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I walked solitary on my way
And reveled alone in my holiday,
Drunken from the wine of my illusions,
From the luster of my delusions;
I created blinding suns
From every shining dew drop,
I fashioned…
He read my songs of sorrow and mourning . . .
Has one Poet wreaked against his People
If I erred through licentious ways,
If I erred, vain and unfaithful?
Thus mourns my song. No word of comfort…
Laboring women, suffering women
Women who languish in factory and home—
Why stand at a distance, why build not our temple
Of humanity’s joy, and of freedom sublime?
Help us to bear the red banner…
With this number, Di yugend passes into new hands—the hands of its writers.
It is no secret that Yiddish writers, especially young Yiddish writers—and most of the contributors to this monthly journal…
But Heinrich Heine—even the aesthetes who are rescuing his immortality in an island publishing house (these gloriously impractical minds whose cerebral wrinkles trail away into ornament) have nothing…
The purpose of this work is to acquaint the Yiddish reader with the theory, structure, and various forms of belletristic literature in general and Yiddish literature in particular.The need for…
My most pious songs have I written
On rising from my sinful bed.
God has given me a wealth of sins,
And God alone has saved me from my sins.
Translated by David Soeterndorp.
Then Israel sang this song:
Spring up, O well—sing to it—
The well which the chieftains dug,
Which the nobles of the people started
With maces, with their own staffs.
Here is a song that I created,
well composed and uncomplicated;
you can call it a song or call it a dirge.
I’d like to tell you some of my troubles:
some men have problems by…
I adapted the above psalm to my situation, for the blessed Lord freed me from the Inquisition—although broken, I was released and free—where I saw eleven seeming penitents burned to death for heresy…