נו קויפֿט־זשע פּאַפּיראָסן,
נו קויפֿט־זשע סאַכאַרין!
געוואָרן איז הײַנט סחורה ביליק ווערט:
אַ לעבן פֿאַר אַ גראָשן,
אַ פּרוטה, אַ פֿאַרדינסט ־־־
פֿון געטאָ־הענדלער האָט איר דאָך געהערט.
כ'הייס ישׂראליק, כ'בין אַ קינד פֿון געטאָ.
כ'הייס ישׂראליק, אַ הפֿקרדיקער יונג.
כאָטש פֿאַרבליבן גאָלע נעטאָ,
דערלאַנג איך אַלץ נאָך ־־־
אַ סווישטשע און אַ זונג!
אַ מאַנטל אָן אַ קראַגן,
תּחתּונים פֿון אַ זאַק,
קאַלאָשן האָב איך ־־־ ס'פֿעלן נאָר די שיך.
און ווער עס וועט נאָר וואַגן
צו לאַכן, אוי, אַ סך ־־־
דעם וועל איך נאָך ווײַזן ווער בין איך!
כ'הייס ישׂראליק, כ'בין אַ קינד פֿון געטאָ.
כ'הייס ישׂראליק, אַ הפֿקרדיקער יונג.
כאָטש פֿאַרבליבן גאָלע נעטאָ,
דערלאַנג איך אַלץ נאָך ־־־
אַ סווישטשע און אַ זונג!
ניט מיינט מיך האָט געבאָרן
די הפֿקרדיקע גאַס,
בײַ טאַטע־מאַמע אויך געווען אַ קינד.
כ'האָב ביידע אָנגעוואָרן,
ניט מיינט עס איז אַ שפּאַס!
כ'בין געבליבן, ווי אין פֿעלד דער ווינט.
כ'הייס ישׂראליק,
נאָר ווען קיינער זעט ניט,
וויש איך שטיל פֿון אויג אַראָפּ אַ טרער.
נאָר פֿון מײַן טרויער
בעסער אַז מען רעדט ניט,
צו וואָס דערמאָנען און מאַכן ס'האַרץ זיך שווער?
נו קויפֿט־זשע סאַכאַרין!
געוואָרן איז הײַנט סחורה ביליק ווערט:
אַ לעבן פֿאַר אַ גראָשן,
אַ פּרוטה, אַ פֿאַרדינסט ־־־
פֿון געטאָ־הענדלער האָט איר דאָך געהערט.
כ'הייס ישׂראליק, כ'בין אַ קינד פֿון געטאָ.
כ'הייס ישׂראליק, אַ הפֿקרדיקער יונג.
כאָטש פֿאַרבליבן גאָלע נעטאָ,
דערלאַנג איך אַלץ נאָך ־־־
אַ סווישטשע און אַ זונג!
אַ מאַנטל אָן אַ קראַגן,
תּחתּונים פֿון אַ זאַק,
קאַלאָשן האָב איך ־־־ ס'פֿעלן נאָר די שיך.
און ווער עס וועט נאָר וואַגן
צו לאַכן, אוי, אַ סך ־־־
דעם וועל איך נאָך ווײַזן ווער בין איך!
כ'הייס ישׂראליק, כ'בין אַ קינד פֿון געטאָ.
כ'הייס ישׂראליק, אַ הפֿקרדיקער יונג.
כאָטש פֿאַרבליבן גאָלע נעטאָ,
דערלאַנג איך אַלץ נאָך ־־־
אַ סווישטשע און אַ זונג!
ניט מיינט מיך האָט געבאָרן
די הפֿקרדיקע גאַס,
בײַ טאַטע־מאַמע אויך געווען אַ קינד.
כ'האָב ביידע אָנגעוואָרן,
ניט מיינט עס איז אַ שפּאַס!
כ'בין געבליבן, ווי אין פֿעלד דער ווינט.
כ'הייס ישׂראליק,
נאָר ווען קיינער זעט ניט,
וויש איך שטיל פֿון אויג אַראָפּ אַ טרער.
