Written by: David Edelstadt

Arbeter-froyen, laydnde froyen!
Froyen vos shmakhtn in hoyz un fabrik,
Vos shteyt ir fun vaytn, vos helft ir nit boyen
Dem templ fun frayhayt, fun mentshlekhn glik?

Helft undz trogn dem baner dem roytn,
Forvets, durkh shturem, durkh fintstere nekht!
Helft undz varhayt un likht tsu farshpreytn,
Tsvishn umvisnde, elnte knekht!

Gedenkt ir di nemen, di heylike nemen:
Provskaya, Helfman, Ginzburg un nokh?
Toyznte froyen vos flegn zikh shemen
Tsu trogn gehorkhzam dem shklafndem yokh.

Helft undz di velt fun ir shmutz derheybn!
Ales opfern, vos undz iz lib;
Kemfn tsuzamen, vi mekhtike leybn
Far frayhayt, far glaykhhayt, far undzer printsip!

Nit eyn mol hobn shoyn nobele froyen,
Gemakht tsitern henker un tron,
Zey hobn getsaygt, az men ken zey fartroyen
In biterstn shturem di heylike fon.

Working women, suffering women!
Women who are languishing at home and in the factory,
Why do you stand at a distance, why don’t you help?
To build the temple of freedom, of humane happiness

Help us to carry the red banner,
Forward, through storm, through dark nights!
Help us to spread truth and light,
Amongst ignorant, lonely slaves!

Do you remember the names, the holy names:
Provskaya, Helfman, Ginzburg and more?
Thousands of women who used to be ashamed
To compliantly carry the yoke of enslavement.

Help us to lift the world out of her filth!
To sacrifice all that we love;
To fight together, like mighty lions,
For freedom, for equality, for our principles!

Not once have noble women already
Caused hangmen and thrones to tremble,
They have shown that they can be entrusted,
In the bitterest storm, with the holy flag.

Written by: Nokhem Sternheim

Hobn mir a nigndl,
In nakhes un in freydn
Zingen mir es, zingen mir es,
Klingt es azoy sheyn!
Dos hot nokh gezungen
Di bobe mitn zeydn,
Ven zey zaynen kinder nokh geven.

Oy,oy,oy, ot azoy zhe
Vi der nign klingt atsinder,
Aza freylekhs, aza freylekhs
Zingt zhe, kinder,
Ot azoy zhe
Vi der nign klingt atsinder,
Aza freylekhs lomir ale geyn.

Hobn mir a nigndl,
Zingen mir tsuzamen
Zingen mir es, zingen mir es,
Klingt es azoy sheyn!
Dos hot nokh gezungen
Der tate mit der mamen,
Ven zey zaynen kinder nokh geven.

Oy,oy,oy, ot azoy zhe…

Hobn mir a nigndl,
In mazl un in brokhe
Zingen mir es, zingen mir es,
Klingt es azoy sheyn!
Dos hot nokh gezungen
Di gantse mishpokhe,
Ven zey zaynen kinder nokh geven.

Oy,oy,oy, ot azoy zhe…

We have a little tune,
With pleasure and with joy
We sing it, we sing it,
It sounds so lovely!
It was already sung by
Our grandma and grandpa
When they were still children.

Oh, oh, oh, this is how
The tune sounds,
Such a pleasure, such a joy,
Sing it, children,
Just like this
Is how the tune sounds,
Such pleasure let us always enjoy!

We have a little tune,
We sing it together
We sing it, we sing it,
It sounds so lovely!
It was already sung by
Our father and our mother
When they were still children.

Oh, oh, oh, this is how…

We have a little tune,
With good fortune and with blessing
We sing it, we sing it,
It sounds so lovely!
It was already sung by
The whole family
When they were still children.

Oh, oh, oh, this is how….

Written by: Mikhail Tanich, Moyshe Sakhar, Yuri Saulsky

Ligt a kats shvarts vi koyl oyfn dakh
Sonim hot ot di kats zeyer a sakh.
Do nisht lig, do nisht zits, do nisht gey!
Vayl a shvartse kats tsu zayn iz okh un vey.

Yeder zogt s’iz a tsore,
Ven a shvartse kats geyt iber dir dem veg.
Nor s’iz laykht tsu farshteyn:
Di kapore iz di shvartse kats aleyn.

