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(The songs)
It frightens us so,
With our poor wares to go
And face the wide world and its scorn.
We have lived many days,
But know only the ways.
Of the villages where we were born.
(The author)
Yo…
So let’s drink whisky, brothers—
let’s hope we live to drink again.
Let’s drink now—enough of eating.
How can you forget about whisky for so long!
If we didn’t have whisky,
how would we live in this…
Once upon a time, a very long time ago, there lived a poor Jewish family in a small Lithuanian village. The oldest son, Borukh, had to go to the forest every day to gather dry twigs for…
Now in that same shtetl there lived a youth named Shimen, but he was nicknamed Simkhe (joy, celebration) and Plakhte (coarse cloth) because he was barefoot and almost naked and that was all he wore…
“Hey, hey, out of my way!” shouted a driver from the seat of his coach as he nearly ran into two women standing in the middle of the busiest street in Glupsk, both carrying…
A whole world of railways appeared in our time
They carry their passengers—poor men and rich.
Admire the wonder, but bear this in mind:
It’s really a parable, meant just for you.
It is we who are…
As for me, I was born in Tsviatshits and my name is Mendele the Book Peddler. Most of the year I’m on the road, travelling from one place to another, so people know me everywhere. I ride all over…
A calm summer night. On the horizon loom, very black, the famous woods on the tree trunks of which our ancestors are said to have carved a record of the tractates of the Talmud they had…