נאָר פֿון מײַן טרויער
בעסער אַז מען רעדט ניט,
צו וואָס דערמאָנען און מאַכן ס'האַרץ זיך שווער?
envoyé par Riccardo Venturi - 29/5/2008 - 14:38
Langue: yiddish
La trascrizione in caratteri latini, da zemerl.com
Romanized lyrics, from zemerl.com
Romanized lyrics, from zemerl.com
La trascrizione è stata adattata in alcuni punti ai criteri generalmente seguiti in questo sito.
The transcription has been slightly adapted in a number of points according to the criteria generally used in this site.
The transcription has been slightly adapted in a number of points according to the criteria generally used in this site.
YISROLIK
Nu koyft-zhe papirosn,
nu koyft-zhe sakharin
Gevorn iz hant s'khoyre bilig vert:
A lebn far a groshn,
a prute - a fardinst ---
Fun geto-hendler, hot ir dokh gehert
Kh'kheys Yisrolik, ich bin dos kid fun geto
kh'kheys Yisrolik, a hefkerdiker yung
Khotsh farlibn gole neto
Derlang ikh alts nokh
a sviftsh un a zung!
A mantl on a kragn,
takhtoynim fun a zak
Kaloshn hob ikh, s'feln nor di shikh
Un ver es vet nor vagn
tsu lachn oy, a sakh
Dem vel ich nokh vayzen ver bin ikh
Kh'kheys Yisrolik, ich bin dos kid fun geto
Kh'kheys Yisrolik, a hefkerdiker yung
Khotsh farlibn gole neto
Der lang ich altst nokh
a sviftsh un a zung!
Nit meint mikh hot geborn
di hefkerdike gas
Bay tate-mame oych geven a kind
Kh'hob beydn on gevoyrn,
nit mayntes iz a shpas
Kh'bin geblibn vi in feld der vint
Kh'kheys Yisrolik,
nor ven keyner zet nit
Vish ich shtil zikh fun oyg arop a trer
Nor vun maynt troyer-
baser oz men redt nit
Tsu vos dermanen un makhn s'harts zikh shver?
Nu koyft-zhe papirosn,
nu koyft-zhe sakharin
Gevorn iz hant s'khoyre bilig vert:
A lebn far a groshn,
a prute - a fardinst ---
Fun geto-hendler, hot ir dokh gehert
Kh'kheys Yisrolik, ich bin dos kid fun geto
kh'kheys Yisrolik, a hefkerdiker yung
Khotsh farlibn gole neto
Derlang ikh alts nokh
a sviftsh un a zung!
A mantl on a kragn,
takhtoynim fun a zak
Kaloshn hob ikh, s'feln nor di shikh
Un ver es vet nor vagn
tsu lachn oy, a sakh
Dem vel ich nokh vayzen ver bin ikh
Kh'kheys Yisrolik, ich bin dos kid fun geto
Kh'kheys Yisrolik, a hefkerdiker yung
Khotsh farlibn gole neto
Der lang ich altst nokh
a sviftsh un a zung!
Nit meint mikh hot geborn
di hefkerdike gas
Bay tate-mame oych geven a kind
Kh'hob beydn on gevoyrn,
nit mayntes iz a shpas
Kh'bin geblibn vi in feld der vint
Kh'kheys Yisrolik,
nor ven keyner zet nit
Vish ich shtil zikh fun oyg arop a trer
Nor vun maynt troyer-
baser oz men redt nit
Tsu vos dermanen un makhn s'harts zikh shver?
envoyé par Riccardo Venturi - 29/5/2008 - 16:04
Langue: anglais
Traduzione inglese trovata ” Life in the Ghetto - The Personal Story of Gizella Abramson”
MY NAME IS YISROLIK
Hey, come and buy tobacco,
Come buy my saccharin,
These days the stuff is selling cheap as dirt.
A life for just a penny,
One cent is what I earn --
About the ghetto peddler you have heard?