Do zi geyt, shtil un sha, bay a ployt,
S’falt a shteyn un zi zet shoyn dem toyt.
Do nisht lig, do nisht zits, do nisht gey!
Vayl a shvartse kats tsu zayn iz okh un vey.

Yeder zogt s’iz a tsore,
Ven a shvartse kats geyt iber dir dem veg
Nor s’iz laykht tsu farshteyn:
Di kapore iz di shvartse kats aleyn

Ligt di kats shvarts vi koyl oyfn dakh,
Fun der fri biz bay nakht, mid un shvakh.
Un zi fregt zikh farvos un farven,
Iz aza min umglik davke ir geshen?

Yeder zogt s’iz a tsore,
Ven a shvartse kats geyt iber dir dem veg
Nor s’iz laykht tsu farshteyn:
Di kapore iz di shvartse kats aleyn

Lies a cat black as coal on the roof
Enemies has this cat, quite a few
Here don’t lie, here don’t sit, here don’t go!
For to be a black cat is always full of woe.

People say it’s a curse
When a black cat walks across your path.
But it’s easy to understand:
That the scapegoat is the black cat herself.

Here she creeps, slow and soft, past a fence.
A stone is thrown and she stares death in the face.
Here don’t lie, here don’t sit, here don’t go!
For to be a black cat is always full of woe.

People say it’s a curse
When a black cat walks across your path.
But it’s easy to understand:
That the scapegoat is the black cat herself.

Lies that cat, black as coal, on the roof,
From morning until night, worn out and weak.
And she asks herself: why and wherefore
Has such misfortune fallen upon none other than her?

People say it’s a curse
When a black cat walks across your path
But it’s easy to understand:
That the scapegoat is the black cat herself

Traditional Jamaican Folk Song
Yiddish Translation by: Karen Feldman

Day oh  – Day oh !
Morgn kumt, ikh vil geyen aheym

Arbet bai nakht, mit vodke ‘stam’
Morgn kumt, ikh vil geyen aheym

Zamlen bananen biz morgn kumt
Morgn kumt, ikh vil geyen aheym

Zeks funt, zibn funt, akht funt hengl,
Morgn kumt, ikh vil geyen aheym

Kum Mister Balebos – tzayl di bananen
Morgn kumt, ikh vil geyen aheym

Day-oh, day-oh !
Daylight come and me wan’ go home.

Work all night on a drink of rum,
Daylight come and me wan’ go home.

Stack banana till the mornin’ come,
Daylight come and me wan’ go home.

Lift six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunches,
Daylight come and me wan’ go home.

Come, Mister Tally Man, tally me banana,
Daylight come and me wan’ go home.

Written by: Isadore Lillian (lyrics), and Abe Ellstein (music)

Klingen vet mir shtendik in di oyern
Az du host mir gezogt az du libst mikh nit,
Un dokh hof ikh, ikh hob dikh nit farloyrn,
Dermonen dikh vel ikh a yeder minut.
Ikh veys du host an andere getrofn,
Un du meynst az yener iz dayn glik,
Ikh hob dikh emes lib un ikh vel hofn
Az du vest tsu mir kumen tsurik.
Her neshome mayn,
Du zolst visn zayn –

Ikh vel vartn oyf dir, meg es nemen vi lang.
Ikh vel vartn oyf dir, vayl du bist mayn farlang.
Ikh vel vartn oyf dir, yedn tog yede sho,
Meg es doyrn fil yorn,
Meg ikh vern alt un gro,
Oy lubenyu!
Ikh vel vartn oyf dir, biz di letste minut,
Vayl keyn tsveyte dayn plats farnemen vet nit.
Host geroybt mayn harts, mayn glik,
Un du must es brengen tsurik,
Vayl ikh lib nor dikh,
Vel ikh vartn oyf dir!

Ringing in my ears, I will always hear
That you told me that you don’t love me,
And I still hope that I haven’t lost you,
I will remember you every moment.
I know that you have met another,
And you think that she is your happiness,
But I truly love you and I will keep hoping
That you will come back to me.
Hear what I say, my soul,
You should know that –

I will wait for you, for as long as it takes,
I will wait for you, because you are the one.
I will wait for you, every day, every hour,
Even if it takes many years,
Even if I become old and grey,
Oh my beloved!
I will wait for you, until the last moment,
Because another will not take your place.
You have robbed my heart of happiness,
And you must bring it back to me,
Because I love only you,
I will wait for you!

