איך האָב נישט קיין ווײַב און איך האָב נישט קיין קינדער,
I have no wife and I have no children,
Work 114 of 440
Page 129. 'Crosses' conclusion: The speaker has no wife, no children, has long forgotten how to be himself. Still red is the silvered snow. He stands alone like a wooden cross — body in length, hands in width. He has become the cross itself, the crucified one. 'Drowsy Little Boy' (Dremlender Yingele): A devastating lullaby. The speaker addresses a drowsy child: don't look into my eyes, bury yourself deeper in sleep. 'I have died and see through death: you, my first, the last fades away. Are you destined to be the last?' The child hears prayers and bitter weeping — the speaker weeps alone. A father figure, possibly already dead, singing to his child. 'Grasses of Graves' (Grozn fun Kvoyrim) begins: Gathering grasses and spreading them — a bed prepared for later. The death-bed made of grave-grasses.
איך האָב נישט קיין ווײַב און איך האָב נישט קיין קינדער,
פֿון לאַנג שוין, אַז איך האָב פֿאַרגעסן זײַן זיך.
(נאָך רויט איז דער ווײַסער געזילבערטער שניי)
און אָט איך אַלײן — ווי אַ הילצערנער צלם:
מײַן גוף אין דער לענג, מײַנע הענט אין דער ברייט.
(דער ווײַסער געזילבערטער שניי איז נאָך רויט)
דרעמלענדער ייִנגעלע
דרעמלענדער ייִנגעלע,
ייִנגעלע מײַן,
קוק נישט צו מיר
אין די אויגן אַרײַן.
טיפֿער און טיפֿער
אין שלאָף גראָב זיך אײַן.
דרעמלענדער ייִנגעלע,
ייִנגעלע מײַן.
איך בין געשטאָרבן
און זע דורכן טויט:
דו — גאָר מײַן ערשטער,
דער לעצטער פֿאַרגייט.
ביסטו באַשערט
דער לעצטער צו זײַן?
דרעמלענדער ייִנגעלע,
ייִנגעלע מײַן.
הערסטו געבעטן
און ביטער געוויין.
ווייס, אַז דאָס וויין איך,
דאָס וויין איך אַלײן.
גראָזן פֿון קבֿרים
איך קלײַב זיי און שפּרייט,
דיר אַ געלעגער
אויף שפּעטער געגרייט.
Ikh hob nisht keyn vayb un ikh hob nisht keyn kinder,
fun lang shoyn, az ikh hob fargesn zayn zikh.
(Nokh royt iz der vayser gezilberter shney)
Un ot ikh aleyn — vi a hiltserner tselem:
mayn guf in der leng, mayne hent in der breyt.
(Der vayser gezilberter shney iz nokh royt)
Dremlender Yingele
Dremlender yingele,
yingele mayn,
kuk nisht tsu mir
in di oygn arayn.
Tifer un tifer
in shlof grob zikh ayn.
Dremlender yingele,
yingele mayn.
Ikh bin geshtorbn
un ze durkhn toyt:
du — gor mayn ershter,
der letster fargeyt.
Bistu bashert
der letster tsu zayn?
Dremlender yingele,
yingele mayn.
Herstu gebetn
un biter geveyn.
Veys, az dos veyn ikh,
dos veyn ikh aleyn.
Grozn fun Kvoyrim
Ikh klayb zey un shpreyt,
dir a geleger
oyf shpeter gegreyt.
I have no wife and I have no children,
for long already I have forgotten to be myself.
(Still red is the white silvered snow)
And here I am alone — like a wooden cross:
my body in length, my hands in width.
(The white silvered snow is still red)
Drowsy Little Boy
Drowsy little boy,
my little boy,
don't look at me
into my eyes.
Deeper and deeper
bury yourself in sleep.
Drowsy little boy,
my little boy.
I have died
and see through death:
you — my very first,
the last fades away.
Are you destined
to be the last?
Drowsy little boy,
my little boy.
You hear prayers
and bitter weeping.
Know that I weep,
I weep alone.
Grasses of Graves
I gather them and spread,
a bed for you
prepared for later.
Page 129. 'Crosses' conclusion: The speaker has no wife, no children, has long forgotten how to be himself. Still red is the silvered snow. He stands alone like a wooden cross — body in length, hands in width. He has become the cross itself, the crucified one. 'Drowsy Little Boy' (Dremlender Yingele): A devastating lullaby. The speaker addresses a drowsy child: don't look into my eyes, bury yourself deeper in sleep. 'I have died and see through death: you, my first, the last fades away. Are you destined to be the last?' The child hears prayers and bitter weeping — the speaker weeps alone. A father figure, possibly already dead, singing to his child. 'Grasses of Graves' (Grozn fun Kvoyrim) begins: Gathering grasses and spreading them — a bed prepared for later. The death-bed made of grave-grasses.
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