My name is Yisrolik,
A kid right from the ghetto,
My name is Yisrolik,
A reckless kind of guy.
Though I'm left with less nothing,
Still a whistle and song is my reply!
A coat without a collar,
Underwear made from a sack,
I have galoshes -- haven't got the shoes.
Whoever finds this funny,
Whoever dares to laugh --
I'll show him I'm not one to abuse!
My name is Yisrolik,
A kid right from the ghetto,
My name is Yisrolik,
A reckless kind of guy.
Though I'm left with less nothing,
Still a whistle and song is my reply!
Don't think the gutter spawned me,
Don't think I have no claim --
A mother and a father loved me too.
Both were taken from me,
It's useless to complain,
But like the wind I'm lonely, it is true.
My name is Yisrolik,
And when no one is looking,
From my eyes
I wipe away a tear.
But this anguish --
Is not for speaking.
Why remember,
How much can one heart bear?
Hey, come and buy tobacco,
Come buy my saccharin,
These days the stuff is selling cheap as dirt.
A life for just a penny,
One cent is what I earn --
About the ghetto peddler you have heard?
My name is Yisrolik,
A kid right from the ghetto,
My name is Yisrolik,
A reckless kind of guy.
Though I'm left with less nothing,
Still a whistle and song is my reply!
A coat without a collar,
Underwear made from a sack,
I have galoshes -- haven't got the shoes.
Whoever finds this funny,
Whoever dares to laugh --
I'll show him I'm not one to abuse!
My name is Yisrolik,
A kid right from the ghetto,
My name is Yisrolik,
A reckless kind of guy.
Though I'm left with less nothing,
Still a whistle and song is my reply!
Don't think the gutter spawned me,
Don't think I have no claim --
A mother and a father loved me too.
Both were taken from me,
It's useless to complain,
But like the wind I'm lonely, it is true.
My name is Yisrolik,
And when no one is looking,
From my eyes
I wipe away a tear.
But this anguish --
Is not for speaking.
Why remember,
How much can one heart bear?
envoyé par Bartleby - 31/1/2011 - 10:56
Langue: anglais
MY NAME IS YISROLIK
Here, buy my cigarettes and buy my saccarin,
Merchandise is very cheap these days -
A life is worth e penny, and profit's but a penny,
These are the ghetto-businessmen, you know.
My name is Yisrolik, I'm the child of the ghetto,
I'm called Yisrolik, — a free and easy lad.
And although I'm "clean" and haven't got a thing -
I still can whistle and I still can sing!
My coat it has no collar and my trousers are for sacking,
I wear rubbers since I've lost my shoes.
But whoever dares to laugh at my appearance,
I'll show him a thing or two, you bet!
Now don't you think that I was born into a life of squalor,
I once was loved and raised my mother and father too,
But I lost them both and don't think that was funny -
And I was left alone just like the homeless wind that blows.
My name is Yisrolik, I'm the child of the ghetto,
I'm called Yisrolik, — a free and easy lad.
And although I'm "clean" and haven't got a thing -
I still can whistle and I still can sing!
I am called Yisrolik and when nobody's locking,
I wipe away my tears so silently,
But it is much better not to speak about my sorrow,
To mention it just makes my heart ache more.
Here, buy my cigarettes and buy my saccarin,
Merchandise is very cheap these days -
A life is worth e penny, and profit's but a penny,
These are the ghetto-businessmen, you know.
My name is Yisrolik, I'm the child of the ghetto,
I'm called Yisrolik, — a free and easy lad.
And although I'm "clean" and haven't got a thing -
I still can whistle and I still can sing!
My coat it has no collar and my trousers are for sacking,
I wear rubbers since I've lost my shoes.
But whoever dares to laugh at my appearance,
I'll show him a thing or two, you bet!
Now don't you think that I was born into a life of squalor,
I once was loved and raised my mother and father too,
But I lost them both and don't think that was funny -
And I was left alone just like the homeless wind that blows.
My name is Yisrolik, I'm the child of the ghetto,
I'm called Yisrolik, — a free and easy lad.
