen l)al,
Siegt an alter Sotengarten,
2l(te ^njorim, flummc tetner,
2)t(! mtt SSftodj bema^f^n, gritn;
tiff if fcorten, felten (Siner
SBagt ftdj no(^ gu ge|n a^in*
Sllte 2Bcrbe3, t>arre Saunter
trauerta, an^eg,
, f^meigen, fiifle Jraumer,
SBarfen raul un ftd^ mi'
ijargmeifelt warft fein Sleugel
t>ie S3erglac^, mtt a Se^,
>er gef^madfjler @inger*oegel f
j
Jrauerlteblac^ f!ngt er,
@prtngent>ig fcun @fen! gu fetil t
Bar bte flitmme ^)effer flingt er
SWit a gottlic^en elenf.
86
The Cemetery Nightingale
T)ETWEEN the hills of a melancholy valley
JD there lies an old garden of the dead, with
tombstones without end.
Old graves, silent stones, thickly overgrown with
moss, and green ; all is quiet, seldom one ven-
tures to show himself there.
Old willows, withered trees look around in sad-
ness, stand in silence, still dreamers, and spread
awe and terror around them.
In despair and in pain the sweetest singing bird,
the cemetery nightingale, casts his eyes upon the
hills.
Sweet songs of sorrow he sings, flitting from
branch to branch, and attunes his divine instru-
ment for the silent dreamers.
87
21$, fete jtttren fetne Sreflen
3fetf$eit Jene $n>orim bort !
)a!e t)ort if ifjm gefaflen
(stngen, auf bem uten*)rt
9tit un Srityltng'S fiifj en SBetter,
9ttt &un @ngel, nit *wn otter
(Singt ter e^rlic^er ^)oet ;
9ltt un gelber, nit sun
un $wortm, ta^ er
(Stenb fefjt er, 57ot un'
SBunben tragt er tief in er$en,
9lit getinbert, nit geflittt;
em grogen
er trauertge
timmt er an fein Jparf un' fpielt
git bie tinmen in
8eBen' Wonjie Winter, (grbrt Sprung,
' gelufc^t, gewebt un (Stfyer un'
eingige artraute ^ameraben !
f was feib al^ gru^UngggajV t>a eingelaben,
3ufrtetene nor fummt ttyr in S3erii^rung,
oleiot ir bem, wa^ feert in 9lot arfatten.
Suer lanj nor f<$mef$elt gu tie fatte 33rwim,
2Ba3 ber ^afel ^at befc^onfen nor mit Iiirf en :
>em, wa0 ber lafurner ^tntmel djanfet, glan^t i^m,
^ummt i^r djeenetobfg nod^, S3(umen, itn ; befranjt itjrn ;
fjremb ^aroleibt i^r aber bem, n?a^ in 3nuim
23aVt (ic^ bort, lu 2eben^ fdfyroere Saflen briiden,
88
Oh, how his trills vibrate among these graves !
Of all places he has chosen this, the " good place "
in which to sing.
Not of spring's balmy weather, not of angels, not
of Gods the honest poet sings ; not of fields, not of
rivers which now belong to the rich, but of graves
which he sees.
He sees misery, oppression and pain ; he carries
wounds deep in his heart, which are not soothed,
not staunched. Upon the great cemetery of the
world he groans sad psalms, attunes his harp and
plays upon it.
To the Flowers in Autumn
FLOWERS, most beautiful children of life, orna-
ments of earth, sun-kissed, woven of ether and
sunbeams, only trusty comrades of love, who are
hailed here as guests in spring, you come in contact
only with those who are contented, you remain
strangers to him who has fallen into adversity.
Your splendor smiles only upon well-fed people
on whom destiny has showered fortunes; you,
flowers, come with gracious smile and adorn him
whom the azure sky flatters with its sunshine ; but
you remain strangers to him who is drowned in sor-
row where the heavy burdens of life oppress him.
