For Whom Do I Sing My Songs

[an error occurred while processing this directive]

For Whom Do I Sing My Songs

Poems on Social Themes

To Sholem Aleichem *
(On the Occasion of his 100th Birthday)

Though one hundred years have passed
Since the date of his birth,
The treasures that he has bequeathed us
Will eternally enrich the earth.

Sholem Aleichem was already writing,
When he was merely a stripling-
At a time, when 'mongst Jews
Laughter, jest and humor
Were often considered sacrilegious.

The desire of this great writer
Was to make Diaspora woes lighter;
So, putting his talent to excellent use,
He turned into laughter, every abuse.

And his characters, he drew
From people that he really knew-
Such as the worker, the toiler, the tailor,
The tinker, the salesman, the peddler. . .
The matchmaker-and the meddler.

The beggar and the rich man
Were described with all their foibles.
The rabbi in long beard and caftan-
With his skull cap and long curls.

He wrote of the landlord and his lady-
Of the rich, who went to the sea-
Shore or spas to improve their health-
And thus spent part of their accumulated wealth....

He wrote of insurance agents-
And of Jews who were indigent....
Of those who could make a dollar from thin air-
And of those, whose earnings were very spare.

The rich he dressed in diamonds, furs and feathers-
The poor-in torn pants, and worn shoe-leather.
His settings were varied, as were his characters....
The unwed and the married, were topics for laughter.

Even the foods described by his pen
Would set the moods for much he has written.

His description of the Sabbath fish-
With its accompanying pungent horseradish
Could really any appetite whet-
Or make you pull your belt tighter yet. . .

His topics with the seasons would vary-
Came Shevuoth, and his topic was dairy....
Foods made of milk, eggs or cheese, and the like-
All described for mouth-watering appetite.

Even Yom Kippur prayers of repentance-
Asking for blessings-and forgiveness;
The "Kapores"** sacrifice and the tears
Were fit subjects for his peers.

He wrote of "Menachem Mendel"
With his thousand alibis and multiple exaggerations,
And of his spouse, "Sheine Sheindel"
Who scorched the earth with her maledictions.

Nothing escaped his eye, ear or pen....
Even the making of a revolution....
He captured the ideals of those exiled to Siberia. . .
Real sorrows were tempered with moments of
euphoria.

Such weighty problems as conversion,
Pogroms and strikes, and emigration,
Weren't from his stories omitted....
But to his readers, humorously transmitted....

His metier became laughter through tears,
With which he did beguile his peers....
He always felt at one with his readers,
Whether they be townspeople, the poor, or the
leaders....

"Fiddler on the Roof" or "Tevye the Dairyman"
Has universal appeal to "Everyman". . .
The people may be different-the problems the same-
"Laughter through tears" brought Sholem Aleichem
great fame.

His last will and testament is still being respected
As regards reading his stories, with humor infected....
His writings appeal to all humanity-
Since the problems of humankind have their
universality...

Sholem Aleichem will long be remembered-
Not only on dates of birth and death....
For the treasures of his pen will remain, indeed,
To enrich all the peoples of the earth.
*(Freely translated from the Yiddish by Jeanette and
Yudel Cohen)

** Kapores-sacrificial fowl or fish slaughtered on
the eve of the Day of Atonement.

**************************************

Early Morning

Today there's no desire for song,
The world about us seems all wrong,
There's no desire for slumber,
I hear a divine voice thunder:

With sleep I am done,
The day is already dawning. . .
The night has gone- For the yesteryears-there is no
mourning.

With windows thrown open
Your dreaming must cease....
You will welcome, you will welcome,
The sweet sounds of peace!

Yesterdays' sorrow
Replace with joy now, you must-
Prepare for the morrow
A path that is just!

********************************

Spring and Freedom

How lovely the sun spreads its warmth
And the breeze is caressingly gentle;
Young flowerers in headlong growth-
As if a wager to settle.

Delightful is the fragrant air-
Harmonious is the song
Of the birds on the branches
Twittering like tiny bells being rung.

But the little bird, the yellow one-
Is caged from the world without-
Using its far-sighted eyes. . .
It peers suspiciously about. . .

Pray tell, little bird, why into your melody
A grey note seems to creep?
You hide inside your little nest
As if dissatisfied with your keep.

To you a small gift I bring-
A fat little worm, freshly caught,
Still wriggling. . .
Beloved mine. . . don't be so distraught! . .

Take a snip, little yellow beak-
And swallow that little worm.
Sing your sweet little melody-
Today you shall joyous be! . . .

That's right! Now, well satisfied,
You'll have your well-earned rest,
And when you'll awaken, my little song-bird,
You'll have food of the very best.

The Bird:
Your gift very easily I can forego-
As for the fresh worm that you gave. . .
Just let me from this cage freely go-
I'll dig my own, when no longer a slave....

To depend upon your largess-
No matter your intent. . .
I'm stuck inside this hand-made nest,-
The cause of my lament....

Only free me from my thralldom-
Let me go my way at last.....
I'll build my own nest with feathery down,
And peck for a worm in the dewy grass.

Heartily will I then sing a song-
With love, and a new motif ....
Release me from these fetters strong. . .
Let my steps be free-let me live!

My little heart will sing
Gay melodies to you once more-
And my young nestlings will also
Greet your open door....

************************************

Proud Young BridalBraids

On decorous thoroughfare-
In brightly lit display case,
Lie luxuries odd and rare-
Exciting, dazzling, shimmering in their place.