And although I'm "clean" and haven't got a thing -
I still can whistle and I still can sing!
I am called Yisrolik and when nobody's locking,
I wipe away my tears so silently,
But it is much better not to speak about my sorrow,
To mention it just makes my heart ache more.
envoyé par Bartleby - 31/1/2011 - 11:08
Langue: catalan
Free Translation into Catalan
EL MEU NOM ÉS YISROLIK
Ei, tabac! vine a comprar les meves cigarretes,
Sacarina! Vingueu a comprar la meva sacarina!,
En aquests dies les coses van ben barates.
Una vida per només un cèntim,
Un cèntim és el meu guany.
Aquests són els empresaris del ghetto, ja saps.
El meu nom és Yisrolik, sóc un noi legal del gueto,
Em diuen Yisrolik, un noi lliure i fàcil de dur.
I encara que estic "net" i no tinc res de res,
encara puc fer uns xiulits i encara puc cantar!
El meu abric no té coll i els pantalons són recosits d'un sac,
Em fic botes d’aigua perquè he perdut les meves sabates.
Però a tot el qui s'atreveix a riure’s de la meva pinta,
Jo li mostraré jo no comet abusos!
El meu nom és Yisrolik,
Un xic legal del gueto,
El meu nom és Yisrolik,
Un tipus de javaloies.
I encara que m’han deixat pelat,
un xiulit i cantar és la meva resposta!
No creguis pas que jo vaig néixer en la misèria,
Una mare i un pare em van criar i també em van estimar.
Tots dos se’ls van endur lluny de mi,
i és inútil queixar-se,
però he perdut tant i no crec que això tingui res de divertit:
em vaig quedar tot sol igual que el vent que bufa fora de la llar, és la veritat.
El meu nom és Yisrolik, sóc un al·lot del gueto,
Em dic Yisrolik, - un noi una mica destarifat.
I encara que estic "pelat" i no tinc res de res
Encara puc xiular i encara puc cantar!
El meu nom és Yisrolik,
I quan ningú no està mirant,
Des dels meus ulls ragen les llàgrimes silenciosament, I me les eixuc.
Però aquesta angoixa...
és molt millor no parlar del meu dolor,
Per què recordar,
quant pot suportar un cor que està a soles?
Ei, tabac! vine a comprar les meves cigarretes,
Sacarina! Vingueu a comprar la meva sacarina!,
En aquests dies les coses van ben barates.
Una vida per només un cèntim,
Un cèntim és el meu guany.
Aquests són els empresaris del ghetto, ja saps.
El meu nom és Yisrolik, sóc un noi legal del gueto,
Em diuen Yisrolik, un noi lliure i fàcil de dur.
I encara que estic "net" i no tinc res de res,
encara puc fer uns xiulits i encara puc cantar!
El meu abric no té coll i els pantalons són recosits d'un sac,
Em fic botes d’aigua perquè he perdut les meves sabates.
Però a tot el qui s'atreveix a riure’s de la meva pinta,
Jo li mostraré jo no comet abusos!
El meu nom és Yisrolik,
Un xic legal del gueto,
El meu nom és Yisrolik,
Un tipus de javaloies.
I encara que m’han deixat pelat,
un xiulit i cantar és la meva resposta!
No creguis pas que jo vaig néixer en la misèria,
Una mare i un pare em van criar i també em van estimar.
Tots dos se’ls van endur lluny de mi,
i és inútil queixar-se,
però he perdut tant i no crec que això tingui res de divertit:
em vaig quedar tot sol igual que el vent que bufa fora de la llar, és la veritat.
El meu nom és Yisrolik, sóc un al·lot del gueto,
Em dic Yisrolik, - un noi una mica destarifat.
I encara que estic "pelat" i no tinc res de res
Encara puc xiular i encara puc cantar!
El meu nom és Yisrolik,
I quan ningú no està mirant,
Des dels meus ulls ragen les llàgrimes silenciosament, I me les eixuc.
Però aquesta angoixa...