89
S)ort, nw Curus, Sfjuspe un' emeintjeit
eben bie mit (tyrlt$fett gefarfcte gliigel,
Dort fcejlngen eudj ber Diane's fiige oner,
@atte grauen patfttyen SBramo, fatte banner;
Dorten gtanst i^r auf tie S3rufl un freeze c
nem (Ste
5Darum art mid^ ft nit, tuenn i(^ fe^ eu$ flarBen,
^iimmert mi4 nit, wetm i ^or' bem ^erBjlmtnb fcrummem
9lit far mir Ja't itjr geblii^t in liekn (Summer,
mt gu mir ^a't i^r a,ef$met<$elt in mein Summer,
'$ fei nrie ' fei nor feinen fremb mir eu're garden,
SBelft ! 3^ iaV far eu<$ lein STra'^r, i^r f^oene 23htmen !
l Xraum
if jHtt arum,
jtorben, (lumm,
tfein @*orc^, lein Diep, fein
3n Xieffeit un t>er
2Bte burt^ a 3^^
Setueifl fie |l^ ar mir.
31 Honbe, f^oene SBeiB,
2Bie djnee if weig i^r
sftor blag bie S3ato, Hag ;
>ie gutter fe(l un' ?(ar,
SSargiert mit golb'ne aar,
nag bie 3lugen, nag*
90
There where luxury, impudence, and vulgarity
raise their wings that are painted in colors of hon-
esty, the sweet sounds of the piano sing of you,
while well-fed men and women applaud ; there you
shine upon the breasts of impudent beauties, and
crown the polished mirror of wantonness.
Therefore I do not care if I see you dying now ;
I do not care, hearing the howling of the autumn
wind. You did not bloom for me in lovely sum-
mer, you did not smile on me in my sorrow ; in-
deed your colors are strange to me. Fade ! I
have no tear for you, beautiful flowers !
Liberty
A Dream
WHEN everything is quiet all around, as silent
as if dead, and there is no rustle, no sound,
no stir, in the depth of night, as if by magic, she
appears before me.
A beautiful blond woman, her body is as white
as snow, but pale her cheeks are, pale ; her strong
shoulders are clearly defined and adorned with
golden hair, but wet her eyes are, wet.
(ste furfi mi4 an un' f4etgt,
e&t auf fcie anfc' un ? jetgt:
($ ^angt a $etf arab ;
34 fttW i4
Un' enbUd^ mit ewein
SSarlangt fle: ,,
ttterb
lauf mit fd^nelle Srltf
51 ^lang', i lang i tidf,
SDod) f^recflt^ if tier
a Styraperet :
, macfyt Me grei^eit fret!"
afletn
a
@ riUjrt (14 nit nn gled.
>, ruf fee ja su nit,
@0 ebt fi4 nit a Sritt,
e nemmt fein @fof, fein
er !ann fe^n ta S5ilt>
Un ; foU nit wet'en ilb ;
SKsfoffottfetn, a@fof!
3)5 fc^reit e3 : r ,2Citter
34 4<*W' P4 tt
92
She looks at me and is silent; she raises her
hands and points wit^ Lhem : A chain hangs down
from her ; I am sure, I understand her meaning,
and finally, in tears, she asks : " Untie me ! "
My heart is burning, and I rush with rapid steps,
and seize the chain. Alas, I fall back, a ser-
pent, long and thick, is twined about it.
I cry, I call, I chide, but terrible is their sleep,
I hear but snoring. " Rise, oh, rise quickly, and let
there be light ! Come, make liberty free ! "
There is a silence. Only I alone exert myself,
but as soon could I wake stones. No one moves
from the spot ; whether I call them or not, not a
foot is raised, there is no end, no cessation (to
her suffering).
But who can see the picture and not grow wild ?
Let there be an end, an end ! I throw myself into
the danger, and I hear a voice : " Senseless fool ! "
and I awake from my sleep.
93
\
s
triUert ber tf anartf
3n freten SBalb aflein,
SBer fann fein (Sflmdje fit^Icn ?
2Ber fann fein greW
@g trtHert ber ^anari!
3n reic^flen ^olaj fcfyoen,
2Ber fann fein SBefjtag fii^ten?
2Cer fann fein djmerj ^
u bte 2Beituarfci}Hngcr
e^r, a i(fcl fnapper,
^abewejl bit,
^ wilbe 3aa,en,
SBenn ba^ ijarBteitt bem $eett>et'$
Un' 3lfle^ tt>a bu pfl erworbcn,
SBet me^r fein Jag fcetagen !
fdjttwrjer ^o([e*mann ttet fnmmen
Un' toet bie Corner mie bie 33Iumen
SSun Se^en^fetb varf^neiben ;
>u magfl wie fejl (t(^ gegen jietten,
X)er 2ot mug ^oren 3eit^ S3efel)fen
Un' ^ein'm un' ^einem meiben*
94
The Canary
THE canary warbles alone in the free forest :
Who can feel his joy, who can understand
his pleasure?