Written by: Abe Ellstein

Mame, meg ikh geyn shpatsirn?
Yo, mayn libe tokhter!
Mame, meg ikh romantsirn?
Yo, mayn libe tokhter!
Tomer zogt er mir, mame mayne,
Er iz in mir a farkokhter,
Mame, vos zol zayn mayn entfer?
Yo, mayn libe tokhter!

Er zogt az er iz farlibt in mir
Un ikh hob im lib gor on a shiyer,
Nu mamenyu, gib an entfer mir!
Mazl-tov dir, tayere tokhter!

Mame, mamenyu mayne
Ikh fir tsu der khupe di tokhter mayne!
Mazl-tov dir, mame!
Mazl-tov dir, tokhter!

Mother, may I go out dancing?
Yes, my darling daughter
Mother, may I try romancing?
Yes, my darling daughter
If he tells me, mother mine,
That he is crazy about me?
Mother, what should be my answer?
Yes, my darling daughter!

He says that he’s in love with me
And I love him endlessly,
Well – mama dear – what should be my answer?
Congratulations to you, darling daughter!

Mama, dearest mama of mine,
I’m walking my daughter to the wedding canopy
Congratulations to you Mama!
Congratulations to you Daughter!

Written by: Fred Ebb (original English lyrics), and John Kander (music)
Yiddish Translation by: Floris Kalman and Galit Klas

Gey zog on der velt
Bald for ikh avek
Kh’vil azoy zayn a teyl fun dir
New York New York

Mit shpilkes in di fis
Es tsit mikh tsu geyn
In same mitn fun der shtot
New York New York

Ikh vil oyfshteyn in a shtot
Vos iz tomid vakh
Un ze a knaker bin ikh
A makher bin ikh

Di tsures fun shtetl
Fargeyen gor shnel
Kh’vil zikh araynvarfn mit freyd
In mayn New York

Oyb es gelingt mir dort
Gelingt mir iberal
Gloyb ikh in dir
New York, New York

Ikh vil oyfshteyn in a shtot
Vos iz tomid vakh
Un ze a knaker bin ikh
A makher bin ikh
A gantser shishke
Dos eybershte fun shtaysl

Di tsures fun shtetl
Fargeyen gor shnel
Kh’vil onheybn oyf s’nay
In dir New York

Oyb es gelingt mir dort
Gelingt mir iberal
Shtrek oys dayn hant
New York New York!

Go tell the whole world
Soon I’ll be travelling,
I so want to be a part of you
New York, New York

With pins in my feet
I’m drawn to go
To the very middle of the city
New York, New York

I want to wake up in a city
That’s always awake
And look! I’m a hot shot!
I’m a big wheel!

The worries from my little town
Are quickly disappearing
I want to throw myself joyfully
Into my New York

If I’m a success there
I’m a success everywhere
I believe in you
New York, New York

I want to wake up in a city
That’s always awake
And whoa! I’m a hot shot!
I’m a big wheel!
A head honcho
I’m the pestle from the mortar!

My little town problems
Are quickly fading,
I want to start anew
In you, New York

If I’m a success there
I’m a success everywhere
Stretch out your hand,
New York New York

Written by: Leyb Rozental (lyrics), and Misha Veksler (music)

Nu koyft zhe papirosn,
Nu koyft zhe sakharin,
Gevorn iz haynt skhoyre bilik vert.
A lebn far a groshn,
A prute – a fardinst –
Fun geto-hendler hot ikh dort gehert.

Kh’heys Yisrolik
Kh’bin dos kind fun geto
Kh’heys Yisrolik
A hefkerdiker yung
Khotsh farblibn gole-neto
Derlang ikh alts nokh a svitshe un a zung!

A mantl on a kragn,
Takhtoynim fun a zak,
Kaloshn hob ikh – s’feln nor di shikh.
Un ver es vet nor vagn
Tsu lakhn, oy, a sakh –
Dem vel ikh nokh vayzn ver bin ikh!

Nit meynt mikh hot geborn
Di hefkerdike gas –
Bay tate-mame oykh geven a kind.
Kh’hob beyde ongevorn,
Nit meynt es iz a shpas,
Kh’bin geblibn vi in feld der vint.

