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[Page 272]
Translated by David Goldman
I shall never forget
My Lipkan, my shtetl My mother's store My father's kleizel [1] And our tiny little house. Into a room as small as a peephole, With its broken roof, Winter would pour in And onto the bed the rain would flow. In the same room we had our clothes and the kitchen. It was so crowded that we couldn't catch our breaths. We had in there a bench and on it was gas, A washbasin and a sink, A keg of watermelons and a barrel of herring. The children played between people's feet, And in our hearts it was dirty and loathsome. There was a fellow name Shachne Zisel Who used to come in, And while standing on one foot Wanted to know what everyone was saying. What one someone doing under the bed, Who was doing a circumcision and who was getting divorced. I used to enjoy the rain in autumn And watching the gentiles chopping and sawing wood in winter Mother sold fish to everyone, Father would come to the weekday table, and on Shabbos sing songs. Mother always worried about paying the teacher and buying clothes for Yomtof, as well as leather boots And wood for winter. For Pesach, Oy, dear G-d, May we live to see, eggs and schmaltz. Father milled salt, And chopped the wood, To save a few pennies He would bring water from afar, in rain and snow And lead the prayers in shul and blow the shofar. He would harbor refugees from Ukraine. Because they had to make a living, people served every idol And from the Romanians constantly suffered. Our large business was in salt, also soap and heating oil As well as sugar, cheese and butter. But with all that, our life wasn't sweet, just bitter. We had some really rich relatives Who would help us only once in a blue moon. We didn't blame them, G-d forbid, They treated us like used Hoshanah Rabba willow branches. Because we made every effort To bring home some money ourselves. We really did live on the gold mountain. But gold, as is known, was in very short supply. However, grain merchants were abundant, They dealt with Shereotz and Titskan. People would quarrel over a gentile, And things even went up in smoke, Fighting each other and occasionally breaking a head. Chantschele sold eggs, And would quarrel with Leibush and Hirsh Ber. Nearby was the silent cemetery, Which seemed to warn: hey, Zelig, hey Zalman and Kalman! Where are you running to? To a useless trade fair? Today it's us, but tomorrow it will be you! We had in town, yes, on the gold mountain, a little school named for Boyan, It used to plead with the Jews: Jews! Be adult and religious, Remember: G-d's eyes are everywhere!
I think that in the diaspora and in Israel
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Translator's Footnote
The List of the Deceased on page 273 is done alphabetically by Zvi Wien and Yaakov Berger. The spelling is Yiddish.
The bottom lines on page 274 simply states that the aforementioned list
does not list people by nicknames that refer to their parents' names,
professions or hometowns: i.e. Srul Malka's, Shmerl Schneider (tailor); Hershel
Titskaner (from Titskan), etc.
The last page (after the List of
Deceased) is a sort of poem. It simply reads:
Eretz, Eretz (Land of
Israel, Land of Israel)
Do not cover my blood,
Do not give my blood to
you!
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