The canary warbles in the richest palace sweetly :
Who can feel his sorrow, who can understand
his pain?
To the Fortune-hunters
A LITTLE more, a little less, why do you
hunt in vain after shadows? Wherefore this
wild chase? All that will become the possession
of the grave, and all that you have gained will not
last a day.
The black reaper will come, and he will cut down
the flowers as well as the thorns on the field of life.
You may oppose yourself with all your main, Death
must listen to the commands of Time, and cannot
leave out any one.
95
'& arlafen
)ein 9ftut, bein $raft un ; bein
falter <S$aum fcegief t tie Sippen,
fummt Me
)em Se6en'g le^te
rufjl urn $tlf un ; Btei^fl fcetrogen,
fe^ji t>ie Snte ijun betn Sagen,
pjl bit ba ermorben ?
2Cu if beta IM ? D, armer 3ager !
S^ fummen falte 9Wite*trager,
21 Settler if gejiorkn!
21 S3i(fel metyr, a SBtjfel fnapper,
@^ geijt arum an alter
2Ba$ offent atte c^Io
Un' d&appt au 2lEg wn ;
Un' marft e^ in bte (lumme
berlangt a
fattt a triifceS SBetter,
@g welft in gelb bag twn
Der 23aum ijarltert bie flatter*
<rV flel)t ^o^I un^ naclet Balb,
)er $oea,el [Ingt in grofen SQalb
Un' wecft ju b' erjle
96
In the end, broken down, your courage, your
strength and your glory leave you, O terrible sedi-
tion ! A cold foam covers your lips, Death
comes to unravel the last enigma of life.
You call for help, and are deceived, you see
the end of your chase. What have you earned?
Where is your fortune ? O poor hunter ! The
cold pall-bearers come, a beggar has died !
A little more, a little less, an old robber goes
around who opens all locks ; he seizes everything,
and everything, and throws it into the silent waves
of the Stygian waters.
September Melodies
The ram's-horn man has blown his blast, there
falls a dismal weather ; the young grass withers in
the field ; the tree loses its leaves.
The earth soon becomes naked and bare,
there is an end to its glory. The bird sings hi the
large forest and calls to the first prayers of mourning.
7 97
fmgt fo umetig, fo fug,
'fegnen*Iieb, mijiome ;
a ftemm, ba3 tyut a
&etberKefd)ottte!
rauft^t ber SBart), e^ fcefjt ter 2Btnt>,
c^recf nemmt an bie Xraumer ;
fummt a Som^ctbtn agiint>
n j au
0, 50?enf^en ! Saunter in bent SBalb J
3^r fyort tie (Sturent^ fnatfen ?
3it iung su alt, su frat a
tet eu$ 3lUe atfen !
n
D, laltlfdj im' toinbig,
2)er @fof nn bent (Summer!
(5^ mellen bte 33lumen in
2)ie (Sd^oen^eiten fcfyttnnben ;
3n totlid^en (B^Iummer
3P 5ltte0 arwiegt mit a
>er (Sturem, er fc&Ieubert
)ie trucfene flatter,
3ntragt bas ttarjloroene 3tott ;
)er SBalb raufd^t a SCibut,
21 2BeiUn!e fpater
SSarjlummt aud| bag ^efligfle
98
He sings so sadly, so sweetly, no doubt a song
of parting, and that touches and tears your heart.
The woods rustle, the wind blows, terror seizes
the dreamers : the day of judgment has come now
on little trees and big trees.
O people ! Trees of the forest ! Do you hear
the howling of the storm ? Whether young or old,
late or soon, you will all be mowed down ! . . .
II
Oh, 't is cold and windy, there is an end of sum-
mer ! The flowers wither in the valley ; all beau-
ties disappear, and suddenly all is rocked into
slumber of death.
The storm hurls down the dry leaves, and dis-
perses the dead flowers. The forest rustles its last
confession, and a little later even the holiest song
will cease.
99
SSoegetad) flngen
Un ; wenten gum 3am fejer SBlfrf,
(Mie&te, nwfnefjti^r?
$3ie wett fort, an (Sredj ?
