[Page 478]

Jews, it is a festive day today And a holiday for the town, Is this a small matter? – It would appear That we have a Yiddish periodical! How many days and years Have we become used to Sitting, and looking at what people Write from afar. All weddings and circumcisions – You will immediately be the first to know, And what anyone does or makes, Whether by day or night, Will not be withheld from you – Everything will be told. Apart from that, you will find In the Volkovysker Leben Every Friday, quite early Everything worth relating, Always, energies permitting, From what has transpired in every week. And to this, my friends, Let us raise a glass, And let us wish L'Chaim. Let us live to reach the New Year and let it be possible To publish her daily, Full of details, clean and pure. Indeed, fit for proper gentlefolk! Number One, August 1926

There is great festivity in town right now: There is going to be a set of elections To the municipal government, to the beloved one That must be selected And also be freshly renewed. Heaven, earth and candidates!…. All we do is take counsel with one another, And we argue and dispute with each other With an impetus that is both solid and strong – All because of the new mark. A mark here, and a mark there: “A Bog: – “One”, “One” – “Bog”….. Number 40, July 1927

Nobody dreamt it Nobody, really nobody! The first edition Surprised everyone, Even though it was modest And small in it s format – And what will you say now To number one hundred? It is a jubilee! And such an occurrence – Is a real joy among friends, As to enemies – let their gall bladders burst…. What a journey it was! – Laid out with blocks… All we saw continuously Were turned up noses… The noses of the printers The noses of the typesetters The noses of the writers The noses of the readers. Let it be said, my friends,

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What critics! It is, after all, a holiday today – So we toast L'Chaim! Let us gather strength And move on the journey, Prepared to serve the reader, Again being true to him. We did something And great was the result Volkovysker Leben – May you live long! Vivat! Number 100, Year 1929

God does not abandon our town, Does not let her fall into crisis – Doles out success with a shovel And a living – in substantial quantity … Everyone's mind is at ease, The belly also has no complaints… The world is talking about some crisis, We – we have nothing to say of this nature!… And the tongues also wag… All we do is talk and talk… Wheels are standing, and we complain And it is difficult only to part. Is there a lack of subjects? – God does not abandon us Here is a bench – a fortune! Here, go kill yourself for glory, Or – just for the hell of it…. Our beloved Magistrate wants, Only to provide us with aggravation And [he] wants the few storekeepers To be deeply drowned in the muck… Two cantors now hold Our city in a tight vise – Both are wanted for the High Holy Days To be retained in the Great Synagogue. This is good – except it is the Devil's handiwork (There are no lack of wagging tongues in town) Shortcomings are researched and surfaced Indeed, in connection with both singers. And what? About one it is said, That… (a spiteful thing, a whopper!) On the Holy Day, Yom Kippur, He tasted some food… And the second one – at the Hairdresser's (so he said),that he Demanded his beard be shaped to a tip “This should be left for the Boors”…. The town is spinning on wheels And this finally reached The Rabbi – The Rabbi lays down an exposition, And pours his wrath out on both of them. Number 173, August 1930

Well, it has been sinned already, thank God, Also the little market of the town, It has been sealed that way already, It looks like the list was long… Shout there and shout here – Nothing helps any longer It is quiet in the street, no one is to be seen Let the wagons come from the villages And set themselves up here – Whoever with wheat, and whoever with rye, Whoever with seeds, whoever with flax – Nobody comes to town. Not a calf and not a cow, No fowl and no grain, Out with onions and potatoes – There is nothing for succor! No gentile woman brings even an egg – Everything is lost – oh, woe! Stores stand silent as if orphaned The storekeepers sit, sunk in worry; An executor enters – An now first one hears a song, He writes here, he writes there – The ‘merchant’ turns green with gall.

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The town becomes “sanitized,” Magically clean without a dust mote; The house swept clean of all the mud Everywhere, in each and every corner. Everything in the tub, and everything in the wash, Clean in the streets, and the pockets cleaned out… It isn't going well for the teachers, Pity, it's not in their minds, I am referring here to the Tarbut teachers, Find no solace for themselves: The committee has let them go And left them a drift. The “Committee of Two Protagonists” contends Against old, loyal servants Doesn't think a great deal, and imports New teachers for the school. It doesn't seem like it's too bad And go figure out who is right. Classes stand tightly locked; The pupils wander around all over; All the children – for the veterans! For the veterans – all are “Good Fellows!”… Locks are torn off . And in the committee and among the pedagogues A full-blown fight starts And blows are traded… After a fine meeting, The parties are brought together… And the dispute – proceeds further, A new committee will be selected, Studies will resume again – Everything will be exactly as it was. The personnel have won – Hurrah! Hurrah! The conflict is over! What a time! – Even teachers Make more and more progress. Fighting for their existence Nothing like, indeed – teachers! (The teacher will have to forgive What doesn't end in a rhyme). Number 175, September 1930

The issue of cantorial style Was bruited about town for a long time. Now we have yet a different tune – “Let us sing a song about the Rabbi of the town”…

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