Poet: Esther Shumiatcher-Hirshbein (1899–1980)
A small blade of grass crawls out from the earth—
Sleep, sleep my little one,
Lullaby my child.
To your crib,
Where you lie without swaddling,
Sheep and cattle come,
Lullaby my child.
The house is still without a roof,
Sleep then under the thatch,
Lullaby my child.
You will always be a wanderer,
You and I and others,
Lullaby my child.
Your father is in the field,
Father threshing with the oxen.
Lullaby my child.
The pea is happy in its pod;
From the field we will gain bread.
Lullaby my child.
Grow, my child, to adulthood,
The field awaits you.
Lullaby my child.
Poet: Esther Shumiatcher-Hirshbein (1899–1980)
s’krikht fun d’rerd a grezele
shlofzshe, shlof mayn hezele.
lyulinke, mayn kind.
tsu dayn vig on vindelekh
kumen shof un rindelekh.
lyulinke, mayn kind.
shtub iz nokh on dekhele
shlofzshe untern strekhele.
lyulinke, mayn kind.
du bist an iber vanderer,
du un ikh un andere.
lyulinke, mayn kind.
dayn tate iz in feld faran;
der tate mitn oksnshpan.
lyulinke, mayn kind
kvelt der bob in shoytele;
in feld geyt uf a broytele.
lyulinke, mayn kind.
vaks, mayn kind, a groyser oys,
es kukt af dir dos feld aroys.
lyulinke, mayn kind.