Un ; fagt mir : SBemt fummt i$r gurutf ?
S^ giefen p$ fcttter
SBe^melobien,
Sntfcr fcerfcmgt afa Drudf:
njeiffen nor Sltte,
mufen arflte^en f
ott weig ittt ^ummcn gururf!"
ber S3ore ^at oeft^affen
Unfer wunberf^oene SBeft,
Sr nit gefragt i>et
nac^ fein eignem
fcitt etgttem tylan
@r fyat lang genug
Un' (Er i)at cs gut
SCcnn Sr if gum 5D^enf$ gefummen,
3f eg n ^ 9^9<^gcn gTatt,
W Sr pt gunaufgerufen
@etn geflitgeltcn @cnat :
,,ort mt^ aug, ir meine botim!
F id^ a^cr gefcradjt,
foUt mir au (qe geBen,
2Bic ter 23^enW [off feitt gcma^t
100
The birds sing their song of passage and turn
their eyes towards the ocean. Beloved, where do
you fly? Pray, tell me how far away? and tell me
when will you return?
The woeful melodies are poured forth in bitter-
ness, and the painful answer is : " We all know only,
we must fly away, but God knows of coming back ! "
Creation of Man
WHEN the Lord created our wonderful world,
He asked nobody's advice, and did as He
pleased,
All after His own will, in accordance with His
own plans : He worked at it long, and He did it well.
When he was about to create man, things did not
go so well with Him, and he summoned His winged
Senate :
" Listen to me, you my mighty ones, I have called
you here that you may proffer me your advice how
man is to be made.
101
,,$elft mir, Winter, itym fcef^affen,
Sfcer fudt flcfy gut arum !
(r mu$ fein in imS gerat^en ;
,,)entt idj Iron' ifym far a errf$er,
Un' idj fd^enf i^m un ntein
(5r fott frei be^errfd^en fontten
2uft un ? Srb' un' au^ tern 3a
,$attett foH i?ar i^m ber
3n ter Suften, ar fein
@ott ber gtfdj in Baffer fallen,
Un' t>er filter Soeb in
<2>enat pt ftd^ berfc^rotfen;
SBenn er fott bic Suft fce
er no$ in tmme!
; fee aBen ott ge^entfert :
' t>em 9ftenfdj nac^ unfer
i$m fee^el, gieB i^m
fein Bluel ie& im nit
,,9letn, er tor !ein
Sr wet flie^en mtt tern
9ltt fcetreten fott bent
errfd&t auf biefer
/' fat ott ge-entfert,
SRif^pet, er if fein ;
ein 3lu^na^m^ n?itt i^ nta^en,
ein 2Ut$nam', ort lc ein!
102
" Help me, children, to create him, but take good
counsel. He must resemble us, and he must be
without faults and without blemish,
" For I shall crown him as a ruler, and I shall give
him of my flame : he shall freely rule over air, and
earth, and ocean.
" Before him shall fall the bird in the air, before
his might shall fall the fish in the water and the wild
lion in the chase."
The Senate became frightened : " If man, who
is nothing but foam and smoke, were to rule the air,
he would soon enter heaven."
And they answered God : " Make him in our
image ; give him reason, give him power, but give
him no wings !
" No, he shall have no wings, for he will fly with
his sword ! Let him not enter heaven who rules
upon that earth ! "
" You are right," God answered, " your decision
is good ; but one exception I shall make, but one ex-
ception ! Listen to me 1
103
,,)er $oet fofl fein geflitgelt,
(r fcefummt mein Jjocfjfhn
)ffnen nrifl t$ nteine tmmlen
gar bent Siftetjier un efang,
,,Un' i(^ wae^r ijun eudj a
@r [off greit fein 2:ag un'
3nt bte glitglen an^it^eften,
SCenn fein $e% 2ieb erwarjt"
3n bet SKtWcr
in meiten
Soegete afletn
Un* fudft (tc^ urn ijarumert,
Un 1 jlngt a Stebel fc^oen.
ein immel*fuf e timmc
2Bie retnjler tna,otb fltef t,
Un 1 toedft bte latte tetner,
tueit
@r toedTt We tote gelfen,
X)te fiumme S3erg arum,
Heiben tot tie Sote,
@tumme Het&en (lumm*
wemen, fitger (Singer,
>, flina.t teitt Better Xon?
