1. |
Doine / דוינע
04:10
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Shpil du klezmer mir a volekh,
Gelt mezumen, ot o tsol ikh,
Un du poyker poyk bim-bam-
Haynt iz khoge, haynt iz khram.
S'hot der vint gepatsht, geshmisn,
Di tsintsares mikh gebisn,
Zun gebrent mikh un gebrotn-
Nisht keyn vent un nisht keyn shotn.
S'hot geregnt, s'hot geroset,
Nalakes shof hob ikh geposet,
Er hot brinza , shof un vol-
Ikh geblibn hoyl un gol.
Nisht keyn shof un nisht keyn brinza,
Un keyn korme far der mindze,
Saydn nor a grub afn tsvinter-
Iberkumen dort dem vinter.
Shpilt zhe shtarker, hey kapelye,
Shpilt a doine , shpilt a zhelie!
Nisht keyn shof un nisht keyn rinder,
Nor a hungerik vayb un kinder.
.........................................................
You, musician, play me a volekh,
Earn some money, I’ll pay you soon enough,
And you drummer, drum-
Today is their holiday, today is the harvest festival.
The wind beat me and whipped me,
Mosquitos bit me,
The sun burnt me, roasted me-
No walls, and no shadows.
It rained and it dewed,
I tended his herds of sheep,
He has cheese, sheep and wool-
I remain empty and hollow.
No sheep, and no cheese,
And no feed for the mare,
Only a grave in the churchyard-
To survive the winter.
Play louder, Hey musicians,
Play a doina, play a lament!
No sheep and no cattle,
Only a hungry wife and children.
Translated by Benjy Fox-Rosen with thanks to Sonia Gollance and Itzik Gottesman
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2. |
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Eyle toldes noyekh,
Fun bronfn hot men koyekh,
A bisl vayn der iker,
Ivanke vert nor shiker-
Ken men mishn altn nayem
Gist men tsu a bisl mayim:
Vakst di kretshme breyter, greser
Shoymen vaynen in di feser.
Eyle toldes noyekh.
Eyle toldes noyekh,
Fun bronfn hot men koyekh,
A bisl vayn der iker,
Ivanke vert nor shiker-
Tsolt er shoyn nisht mit mezumen,
Mit a skletsl vet er kumen.
Vern kamers ful mit tvies
Un di kastns mit metsiyes.
Eyle toldes noyekh.
Eyle toldes noyekh,
Filt men zikh in koyekh.
Veyst men shoyn vos khay di taytsh iz:
Dames, beler, luksn, datshes;
Un di kinder- gimnazistn,
Doktoyrim vaksn tsi yoristn.
Eyle toldes noyekh!
Oy! v'eyle toldes noyekh,
Avek altsding mitn royekh,
S'hobn im di bney vayzose
Tsugenumen di parnose;
Zitsn meydn un reb yerukhem
Brengt far zey nisht keyn shidukhim.
V'eyle toldes noyekh.
V'eyle toldes noyekh.
Er hot shoyn nit keyn koyekh.
Klingt dos dorf mit redes, droshes:
A piavke noyekh un a roshe iz!
Ale vinkln mit geshpenster-
Flien shteyner in di fenster.
V'eyle toldes noyekh.
............................................
This is the tale of Noah,
From whiskey one has strength,
A little bit of wine is essential,
Ivanke gets only drunker-
You can mix the old and the new,
Add a splash of water, or two:
The tavern grows wider, bigger,
The wines froth in their casks,
This is the tale of Noah.
This is the tale of Noah,
From whiskey one has strength,
A little bit of wine is essential,
Ivanke gets only drunker-
He's already run out of cash,
He will come with his cart.
The store rooms will be full of grains,
And the chests brimming with bargains.
This is the tale of Noah.
This is the tale of Noah,
You feel confident,
You know what life is for:
Ladies, balls, luxuries, country homes;
And the children- students at the gymnasium,
Future doctors or lawyers.
This is the tale of Noah.
Oy! This is the tale of Noah,
It has all gone up in smoke,
Vayzose’s offspring have
Taken away his livelihood;
The young women sit, Yerukhem
The matchmaker has no one for them.
And this is the tale of Noah.
And this is the tale of Noah,
He has no more strength,
The village resounds with rumors, falsehoods:
Noah is a leech, he is wicked!
In every corner is a specter,
Stones fly through the windows.
And this is the tale of Noah.
Translated by Benjy Fox-Rosen with thanks to Sonia Gollance and Itzik Gottesman
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3. |
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Khotsh kh'hob nit keyn prute,
Nit keyn shove kesef,
Di yad vi zayn shite
Shtrekt mikh oys der eysev-
Gib ikh.
Gib ikh!
Oy, oy, oy vey, oy vey gib ikh!
Khotsh ikh hob keyn heym nisht,
Keyn shtub vu tsu voynen,
Di velt, zi traybt un yogt mikh,
Kh'tu ir rak nisht loynen-
Leb ikh,
Leb ikh!
Oy, oy, oy vey, oy vey leb ikh!
Aza yor af mayne sonim,
Sara tam un sara ponim
S'hot mayn lebn, mayn farmegn,
Un mayn vander af di vegn-
Un dokh gib ikh!
Un dokh leb ikh!
Oy, oy, oy vey, oy vey leb ikh!
Khotsh ikh hob keyn fis nisht,
Keyn eyver nisht keyn gantsn,
Muz ikh zikh a mol dokh
hastik-vild tsetantsn-
Tants ikh.
