Translated by Laine Zisman Newman*

Translator Note: Before reading the translations, I suggest listening to Zisman’s work in his own words, here.

The melody and rhythm of his poems, as they shift musically between poetry and song drive the words’ meaning and affective delivery. Translations are tricky. I have attempted to reflect Zisman’s intention in tone and rhythm, but did not in all instances maintain his rhyming scheme. The translation opts to follow his intention over precise word for word translation. Much is inherently lost in translation. So, listen to his Yiddish words (even if you do not understand them) and then return to try to navigate their meaning.

Aktzia…

Litzmannstadt Ghetto, 1943

In a small house on Mianowskiego street.
When it rains, inside the house its wet.
Hungry, without anything to eat, Mother lies sick in her bed.
Driven into the ghettos, and we live on a diet of 25 loaves of bread.

War with the Jews is their target of attack
This is your symbol, your yellow patch

Ghetto Dark is the Night: Ghetto What have you made of us?
Always pain, constant dread. When will this come to an end?

In the streets today, a yontif spirit fills the air.
In the home, a white table cloth is spread, but it is not a familiar feeling of joy.
By the candle lighting, my mother cries
And she says to me: Son of mine, do you know what day this is?
The eve of Yom Kippur, you must go pray.
I leave home, stop in my tracks, where should I go?
For what? To praise the God who has allowed this?

A glorious September night. The full moon shining its white light.
I stand there, still, and think. Here, familiar faces pass by in the street
Here, one father, one old man, bless me
Here, Jews wrapped in prayer shawls ahead
Here, graves full of Jewish dead.

I hear the trembling quiet call: Kol Nidre

The sufferings of the Spanish Inquisition,
The sufferings of our great-grandfathers! Now is this 20th century world, so great?
Isn’t this cruelty so much more filled with hate.

This picture stands out in my mind: two weeks ago,
I am crazy wild: My blood starts to boil,
I see women with children run,
rushing passed, faster, fast.

“What street is going today? Tell me, young man”
a woman with a child at her breast weeps.

The roads surrounded with Jewish police, soldiers
armed with guns in all the streets: and they are being led into the field.
Sorting all of the people into rows.

And then the lieutenant appears, with the white gloves
with a stick in his hand and with whom the fate
of thousands of people lie. He goes and counts: One, two …

Live free. Die free. I see, a woman fall to his feet
She begs: Officer, Don’t take my child.
Better to shoot me. The lieutenant, he laugh, with the white gloves,
with whom lies the fate of thousands of people,
He shouts: “Get rid of this shit!”

In the train, they are sealed, the Jews are taken
In the train, the air is suffocating
People try to go out, for a little water.
A mother says goodbye to her child: cradles him in a long kiss
and now, on goes the train.

Noisy wheels cracking, and everyone is asking “where are we?”
At last, the third day, the train slows
Finally, the train comes to a stop. They run to the windows,
bolted shut and now people are thinking:
Where are we? Where are we? Treblinka? Treblinka!
Treblinka, is a good place for every Jew, for all who stop here,
remain here forever.

A young officer opens the door
“Sir,” everyone cries out, “Water! Water!”
“Where are we? What will you do to us?”
He laughs, motions with his hand:
You are in the Fatherland.

And again, the people are placed in five groups
And again the lieutenant appears, with a stick in his hand
with the white gloves, and with whom the fate of thousands of people lie.
He goes and counts: 46, 47, 48. First group: five minutes to go
Stretch and get bathed. Everybody gets a little piece of soap
with the words: to wash your body.
People go in to wash, and they think to themselves, here we enter
But from where do we leave? And from the gas, people immediately
Become stiff and soon the howls grow great: “Shema Israel!”

In the Office. “Captain, I announce, obediently,
Our success: 20,000 Jews were killed today.”
Good Max! Please sit down and have a drink.
And so goes the train with pain and fear.
Another transport: fresh goods here!

Oh but, big world. Civilization, how long we have wept!
“Will it be this way for us forever?”
Now, asks the Jew that remains
Though he may be exhausted and he may be drained
It will not go so smoothly, what you do
We will have our reckoning with you.
And when the war does come to its end,
On you, we will take out our revenge!

 

*With special thanks to Miriam Borden, Rabbi Shmuel Braun, and Shifra Zisman for their patient and detailed assitance in translating this work.