Kh’heys Yisrolik,
Nor ven keyner zet nit
Vish ikh shtil zikh
Fun oyg arop a trer.
Nor fun mayn troyer –
Beser az men redt nit,
Tsu vos dermonen
Un makhn s’harts zikh shver?

Kh’heys Yisrolik
Kh’bin dos kind fun geto
Kh’heys Yisrolik
A hefkerdiker yung
Khotsh farblibn gole-neto
Derlang ikh alts nokh a svitshe un a zung!

Hey, come buy cigarettes,
Come buy some saccharin,
Stuff today is really cheap.
A life for a penny,
A cent is called an earning,
I’m sure you’ve heard about this ghetto trader…

My name’s Yisrolik,
I’m the kid from the ghetto;
I’m called Yisrolik,
A reckless boy.
Although I’ve been left with absolutely nothing,
I still hand out a whistle and a song!

A coat without a collar,
Trousers made from a sack,
I have overshoes – just the shoes are missing.
And whosoever even dares
To make fun of me, to laugh –
I’ll show him what sort of a person I am!

Don’t think I was givenbirth to
By the rough, lawless street –
A mother and a father called me their child.
I’ve lost them both,
Don’t think that that’s a joke,
I’ve been left like the wind in a field.

I’m called Yisrolik,
But when no-one sees
I quietly wipe
A tear away from my eye.
But about my sadness
It’s better not to talk,
Why remind myself
And make my heart heavy?

My name’s Yisrolik,
I’m the kid from the ghetto;
I’m called Yisrolik,
A reckless boy.
Although I’ve been left with absolutely nothing,
I still hand out a whistle and a song!

Written by: Kasriel Broydo

Di zelbe gasn un tramvayen
Numern elf un fir.
Di zelbe yinglekh loyfn, shrayen:
“A tsaytung koyft zhe, koyft bay mir!”
Der zelber himl nor nit eynlekh
Der mentsh vos unter im,
Es shaynt di zun alts nit farshtendlekh,
Ikh her, es fregt in mir a shtim:

Tsi darf es azoy zayn?
Tsi muz es azoy zayn?
Az far eynem iz glik bashert
Un far dem tsveytn iz alts farvert.
Ver hot es ayngeshtelt
Azoy zol zayn di velt?
Es fregt, un vekt dos harts mayns:
Tsi darf azoy zayn?
Darf azoy zayn?

Far zey di skvern un bulvarn,
Far mir aza kvartal.
Far vos zol yener mikh alts narn?
Var vos far mir a trern-kval?
Far vos der oyfshrift oyfn bretl:
“Farvert iz vayter geyn”?
Far vos far zey mayn heym, mayn betl –
Un mayn geleger hart vi shteyn?

Tsi darf …

The same streets and trams,
Numbers Eleven and Four,
The same boys running, shouting:
“Buy a newspaper, buy it from me!”
The same sky,
But not the same is the person under it
The sun still keeps shining, incomprehensibly,
I hear a voice asking, inside of me:

Should it be like this?
Must it be like this?
That for one person, happiness is destined
And for the other, all is prohibited?
Who set it up
That the world should be like this?
My heart awakens to ask:
Should it be like this?
Must it be like this?

For them squares and boulevards,
For me a neighbourhood like this.
Why should another always fool me?
Why for me endless tears?
Why the sign on the plank:
“Forbidden To Walk Further”?
Why for them my home, my bed –
And my resting-place as hard as stone?

Should it…

Written by: Yisroel Shtern (lyrics), and Tomi Kalinski (music)

Lozn di felder
Zikh gletn fun zumer
Un grinen im unter di hent

Baginen, bageyt
Shayn ikh oyf in feld
Un grin mit.

Tsvishn tog un dorf, shnaydt zikh arayn
Der frisher glants funem ayzn-tants
Baym poyer in hant.

Sharf klingt durkh mir
Der rayfer tsapl
Fun gezunter tvu’e.

Nokh unter der kose
Shmekn di zangen
Un faln baleykhtn:
Mir hobn gelebt!

Oyf di ibergeblibene
Hart-zikhere vortslen
Marshir ikh, marshir ikh,
Unter di heyse
Bafeln fun di felder

Un horkh mikh gut tsu
Tsum takt fun di trit:
“Haynt – gelebt,
Haynt – gelebt,
Un morgn iz nokh
Oykhet zumer…”

The fields let themselves
Be caressed by the summer
And they turn green under its hand.

At dawn, renewed
I too rise like the sun in the field
And green like them.