Tants ikh!
Oy, oy, oy, oy vey, oy vey tants ikh!
Khotsh ikh hob keyn shtim nisht,
Keyn kol vos zol klingen,
Muz ikh zikh a mol dokh
Vild azoy tsezingen-
Zing ikh,
Zing ikh!
Oy, oy, oy, oy vey, oy vey zing ikh!
Aza yor af mayne sonim,
Sara tam un sara ponim
S'hot mayn lebn, mayn farmegn,
Un mayn vander af di vegn-
Un dokh tants ikh!
Un dokh zing ikh!
Oy, oy, oy vey, oy vey leb ikh!
.......................................................
Although I haven't got a cent,
Nothing of any value,
As is his way
Esau stretches his hand out to me-
I give.
I give!
Oy vey, I give!
Although I have no home,
No house to live in,
The world drives me and hunts me,
I am of no worth to it-
I live,
I live,
Oy vey, I live!
A curse on my enemies,
Such a taste, and such a face
Have my life, my possessions
And my wanderings on the paths-
And so I give!
And so I live!
Oy vey I live!
Although I have no feet,
No complete limbs,
I sometimes must
Dance rushing wild-
I dance,
I dance!
Oy vey I dance!
Although I have no voice,
Nothing which could sound,
I sometimes must
Sing wildly-
I sing,
I sing!
Oy vey I sing!
A curse on my enemies,
Such a taste, and such a face
Have my life, my possessions
And my wanderings on the paths-
And so I dance!
And so I sing!
Oy vey I live!
Translated by Benjy Fox-Rosen with thanks to Sonia Gollance and Itzik Gottesman
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4. |
Shkie / שקיעה
04:51
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In mayn kleynem, tunklen tsimer
Zits ikh eynzam un fargesn.
Dikh mekane bin ikh, bruder,
Dayne feygl monen esn.
In a vinkl hengt a shpin dort,
Nogt fun flign oys dos khayes.
In dem nign fun der gril dort
her ikh lang shoyn nit keyn nayes.
Vest mikh rotn, vest mikh eytsn
Zikh a nestl oystsuboyen.
Nor mayn harts vos filt dem shturem
Lozt keyn feygl mikh nisht khoven.
Vagn toybn, vayse toybn,
Flien fun di khmares hekher.
Falt a regn, ritshkes yogn,
Farbn blutik royt di tekher.
Akh, di khmares, un di shpinen,
Un vi vey mir tuen di toybn-
Du zest bruder, feygl veynen,
Un ikh- blutik royte shoybn.
........................................................
In my small, dark room
I sit lonely and forgotten.
I am jealous of you brother,
Your birds demand their food.
In a corner hangs a spider,
He gnaws the life from flies.
It is long since I have heard anything new in the cricket's song.
You will counsel me, advise me
To build myself a little nest.
But my heart, which feels the storm
Won't allow me to shelter any birds.
White doves dare,
to fly higher than the clouds.
A rain falls, the streams rush,
Coloring the rooftops blood red.
Oh, the clouds, and the spiders,
And how the doves make me ache-
You see brother, birds cry,
And I- blood red windowpanes.
Translated by Benjy Fox-Rosen with thanks to Sonia Gollance and Itzik Gottesman
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5. |
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Ver s'hot felder,
Ver s'hot velder,
Ver s'hot a droshke,
Un ikh hob nor tsores, dales,
A balbeysl moshke.
Hey, ferdlekh flit zhe yogt zhe,
Shlept zhe di parshoynim:
Moshken revekh muz men brengen,
Andersh vet nisht loynen.
Ver s'hot shof
Un ver s'hot rinder,
Ver s'hot gor tekher,
Un ikh hob a vayb un kinder,
hoyzn ful mit lekher.
Ver s'zitst af shtuln, benklekh,
Un ver in foteln,
Un ikh zits af moshkes kelnye
Trayb tsu di hoteln.
Zukh a porets zikh a khone,
A mlune zukh a latkhn,
Muz ikh hern, zen un shvaygn,
Tsu mol nokh zayn der shadkhn.
Brent der frost, brot di zun,
Tsi s'geyt a regn,
Ikh muz shtendik umetum
Zukhn naye vegn.
..........................................................
Some have fields,
Some have forests,
Some have a wagon,
And I have only troubles, poverty,
And a boss, Moshke.
Hey horses, fly, pull,
Shlep the people:
Moshke needs his profits,
Or I don’t earn.
Some have sheep,
Some have cattle,
Some have only rags,
And I have a wife and children,
And pants full of holes.
Some sit on stools, benches,
And some in easy chairs,
And I sit on Moshke’s coach
Driving to the hotels.
A rich man looks for a hooker,
A crook looks for a hideout,
I must hear, see and be silent,
And sometimes be the matchmaker.
The frost burns, the sun roasts,
It may even rain,
I must always
Look for new ways.
Translated by Benjy Fox-Rosen with thanks to Sonia Gollance and Itzik Gottesman
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Benjy Fox-Rosen Vienna, Austria
Benjy Fox-Rosen (Los Angeles, 1984) is a singer, bassist and composer based in Vienna, Austria. Fox-Rosen has been commissioned to write works for choirs, artistic interventions, and audio-installations; he has produced two CDs of his own music, both of which were recognized by the Forward in the top-five Jewish music album of the year category. ... more
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