2Ber tjort Wd& nn 1 tver fu^It
Un' wemen ge^jt bu an?
104
" Let the poet be winged ! He shall get my highest
rank ! I will open the heavens to the master of
songs.
"And I shall choose an angel among you who
shall be ready day and night to attach the wings to
him whenever his holy song will rise."
i
In the Wilderness
N a distant wilderness a bird stands alone and
looks about him sadly, and sings a beautiful song.
His heavenly-sweet voice flows like the purest
gold, and wakens the cold stones and the prairie
wide and deserted.
He wakens the dead rocks and the silent moun-
tains round about, but the dead remain dead,
and the silent remain silent.
For whom, sweet singer, do your clear tones re-
sound ? Who hears you, and who feels you ? And
whose concern are you !
105
)u rnagjl bein gcm^e <5eele
2lreintf)0tt ttt bein Sieb,
3n l^arten tetn, in falten
bertueclft bu nit
lang weft bu ba flngett,
un'
25un
Umfiijl if tt?a^ bu flei
)a^ fann nit l^elfen, nein !
5ltlein Mjl bu gefummen,
Un' n?el ailein
106
You may put your whole soul into your singing,
you will not awaken a heart in the hard, cold rock.
You will not sing there long, I feel it, I know it :
your heart will soon burst with loneliness and woe.
In vain is your endeavor, it will not help you, no ' f
Alone you have come, and alone you will pass away !
107
GLOSSARY
ABBREVIATIONS.
.. English. F. French. G. German. H. Hebrew.
Lat. Latin. /'. Polish. ^. Russian. .S/. Slavic.
besides. H.
afile, even. H.
antloffen, run away. G.
atttf<J)lafen, fallen asleep. G.
antfrfjtoiegen, grown silent G.
amoeren, lose. G.
^Ipreter, operative in sweat-
shop. E.
arcn, care; c art mtd& nit, I
do not care. G.
arumroafdjen, wash (the body).
G.
a, that. G.
ofa, such a. G.
ofo, so. G.
offad), much. H.
aufdjappen fid), be startled,
awaken. SI.
auSfpreitcn fid), be scattered.
G.
ajtinb, now. G.
ajUnbcr, now. G.
99aenfen, long for. G.
SBal^olcm, genius of dreams.
H.
G.
5?al:t)aguf, male person.
Safemalfc, princess. //.
belangen, belong. G.
benfdjen, bless. F.
bcfd^cibt, certain. G.
bef$onfen, presented with.
befprcit, covered. G.
33cffolmcn, cemetery. //.
Skjjofcm, cemetery. H.
bcttcifcn ft^i appear.
bibnc, poor. P.
btflrc, quick. R.
Ia8, breath. G.
93ocfer r anger. G,
SBore, Creator. //.
Soft, boss. E.
botcl, empty. H.
brcitli$ r comfortably.
53ruim f creatures.
33fomim, spices. H.
shame. H.
//.
(7.
, months. //.
, armies. //.
, dreams. //.
d^anfcncn, flatter. //.
109
, seize. SI.
fid), rush at. SI.
, kidnapper. 67.
(I)af en, cantor in synagogue. If.
Gfiatoer, comrade. /
(&att>eerim, comrades. H.
Gfieebet, elementary school. H.
gheelef, share. ^.
Sheen, grace. H.
djeenetobtg, graciously. H.
Gfieefdje!, zest. H.
(fiefd)i)en, number. H,
(Pet, sin. ^.
ibe, riddle. H.
_, life. ^.
(I)ir0ne, faults. H.
djlipen, sob. ^.
Gfiolettt, dream. ZT.
cf)0tett), destroyed. H.
Sljojjen, bridegroom. /K
(&ofjen=!ale, bridegroom and
bride. H.
djotfd), although, at least. SI
fitoperei, snoring. JR.
Sfjfobint, mercies. H.
e, ruin. H.
e, insolence. H.
(timleS, billows. ,57.
Gort^auS, courthouse. E.
S)ad)t ftd^, it seems. G.
boleb s ^lme, four cubits. H.
No one may approach an
excommunicated person
within four cubits.
barfen, be obliged to. G.
barr, withered. G.
bafiger, ber, that very. G.
barofe, by all means. H.
berfonnen, recognize. G.
berlangen a Stemm, get hold
of. G.
bertwn tnadjen, pay no atten-
tion. G.