és molt millor no parlar del meu dolor,
Per què recordar,
quant pot suportar un cor que està a soles?
envoyé par Jan - 16/11/2014 - 17:44
Questa canzone di Leyb Rozental di Vilnius è sicuramente stata ispirata ad un brano precedente, “פּאַפּיראָסן” (Papirosn), di cui fu autore negli anni 20 Hermann Yablokoff (1903-1981), originario di Hrodna, oggi in Bielorussia, ed emigrato negli USA nel 1924. Personaggio molto noto nel teatro yiddish americano, alla fine della guerra Yablokoff fece molte tournée in Germania, Austria ed Italia per portare conforto ai rifugiati sopravvissuti alla Shoah.
Su di una melodia tradizionale bulgara.
Su di una melodia tradizionale bulgara.
Bernart Bartleby - 17/2/2014 - 15:07
×
[1942]
ווערטער: ל. ראָזנטאָל
מוזיק: מישאַ וועקסלער
Testo di Leyb Rozental [1916-1945]
Musica di Misha Veksler [1907-1943]
Lyrics by Leyb Rozental [1916-1945]
Music by Misha Veksler [1916-1943]
The Song. Among the thousands of children in the Vilna ghetto there were many who, as streetvenders, tried to get hold of scarce goods such as food and cigarettes. They risked their lives by leaving the ghettos to steal or to buy goods from gentiles. Many of those children did not survive the ghetto, during their trips they were either arrested or shot. Without the courage of these children whole families would have faced certain death due to the shortage of these necessities of life. "Yisrolik" was an eleven year-old boy who set-off on one such trip to take care of his family's welfare.
“Yisrolik” was first performed in January, 1942, by the lyricist’s sister, Khayele, who survived the war and emigrated to South Africa. The author of the music, Misha Veksler was also deported and killed at Ponar.
Leyb Rozental, nato nel 1916, era il figlio maggiore di una coltissima famiglia israelitica di Vilnius. I suoi genitori, Fruma e Nohum Rozental, e le sue due sorelle avevano ricevuto un'istruzione superiore e avevano talento artistico. La sorella minore, Khayele, era una brava cantante ed attrice, e raggiunse il successo proprio cantando le composizioni del fratello. Leyb stesso era un poeta: pubblicò la sua prima raccolta all'età di 14 anni. Nel ghetto di Vilnius divenne uno dei più celebri compositori di riviste musicali e teatrali. L'impressionante testo delle sue canzoni "Peshe fun Reshe" ("Peshe di Reshe") e "Moyshe halt zikh" ("Mosè resiste") gli valsero i favori del pubblico. Oltre alla sua produzione teatrale, Rozental scrisse molte canzoni a sé stanti, sia per la sorella che per altri cantanti del ghetto; per gli storici, tali canzoni aprono una preziosa finestra sulla realtà quotidiana del ghetto. Al momento della liquidazione finale del ghetto di Vilnius, nel 1943, Rozental fu deportato nel lager estone di Klooga (Dutmergen), dove morì nel 1945, probabilmente annegato nelle acque del Mar Baltico.
La canzone. Tra le migliaia di bambini che vivevano nel ghetto di Vilnius ce n'erano molti che lavoravano come venditori ambulanti, tentando di procurarsi beni mancanti come cibo e sigarette. Rischiavano la vita uscendo dal ghetto per rubare la merce ai non ebrei. Molti di questi bambini non sopravvivevano, dato che durante le loro sortite venivano arrestati o addirittura uccisi. Senza il coraggio di questi bambini, intere famiglie sarebbero perite data la penura di tali beni necessari. "Yisrolik" (diminutivo di "Yisrael") era un bambino di undici anni che usciva dal ghetto per provvedere ai bisogni della famiglia.
"Yisrolik" fu eseguita per la prima volta nel gennaio del 1942 da Khayele Rozental, che sopravvisse alla shoah e che poi emigrò in Sudafrica. L'autore della musica, Misha Veksler, fu pure deportato e ucciso a Ponar.