Hair styled in the latest fashion,
Brought in from foreign clime,
For the ultra-modern woman,
Exquisitely curled and shaped so fine....

Combed in ringlets-
In colors of every hue....
Twisted in waveless-
Presaging new modes that are due. . .

Reflecting a charm of their very own,
Are proud young bridal braids of hair:
Chestnut colored, black and brown-
Undulating in waving tiers.

Blonde strands so delicate-
Silky soft as that of children. .
On twig-like pegs are set,
Fresh as if blown by the wind.

Hair, like on high turbans borne,
Hair, just turned gray,
Cropped and shorn-
As if on green turf lay. .

And wigs-yellow or red,
Twisted, so as to be wondered at-
Like saffron-dyed holiday bread,-
For sale-so great is their merit.

Women's jewelry? in baskets brimming;-
Imported from afar.
One thinks that within them lives are stirring
So dazzling in brilliance they are. . .

The sight of those silky strands in array,
Leaves me no quiet, no rest....
In a corner, hanging amid garish display-
My heart throbs .... great is my distress!

On this decorous thoroughfare,
I stand near brightly lit display case,
And gaze at these commodities bizarre-
Eyes tearing . . . wetting my face!

********************************

My Desire

Would that I could describe,
If I were able to,
In the simplest words I know-
As to how things are-
And how things go.....
Oh, if only my mind was at rest,
So my thoughts I could analyze-
And express
All that within me lies-
Then indeed would I
Reach the heights of "Mount Sinai."

My very first sentences would have read
Of my appreciation of potatoes and bread....
I would my blessings yield
To hay-gathering in the field. . .
I would exalt the master of slippers and shoes;
I would bless the brilliance of the needle that sews. . .
The wheels of the clock that rotate night and day-
The laying of brick ... the kneading of clay.....
The building of shelter, where man can reside,-
And for people o'er the great world wide....

And in all my writing,
Daily, I would "Zmires"¹ sing-
I would bless the hands that dig the earth....
And raise infinitely high-humanity's worth!

¹ Zmires-Sabbath songs.

**************************************

Two Dolls

Two dolls of one manufacture-
One found its way to the wealthy. . .
The other-into a hovel of the poor. . .
The former, midst joy, ease and satiety-
The latter, the opposite sphere.

One day, the doll of accidental prosperity
Turning to the other, said:
"Look at me! At my beautiful garb that flatters,
And look at you-who only wear tatters."

The latter replied: "You say I'm in rags attired,
And you-in exquisite toilette, so admired,
Have fallen into rich hands. . . with the well-fed . . .
Do you know what it is to go hungry to bed?"

"Do you see, sister, what I witness, the moment I arise? At every step so drear,
Where in the glance of a child's eyes
There glistens a tiny round tear.

"The tear-wetted cheeks I see-
Those bright eyes, wherever I go. . .
Where hunger wrenches at each belly,
While life overflows with woe. . .

"And you, ever catered to-
Never lacking for caress, nor kiss,-
Your day is laid out for you. . .
How can you, rich doll, know
How the other half lives?"

Two dolls of the same manufacture. . .
One found its way to the wealthy,
The other-to a hovel of the poor. . .
The former, found ease, joy and satiety-
The latter, the opposite sphere.

*********************************

A Sunny Morn

How does one warm one's vitals?
How suppress one's cheerless thoughts?
So that we can, in proper fashion,
Greet a sunny morn!

No matter that the weather's cold-
The sun shines nonetheless. . .
I look for something to console me-
And I ponder: 'twas ever thus. . .

But how can we prevent
Such gruesome injustices?
I ponder and I ask:
Is the world also mine?
As it is Iris's or Johnnie's;
Or Katherine's or Jamie's?
If so, then I too
Am a party to all this....

I, too, want to serve the world
With all the strength within me. . .
Contribute my small efforts-
Nurture the branches of my tree-
Yield up my fruit To a cooperative earth....
And live with humankind-
With my people,
In dignity and peace.

Blessed will be the morn
When humankind will
From enmity and hatred be free.
And should there come Such a day-
When rays from the bright sun
Will bring warmth indeed
To all humankind's vitals....
Then. . . oh, then. . .
Will we sing
Only blessed, joyous songs!

**************************************

Hope for The New Year

Pondering brought decision for joyous refrain,
To reawaken hope and spirit again. . .
Indeed, 'twill be a difficult path to follow-
For too deeply etched within me is my sorrow.

So I write my very first line. . .
An accomplishment of good omen-
Putting promising word on paper, at last,
Which practically my heart caressed. . .

Encouraged, hopeful, in that-for which I long. . .
All about me is in song,-
I see the world stride toward the peace at hand. . .
United is humankind of every land! . . .

Violins with joyful tunes, I hear....
Every wall bedecked with a peace banner. . .
Faces glowing joyfully-
The air quivers with talk of amity....

The fields urge: It's time to sow!
Once again will roosters crow. . .
Rousing humankind to till the soil-
The earth is thirsting for fruitful toil!.

Oh, how heartily will I sing. . .
Soon the bells will ring
In the peace; the hours will sweeten,
And the skies once more will brighten.

Impatient am I to see the wonder
Of trees greening far and near. . .
Fruit for humanity and its children-
And for each, a lovely blossom to bear!

***********************************

[an error occurred while processing this directive]