In between day and village,
The fresh gloss of iron slices,
Dancing in the hand of the peasant.

The ripe rippling
Of healthy harvest grain
Keenly resounds through me

While still under the scythe
The stalks release their perfume
And fall, illuminated:
“We have lived!”

Over the remaining left-over
Solid-sure roots
I march, I march,
Under the hot
Commands of the fields

And I hearken closely
To the beat of my steps:
“Today – I lived,
Today – I lived,
And tomorrow is
Also summer…”

Written by: Itsik Fefer (lyrics), and Chava Alberstein (music)

Dort vi grozn zaynen nase,
Shteyt a krenitse fartrakht.
Kumen meydlekh tsiyen vaser
Mit di emer ale nakht.
Unter zun, vu vayse bern,
Vaksn teg in groysn sod,
Un in vaytkeyt fun di shtern
Tantsn yatn in a rod.

Fun di stepes vintn blozn
Un a fayerl derbrent,
Geyen meydlekh oyf di grozn
Mit di emer in di hent.
Vert levone blas un blaser,
Ergets poykt men in der nakht,
Dort, vi grozn zaynen nase
Shteyt a krenitse fartrakht

Out there where grasses are wet,
Stands a well lost in thought.
Girls come to draw water
With their buckets, every night.
Under the sun, like white bears,
Grow days in a great orchard,
And under the distant stars
Dance young men in a circle.

From the steppes winds are blowing
And a small fire is burning.
Girls are walking on the grasses
With buckets in their hands.
The moon becomes pale and paler,
Somewhere there’s drumming in the night.
There, where grasses are wet,
Stands a well lost in thought.

Written by: Amanda Miryem-Khaye Seigel

Ongekumen iz zi mit a shtiln gang
Ongetsundn hot zikh in mir, a fink fun gezang
Geflakert hot dos harts mayns fun ir oygn-blits
Zet men nit mayn benkshaft?
Filt men nit di hits?

Nor ikh makh zikh kile-yode
Azoy iz dokh di mode
Dos shemen zikh un shvaygn
Me vet zey nit ibertsaygn
S’iz a benkshaft on a mitl
A seyfer on a titl
A lid nokh nit dershribn
A veytik geblibn

Di bahaltene libe vos zi tut in mir brenen
Di bahaltene libe vos a mentsh kon derkenen
Zi kumt on a sibe
Nor ver zhe darf a sibe?
Az zi tut oyf mir a kuk,
Tut dos harts a derkvik…
Un ot iz di sibe

Nokhgegangen iz zi nokh mir vi a troym
Zikh oyfgekhapt, zi blaybt nokh,
Un es gleybt zikh mir koym
Beser nit tsu trakhtn in dem tif arayn
Un fun der gantser mayse vet shoyn gornit zayn
Un geyen gey ikh vayter mit shtarke, feste trit
Nor es dakht zikh az ikh her nokh fun hintn ire trit
Vi vayt ikh zol nit fli’en
Vi ikh zol zikh nit bami’en
Farloyft zi ale veygn
Un kumt mir antkeygn

Di bahaltene libe
Vos zi tut zikh tsu mir tsi’en
Di bahaltene libe
Vos zi lozt mikh nisht ru’en
Zi kumt umfarbetn
Un vet zikh fun mir nit optretn
Biz ikh zog zi shoyn,“kum”
In ikh nem zi arum
Di eygene libe

Ikh veys az dos iz oser
Nu, bin ikh a farbrekher
Un az men est shoyn khazer
Shrayt azh fun di dekher
Ikh ken zikh gornit baytn
Nit far got un nit far laytn
Un ikh shem zikh nit afile
Bet bay keynem nit mekhile

Di sibe iz libe
Vos zi tut in yeydn mentshn brenen
Di sibe iz libe
Vos yeder mentsh kon derkenen
Di sibe iz libe
S’iz prost un poshet libe
Vayl az ikh tu oyf ir a kuk,
Git dos harts a derkvik…
Un ot iz di sibe

She came in quietly
And a spark of song ignited within me
My heart blazed from the lightning of her eyes
Don’t they see my longing?
Don’t they feel this heat?

