ידיש

A deeply moving yet incredibly sweet song I recently fell in love with. Chava Alberstein arranged the verses polish poet Binem Heller wrote in yiddish, to remember his little sister Khaye. Martin custom HD-28VS (adirondack/madagascar) and some harmonica.


Mayn shvester Khaye 

Mayn shvester Khaye mit di grine oygn,
mayn shevster Khaye mit di shvartse tsep,
di shevester Khaye vos hot mikh dertsoygn,
oyf smotshe-gas in hoyz mit krume trep.

Di mame iz avek fun shtub baginen,
venoyfn himl hot ersht koym gehelt.
Zi iz avek in krom arayn fardinen,
dos bidne-drobne groshedike gelt.

Un Khaye iz geblibn mit di brider,
un zi hot zey gekormet un gehit,
un zi flegt zingen zey di sheyne lider,
far nakht ven klyne kinder vern mid.

Mayn shevester Khaye mit di grine oygn,
mayne shevster Khaye mit di longe hor,
dis shevster Khaye vos hot mikh dertsoygn,
iz nokh nisht alt geven keyn tsending yor.

Zi hot geroymt, gekokht, derlangt dos esn,
zihot getsvogn undz di kleyne kep,
nor shpiln zikh mit undz hot zi fargesn,
di shevster Khaye mit di shvartse tsep.

Mayn shvester Khaye mit di oygn grine,
a daytsh hot in Treblinke zi farbrent.
un ikh bin in der yidishe medine
der same letster, vos hot zi gekent.

Far ir shrayb ikh oyf yidish mayne lider
in teg di shreklekhe fun undzer tsayt.
bay got aleyn iz zi a bas-yekhide
in himl zitst zi bay zayn rekhter zayt.

Far ir shrayb ikh oyf yidish mayne lider
in teg di shreklekhe fun undzer tsayt.
bay got aleyn iz zi a bas-yekhide
in himl zitst zi bay zayn rekhter zayt.

Ahhh-Ahh

My sister Khaye 

My sister Khaye, her eyes were green
My sister Khaye, her braids were black
Sister Khaye, it was she who raised me
In the house on Smotshe Street with tumble down steps.

Mother left the house at dawn
When there was hardly light in the sky.
She went off to the shop, to earn
A wretched penny's worth of change.

And Khaye stayed with the boys,
She fed them and watched over them.
And at night, when little kids get tired,
She'd sing them pretty songs.

My sister Khaye, her eyes were green
My sister Khaye, her hair was long
Sister Khaye, it was she who raised me
She wasn't even ten years old.

She cleaned and cooked and served the food,
She washed our little heads
All she forgot was to play with us
Sister Khaye, her braids were black.

My sister Khaye with her eyes of green
Was burnt by a German in Treblinka.
And I am, in the Jewish world,
The very last one who ever knew her.

It's for her that I write my poems in Yiddish
In these terrible days of our times.
To God Himself she's an only daughter,
She sits in heaven at His right hand.

It's for her that I write my poems in Yiddish
In these terrible days of our times.
To God Himself she's an only daughter,
She sits in heaven at His right hand.

Mayn shvester Khaye

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