בּאַבּי יאַר
Shike Driz / שיקע דריז| La versione inglese di Aaron Kramer | |
| BABIJ JAR Avrei certo appeso la culla a una trave e cullato, cullato il mio bimbo, il mio Yankl. Ma la capanna in fiamme è bruciata via; come posso cullarlo il mio bimbo adorato? Avrei certo appeso la culla a un alberello, e cullato, cullato il mio bimbo, il mio Shleyml. Ma non mi è rimasto un filo del suo cuscino, neanche mi è rimasta una stringa delle sue scarpe. Mi sarei tagliato i miei lunghi cernecchi, e ci avrei appeso la culla come a un albero. Ma non so dove cercare ora le loro ossa, le ossa adorate dei miei due bambini. Avrei certo appeso la culla a un alberello, e cullato, cullato il mio bimbo, il mio Shleyml. Aiutatemi, mamme, a tirarmi fuori una melodia, aiutatemi, mamme, a cullare il Babij Jar. | BABI-YAR I'd have picked the right beam For a crib to be swung on And have cradled and cradled My Yankel, the young one. But in fire and flame The hut fell to ashes; Where then am I to rock My boy, my precious? To nettles, thorn and thistles The village road surrenders; The hushed white doves Have been transformed to cinders. * I'd have chosen a tree; My cradle would have hung there; I'd have taken my Shloimel, Sung him and sung there; But I've not one thread Of his pillow-case, And of his shoes Not so much as a lace. Not a twig, not a leaf... The hearty oak Is a heap of coals That smolder and smoke... * I'd have cut off my braids, Completely undone them, And have hung my darlings' Cradle upon them; But I don't know where They are now, the bones - The priceless bones Of my two little sons. Help me, mothers, help me Tear the music from my breast! Help me, mothers, help me rock Babi-Yar to rest! *These verses are not sung in the musical version. |