But I play the fool
That’s the fashion after all
The shame and the silence
They won’t be convinced
It’s a longing without a means
A book without a title
A song not yet completed
An ache that remains

Hidden love burns in me
Hidden love that a person can recognize
She comes without a reason
But who needs a reason?
When she glances at me,
My heart thrills…
And that is the reason

She followed me like a dream
I woke, she was still here, and I could scarcely believe it
It’s better not to think too deeply about this
In the end nothing will come of it
And so I keep on going
With strong, determined steps
But it seems I still hear
Her footsteps behind me
However far I fly, howeverhard I try
She stands in my way
She faces me

Hidden love
She draws herself to me
Hidden love
She gives me no rest
She arrives uninvited
And won’t leave my side
Until I invite her in
And embrace her
This very love

I know it’s forbidden
So call me a criminal
And if you’re going to break the rules
Shout it from the rooftops
I can’t change who I am
Not for G-d, not for anyone
And I am not even ashamed
I’m not asking for anyone’s forgiveness

The reason is love
That burns in every person
The reason is love
That every person can recognize
The reason is love
Simply love
Because when I look at her,
My heart thrills…
And that is the reason

Written by: Mark Warshawsky

Hekher! Beser!
Di rod, di rod makht greser!
Groys hot mikh got gemakht,
Glik hot er mir gebrakht,
Hulyet, kinder, a gantse nakht!
Di mizinke oysgegebn!

Shtarker! Freylekh!
Du di malke, ikh der meylekh!
Oy, oy, ikh aleyn
Hob mit mayne oygn gezen
Vi got hot mikh matsliekh geven –
Di mizinke oysgegebn!

Itsik! Shpitsik!
Vos shvaygstu mit dem shmitsik?
Oyf di klezmer tu a geshrey:
Tsi shpiln zey, tsi shlofn zey?
Rayst ti strunes ale oyf tsvey! –
Di mizinke oysgegebn!

Ayzik! Mazik!
Di bobe geyt a kozik,
Keyn eyne-hore, zet nor, zet,
Vi zi tupet, vi zit ret,
Oy a simkhe, oy, a freyd!
Di mizinke oysgegebn!

Motl! Shimen!
Di oreme layt zenen gekimen,
Shtelt far zey dem shenstn tish,
Tayere vaynen, tayere fish,
Oy, mayn tokhter, gib mir a kish –
Di mizinke oysgegebn!

Higher! Better!
Make the circle bigger!
Great has G-d made me,
Happiness has he brought me,
Revel, children, the whole night long!
My youngest daughter’s married off!

Stronger! Joyful!
You are the queen, I am the king!
Oh, oh, I alone
Have seen with my own eyes
How G-d has made me successful –
My youngest daughter’s married off!

Itsik! Sharp-witted one!
Why are you silent with your bow?
Scream at the musicians:
Are they playing or are they sleeping?
Tear all the strings in two!
My youngest daughter’s married off!

Isaac! Mischief-maker!
Grandma’s dancing a Cossack dance,
May no evil eye hurt her, see, just see,
How she’s stamping, how she’s stepping,
Oh, what a party, oh, what joy!
My youngest daughter’s married off!

Mottel! Simon!
The poor folk have arrived,
Set up the most beautiful table for them,
Expensive wine, expensive fish,
Oh, my daughter, give me a kiss –
My youngest daughter’s married off!

Written by: Abe Ellstein

A bisl zun, a bisl regn,
A ruik ort dem kop tsu leygn,
Abi gezunt, ken men gliklekh zayn.
A shukh, a zok,
A kleyd on lates,
In keshene a dray, fir zlotes,
Abi gezunt, ken men gliklekh zayn.

Di luft iz fray far yedn glaykh,
Di zun zi shaynt far yedn eynem, orem oder raykh…

A bisl freyd, a bisl lakhn,
A mol mit fraynt a shnepsl makhn,
Abi gezunt, ken men gliklekh zayn.

Eyner zukht ashires,
Eyner zukht gevires,
Eyner zukht di gantse velt.
Eyner meynt dos gantse glik
Hengt nor op in gelt.
Lozn ale zukhn,
Lozn ale krikhn,
Nor ikh zog bay mir:
Ikh darf dos oyf kapores
Vayl dos glik shteyt bay mayn tir!

A bisl zun…

A bit of sun, a bit of rain,
A quiet place to lay your head,
So long as you’re healthy, you can be happy.
A shoe, a sock,
A dress without patches,
Three or four coins in your pocket,
So long as you’re healthy, you can be happy.

