Volume 2 — XIVXIV. DĀS JÜDISCHE KIND (Hausfreund, p. 44)
Reading edition
Tief begrāben in der Finster, Weit vun Luft un' Licht,— Sehst du dort dem blinden Worem, Wie er kriecht? In der Erd' is' er gebōren, Un' beschert Is' ihm, ēbig, ēbig kriechen In der Erd'....
Thousands of streams, thousands of rivers have passed over them, sand has covered them, storms have torn them,
Yet the old, old leaves live on ... though they be yellow, darkened, torn,—a hole here, a spot there;
Here a bit charred, there a line obliterated, and the whole has the appearance of an old cemetery....
What of that? Yes, indeed, that is a burial-ground where lies buried in the grave all that which we shall never have again....
And I, old, sick orphan, full of sorrow, of the awe of death, stand with bent head, stand and weep at the grave of our fathers....
XIV. THE JEWISH CHILD
Deeply buried in darkness, far from air and light,—do you see yonder the blind worm, as he creeps?
In the ground he was born, and it is decreed that forever, yes forever, he shall creep upon the earth....
Wie a Worem in der Finster, Schwach un' stumm un' blind,— Lebst du āb die Kindheit's Jāhren, Jüdisch Kind! Auf dein Wiegel singt die Mame Nit kēin Lied Vun a ruhig stillen Leben, Freiheit, Fried, Vun die Gärtner, vun die Felder, Wu dās frische Kind Spielt un' frēut sich frei un' lustig, Wie der Wind. Nēin! A Quall vun tiefen Jāmmer Rauscht un' klingt.... Oi, wie bitter is' dās Liedel, Wās sie singt! Tiefe Süfzen, hēisse Trähren Mit a starke Macht Klingen, rauschen in dem Liedel Tāg un' Nacht. Tiefe Süfzen, hēisse Trähren, Hunger, Kält Schleppen sich mit dir zusammen Auf der Welt. Un' vun Wiegel bis zum Keewer, Auf dem langen Weg, Wachsen ganze Wälder Zores Ohn' a Breg.... S. Frug.
Like a worm in the darkness, weak and mute and blind,—you live through the years of childhood, Jewish child!
At your cradle your mother sings not a song of a quiet, peaceful life, of freedom, peace,
Of the gardens, of the fields, where the blooming child plays and gladdens free and merry like the wind.
No, a spring of deep sorrow bubbles and resounds.... Oh, how bitter is the song that she sings!
Deep sobs, hot tears with a mighty power resound, bubble in the song day and night.
Deep sobs, hot tears, hunger, cold, drag along with you in the world.
And from your cradle to your grave, upon the long journey, there grow whole forests of sorrows without end....