)ienfttnoib, handmaid. G.
SDin, custom, law. H.
bingen, haggle, urge. G.
)ire, residence. H.
orem, South. H.
S)rtmntel, light sleep. R.
, Judge. E.
big, eternal. G.
<$d, end. G.
(ebe, witnesses. H.
eje, advice. H.
effd)er, perhaps. H.
ein|oren fi(^, listen attentively.
G.
einf jaMen ftd^, soak in. P.
eintrinlen fi(^, drench. G.
(lui, sixth month in the Jewish
calendar. H.
Gmte, truth. H.
emeSbtg, real. H.
emeffer, true. H.
ntfer, answer. G.
entfern, answer. G.
entpledfen, reveal. G.
, somewhat, somehow. G.
, approximation. H.
@rett);fd)abe, Friday evening.
H.
erge3, somewhere. G.
, lime. H.
, flute,
fanonberfingen fid), burst out
singing. G.
[ancmbertreten, walk along. G.
far, for. G.
ftetfjen fid), endeavor. G.
fleijen, flow abundantly. G.
Q-ord)tigfeit, awe. G.
no
t^ornton, foreman. E.
fort, indeed, I pray. G.
ftrefe, gluttony, G.
froeblidjbig, merrily. G.
aneeben, paradise. H.
gffnejett, yawn. G.
gantoenen, steal. If.
@aIen, murderer. H.
bolim, magnates. H.
gefinnen, find. G.
eljerei, marching. G.
elagerl, couch. G.
efdjanf, present. G.
gefdjmacf, sweet. G.
eftttb, family. G.
gettmlbetoen, shout. G.
gidf), quickly. G.
tngolb, pure gold. G.
gletd), as if. G.
ofc, exile. If.
ojj, downpouring. G.
raul, horror. G.
grett, prepared. G.
far, decree of fate. If.
'fegnenlieb, song of parting.
G.
fijfe, death. If.
@uf, body. If.
lift, taste. P.
g'toalbig, terribly. G.
mure, strength. If.
, seek eagerly. P.
balbe ftac*)t, midnight. G.
aletoefd)fe, brand. X.
^ar-bafccfftm, Olive Mount. H.
, killed bodies. H.
, abandoned. H.
, to-day. G.
, roam wildly. P.
, buzz. ^7.
3 t,both-and. R.
impct, incitement. Lot.
3nben, billows.
anuim, affliction. //.
itjtcr, now. G.
, chase. G.
3ttjle, Let there rise I If. Be-
ginning of prayer on the
eve of Atonement.
3am, ocean. //.
jcbercr, every. G.
jebtoebe, everything. G.
Seffome, orphan. H.
Seffurim, pain. //.
3io>, pride. //.
3om:habin, judgment day. H.
jungcrheit, in youth. G.
flabefd), prayer for the dead
(parents). H.
Rale, bride. //.
flaltfeit, coldness. G.
faltlitt}, cool. G.
tfanartf, canary. P.
$a, anger. //.
aul, bullet. G.
Jfbufdje, religious fervor. H.
ffeetoer, grave. II.
Fciflcn fid), roll. G.
fcnntig, evidently. G.
fcffccbcr, in succession. If.
ficln, tickle. G.
d)cr f cup of benedic-
tion. //. * G.
wonc, benediction of
the moon. //.
ftntat, almost. //.
tfine, dirge on the Day of
the Destruction of the
Temple. //.
Happen, strike. G.
in
Ilfiren, think. G.
flecfett, suffice. G.
fleibett fid), gather. G.
JHef enter, instruments of music.
If.
JHeSmotim, musicians. H.
$littQeret, ringing. G.
flottierft, for example. H.
JHole, curse. H.
htacfen, roar. G.
fnoW, little. G.
fnetfdfjen, wrinkle. G.
ftnoetel, wick. G.
$0(f), excitement. G.
, strength. H.
l, voice. H.
, voices. H.
$or&en, victim. H.
Jforeto, relative. H.
fofrfjer, ritually pure. H.
80$, cup. H.
floffe, scythe. R.
$otoeb r honor. H.
Jhrci&e, crow. G.
$rutoim, cherubim. If.
Jhtcf, glance. G.
lurfen, look. G.
fufd&ett, kiss. G.
$toeet, flower. SI.
$toortm, graves. H.
Saremett, be in uproar. G.
