DER YIDDISH-VINKL June 6, 2003
On the occasion of Israel’s celebration of its Independence Day, the Forverts devoted its “Pearls of Yiddish Poetry” page to several selections of poetry on the theme of the Israeli state. One of these was by H. Leivick who lived in Israel at the time of the historic Israeli Declaration of Independence. What follows is a transliteration of Leivick’s poem by Goldie A.Gold followed by an English version by Gus Tyler.
Tsu a Shteyn Hob Ikh Tsugeleygt Mayn Ponem
Tsu a shteyn hob ikh tsugeleygt mayn ponem,
Tsu a shpitsik granitenem shteyn —
Kh’hob gevolt in im epes derkonen
Nor vos — iz nit klor mir aleyn.
A granit oyf di berg fun Yerusholaim.
Un arum hobn yidn geflantst
Gantse velder, di berg tsu banayen,
Un derbay hobn kinder getantst.
Der tants tsitert durkh mayne beyner,
Kh’bin mekane di kindershe trit.
Zey tantsn, un ikh — tsertl shteyner
Un ikh glet a kaltn granit.
Ikh leyg tsu tsum shteyn mayne lipn
Un kh’veys nit aleyn tsulib vos;
Tsi vert iz, es zol zikh farknipn
Tsvishn undz aza nes fun an os.
Fun di ershte tsebrokhene lukhes
Vos der midber aleyn hot faryit? —
Tsi gleyb ikh aleyn az ikh zukh es,
Ot do oyfn kaltn granit?
Ikh vart, yo, ikh vart tsu derhern
A kol oykh a flam, tsu derzen.
Ikh vart bizn oyfgang fun shtern
Ven afile s’tut gor nisht geshen.
Zey kumen, di shtern, zey kumen,
Un yeder fun zey laykht un hit
Dos tife farborgene shtumen
Fun hekhstn un klenstn granit.
Onto a Stone I Gently Laid My Face
Onto a stone I gently laid my face
I laid it on a piece of granite hard.
I sought some hidden meaning in that place
A meaning that with joy I would regard.
A granite from Jerusalem’s high hills
And Jewish people planted all around
A forest full of people with strong wills
And children dancing on the blessed ground.
Their dancing vibrates through my yearning bones.
I envy how their little feet do go.
They dance but I am left with prickly stones.
This granite pillow’s all that I do know.
I hug the stone and kiss it with my lips
I really do not know the reason why.
Perhaps I seek a miracle that drips
Upon my stone from heaven’s blessed sky.
Perhaps my stone’s a fragment well preserved
Of one great tablet that made history.
And through the years this holy tablet served
To make life meaningful to you and me.
I wait, oh yes, indeed, I wait and wait
I wait to hear a voice or see a flame.
I wait to see a miracle that’s great
Though nothing changes, all is just the same
The stars, they come and go and come again,
And all of them do shine as if they know
The secret of the stone but don’t say when
They’ll tell me as the years do come and go.
A message from our Publisher & CEO Rachel Fishman Feddersen
I hope you appreciated this article. Before you go, I’d like to ask you to please support the Forward’s award-winning, nonprofit journalism during this critical time.
We’ve set a goal to raise $260,000 by December 31. That’s an ambitious goal, but one that will give us the resources we need to invest in the high quality news, opinion, analysis and cultural coverage that isn’t available anywhere else.
If you feel inspired to make an impact, now is the time to give something back. Join us as a member at your most generous level.
— Rachel Fishman Feddersen, Publisher and CEO