The air is free for everyone equally,
The sun shines upon every person, poor or rich…

A bit of joy, a bit of laughter,
Having a little schnapps with friends,
So long as you’re healthy, you can be happy.

One person seeks wealth,
One seeks affluence,
Another wants the whole world.
One thinks all happiness
Depends on money.
Let them all seek,
Let them all crawl,
But I think to myself:
It’s all worthless to me
Because happiness is standing at my door!

A bit of sun…

Written by: Bob Thiele and George David Weiss (original English lyrics and music)
Yiddish translation by: Tomi Kalinski

Ikh ze beymer grine,
Royzn royte ikh shpir,
Ikh ze vi zey bliyen
Far mir un far dir,
Un ikh trakht shtil tsu zikh:
“Sara vund’rlekhe velt”.

Ikh ze himlen bloye
Vayse volkns a prakht,
Dem hel-gebentshtn tog,
Di tunkl-heylike nakht,
Un ikh trakht shtil tsu zikh:
“Sara vund’rlekhe velt”.

Di kolirn funem regn-boyn,
Azoy sheyn in himl hoykh,
Shpiglen zikh in di penimer
Fun ale mentshn oykh.
Ikh zey fraynt vos bagrisn zikh:
“Vos hert zikh bay dir?”
Be’emes meynen zey:
“Bist tayer tsu mir”…

‘Kh’her vi oyfelekh veynen,
‘Kh’ze vi zey vaksn sheyn,
Vos zey veln zikh lernen
Vel ikh keyn-mol nisht farshteyn,
Un ikh trakht shtil tsu zikh:
“Sara vund’rlekhe velt”…
Yo, ikh trakht shtil tsu zikh:
“Sara vund’rlekhe velt”.

I see trees of green,
Red roses too.
I see them bloom
For me and for you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue
And clouds of white,
The bright blessed day
The dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world.

The colours of the rainbow
So pretty in the sky,
Are also on the faces
Of people going by.
I see friends shaking hands
Saying, “How do you do?”
They’re really saying
“I love you”.

I hear babies cry,
I watch them grow.
They’ll learn much more
Than I’ll ever know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world.
Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world.

Written by: Wolf Younin, Etl Kovensky

Traybt der umru mikh arumet
Iber lender, shtet,
Shtiker rays ikh fun mayn umet
Un ikh varf avek.
Vert mir gut un ikh ver yunger
Ven ikh zing dos lid,
S’lid fun doyres klezmer zinger
Vos kh’hob oyfgehit.

Tshiri-biri-bim-bom…

Shturem, vintn, shneyen, keltn,
Ver vet zayn mayn shutz?
Es veln zayn mayn zeydns veltn,
Mayn tatns hob un guts.
Zeyer nign un bitokhn,
Alts vos ikh farmog,
Nemt dem bruder, nemt dem shokhn,
Lebt a gutn tog.

Kinder zinger fun dayn troyer,
Tut der vint a zog,
Vos mir troyer, punkt kapoyer,
Freyd un nisht keyn klog.
Mitamol dem zeydns nign
Tut zikh a tsekling:
“Tu mir on dem fargenign,
Eynikl, nu, zing!”

Gey ikh um arum shoyn yorn
Iber lender – shtet;
Vey, vos ikh hob dort forlorn
Oyf mayn langn veg.
Itst, tseshtokhn un tsebrokhn,
Iz mayn rukn – lend,
Nor tsebrekhn mayn bitokhn
Hot keyner nisht gekent

My restlessness drives me around
Over lands and cities,
I tear pieces of my loneliness
And I throw them away.
I feel better and I become younger
When I sing this song,
The song of generations of klezmer singers
That I have preserved.

Tshiri-biri-bim-bom…

Storms, winds, snows, chills,
What will be my protection?
It will be my grandfather’s worlds,
My father’s inheritance.
Their melody and determination,
All that I possess,
Grab your brother or your neighbor,
Live it up today!

Children will be the singers of your sadness,
Says the wind,
Who needs sadness? Just the opposite!
Joy and no lamenting!
Suddenly grandfather’s melody
Rings out:
“Come and give me pleasure:
Sing, grandchild, sing!”

I’ve already been wandering around for years
Through lands and cities;
Woe, what I have lost there,
On my long journey,
Now, all battered, bruised and beaten
Am I physically;
But no-one has been able
To break my determination!