Iafrf)ifd)en f stroke gently. R.
lafurtt, azure. R.
leben, near. G.
lejenen, read. F.
lefotoeb, in honor of. H.
Setoone, moon. H.
Setooncn, Lebanon. H.
Soeb, lion. G.
, army. If.
aRoie=S5'recfd)t f Genesis. H.
3Rafo($, angel. H.
Ramjet, bastard. H.
9Jlarrf) f marrow. G.
SJiafel, star, luck. H.
9ftafole, stars, destinies. H.
SJiajcetoe, tombstone. H.
mecfjajebtg, delightfully. H.
50lC(^ile r forgiveness. H.
SO'lcbinc, realm. H.
9Jlccffitn f dead bodies. H.
5Rceh)in r connoisseur. H.
9Utefiume f consternation, ff.
9JJein, opinion. G.
9Keitter r miner. E.
tnefabefd) fcin, consecrate. H.
2Kcnf^enfd)fid^ter, butcher of
men. G. & If.
3Kertbe, sedition. H.
mefd^unc, wonderfully. H.
2ttefe, corpse. H.
tneften, measure. G.
f wilderness, ff.
c war. H.
, judgment. H.
3Jttta$, East. H.
tntStotnc, no doubt. H.
miSttmbe fetn fid), confess. H.
2JHte=trfiger, pall-bearer. H.
&G.
, chandelier. ^.
, brain. ^.
, moss. R.
tnojett, whine.
HJlorc, fear, terror, ff.
tttorebtg, terribly, ff.
9Jlottc, Mount Moriah. ff.
5fttuf, growl. P.
2ttum r blemish. ^1
muntern, vivify. G.
112
9lad)ananb, in succession. G.
nafynt, near. G.
nfiljnter, nearer. G.
9latoenab, wanderer. H.
9led)0tne, consolation. H.
SRefefd), creature. H.
9lefome, revenge. H.
9letmn, see berlangen.
Stefdjome, soul. H.
9leffie, wandering. H.
9ltgen, melody. H.
nifd&fofdX never mind. G.
& If.?
9U30(f)en f glory. H.
ftore, hole. R.
nu, well ! R.
nufen, egg on. R.
O (ba), this very thing. SI.
Cfelad), birdies. H.
oi, woe! R.
on (bort), over yonder. SL
Drcl=tome, uncircumcised. H.
Oten f coffin. /f.
Orenfobefd), holy ark. H.
ot Ot, now now. R.
ot tou nit IDU, now and then.
, fortunes. /T.
, herd. R.
$aftud), shepherd. /?.
^aftuf(^fe r shepherdess. R.
$|}ejfer f sleeper.
^cnnilc, little penny. E.
Jrilbern, cause an uproar. G.
pieften, fondle. />.
, suddenly. G.
, riot. R.
53onim, face. H.
^raje, work. P.
prajcwcn, toil. P.
f r decision, sentence. /^.
Quctten, feel pleased. G.
continually. //.
ranglcn, wrestle. G.
Kebe, teacher. //.
9icf ue, convalescence ; ju ,
God bless you I //.
roien fid^ t swarm. A'.
DiofcQe, evil man. //.
Sncgcr, clock. G.
Samb, sand. G.
, hush t A'.
, sabbath, tf.
, proper. //.
djameS, beadle. //.
d)ap r shop. E.
e, neighbor. //.
f Godhead. //".
ticS, delay. If.
, curser. G.
@(^ir, limit. If.
cfyire, hymns. If.
(Sd)mccf, fragrance. G.
f^mcden, smell. G.
Sd)meid)cl, smile. C7.
fd^mcid^Ien, smile. (7.
, twinkle. (7.
hour. /T.
6d)ofcr, ram's-horn. H.
fd)od Icn, shake. C7.
t^olem, peace. //.
, stir. A*.
wares. .
Sharon. If.
Sc^rcdcnife, terror. (7.
St^ul, synagogue. G.
fd)um, fcin , not at all. H.
Sd)ttHd)ap, sweat-shop. G.
&E.
djroorim, third blast of the
ram's horn.
fee, they. G.
fehten, are. G.
feier, very. G.
(Sent, cent. E.
fetjen, cut. G.
<5fire, forty-nine days after
second day of Passover,
during which no festivities
may take place. H.
ilfulitn, disgrace. H.
ffrudjen, shudder. P.
(SlicfyeS, prayer preceding the
morning prayer on the
Sunday preceding the New
Year. H.
, pOSt. P.
)erte, saleswoman. H.
(Sofertore, Scroll of the Law. H.
@rore, oppressors. H.
>fafone, danger. H,
fjapJJCtt, gasp. P.
>feed()el, reason. H.
fine, hatred. H.
jenf, branch. P.
(Sftmdje, joy. H.
job, secret. H.
fof, end. H.
(Sfolotoet, nightingale. H.
<5tabun, onionstalk. SI.
ftom, any way. H.
ftattbig, all the time. G.
fteflen fid), take one's part. G.
<5tefd)fe, bypath. R.
<5trit, street. E.
ftuppett fid), press forward. G.
tttfj, nonsense. H.
fllbig, boiling. G.
.Ufa, sob. G.
fuppen, sip. G.
abode. H.
a<J)rtrf)hn r shrouds. H.
ine, discussion. H.
tafe, indeed. R
, taste. ^.
, father. P.
tftug, is good for. G.
5ld)ine, prayer. ^".
teetef, exactly. H.
etd), river. G.
5fila=l)abered), prayer of pas-
sage. H.
, prayer. H.
leont, io2d Psalm, used
as a prayer in sickness.
H.
Zftffe, prison, jy.
X^Otn, abyss. H.
Xiefenifc, depth. C.
Steffeit, depth. G.
%l\\t f first blast of the ram's-
horn. H.
5ttue r delay. H.
tome, impure. H.
tor, is allowed. G.
Xorc, Law. ^.
ttat^ten, think. G.
Xrafir, tear. C.
tretten, trill. G.
trefd^tf^en, crack. R.
5rett)oge, alarm. R.
, second blast of the
ram's-horn. H.
, corpse. R.
tuden, submerge. G.
Slujtyeret, tramping. G.
tt)ile f (ritual) bath. If.
Uf = ouf .
lltne, nation. H.
umetig, sad. G.
Umtufi, unrest, pendulum. G.
Utnfuft, in vain. G.
imteriimfen, dive under. G.
114
SBar, before. G.
tmrbetten, invite. G.
toarbli^en, flash. G.
Dard)6fd)ed)t, wretched. H.
Darflieben, fly away. G.
twrglitoert, stark.
toariojfetnt, orphaned. H.
tmrtlemmt, oppressed. G.
twtfodjt, absorbed. G.
fcarmattert, exhausted. G.
toarmogen, possess. G.
barmoren, starve, X.
twrtnoften fid), threatened. G.
tmrnummen, busy. G.
tmrnutjen, use up. G.
toarfdjolten, cursed. G.
t>arfd)retben f secure. G.
toarfdja$t, weakened. G.
Darfpiljt, clearly outlined. G.
tmrtijdtt, occupied. G.
tmrtrad)t, lost in thoughts. G.
toarumert, saddened. G.
tmrtoenben, use up. G.
tmrtmegen, rock to sleep. G.
t, neglected. G.
2Bcilin!c f little while. G.
toetfeen, know. G.
toemen, to whom. G.
toct'cn, become, will. G.
i, confession. H.
mint fid) tnir, I want. G.
rotiMifl, little. G\
iliHjjel, whistle. ..
njojcn, howl. A',
roolltcn, would. G.
, well-doing. G.
, workshop. E.
beckoning. G.
Sabifim, just. H.
rr, anguish. //.
= G. bod). R.
ftcitentoeig, at times. G.
jitterbig, trembling. G.
3ojfen, North. H.
3ore, troubles. H.
ju = G. jcr.
ju, whether. P.
judjtig, dean. G.
jugliibt, burning. G.
jutlcmmt, oppressed. G.
juflemmterb? it, with oppressed
heart G.
juflingen fic^, resound. G.
junaufrufen, call together. G.
3urc, face. H.
jufprtngen ftc^, burst,
jutrogen, scatter. G.
jutDe^tdgt, full of pain. G.
jutoorfcn, scattered. G.
Qtoit, bloom. R.
TH,S BOOK ,S PR,NTED DURING SEPTEMBER
1898 BY THE UNIVERSITY PRESS CAM-
BRIDGE MASSACHUSETTS
PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY
PJ Rosenfeld, Morris
5129 Songs from the ghetto
R6A42
1898
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