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Dos fertsnte yor

Artist: Folklore
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First posted by: yidlid.org

Transliteration

Dos fertsnte yor iz ongekumen, oy vey Dos fertsnte yor iz ongekumen In zapas hot men mikh genumen, oy vey In zapas hot men mikh genumen, oy vey oy vey In di karpatn zaynen mir gezesn Broyt mit vaser hobn mir gegesn Oyf di felder, grine velder Dortn ligt a gehargeter zelner Un zayn kerper iz tserisn Un dos blut tut fun im flisn Dort ligt a zelner on a tsure On a kastn un on a kvure Nit keyn orn, nit keyn mite Nit keyn foter un nit keyn muter Kumt a foygl on tsu flien Oyf zayn keyver optsuruen Oy, du foygl, shvartse vrone Na dir di hent un loz op di oygn Oy, du foygl, fli geshvind Un zog der mamen, ikh bin gezunt Fun dem toyt zolstu ir nit zogn Vayl zi vet nebekh veynen un klogn Kumt der foygl tsu flien aheym Un treft mayn mamen troyerik shteyn — Vos zhe veynstu, getraye muter Im iz fintster un dir iz biter — Vi azoy zol ikh nit veynen un klogn Az me hot mayn kind geton faryogn Ikh bin geblibn an almone, un tsu dertsu nokh blind M'hot fartribn mayn eyn un eyntsik kind — Ven di zamd vet tserunen vern Denstmolt vet zikh tsu dir dayn kind umkern — Un di zamd iz shoyn antrunen Un mayn kind vet aheym nit kumen On a kastn, on a mite On a foter un on a muter Ver vet im a likht nokhtrogn Ver vet nokh im kadish zogn Nor dos ferdl dos getraye Hot baleyt im tsu der levaye

Translation

The year fourteen has come, oy vey The year fourteen has come As a reservist I was called back, oy vey As a reservist I was called back, oy vey oy vey In the Carpathian mountains we were stationed We ate bread and water On the fields, the green forests There lies a killed soldier And his body is teared apart And the blood is flowing from him There lies a soldier without a face Without a coffin, without a burial No coffin, no casket No father and no mother A bird comes flying To rest on his grave Oh, you, bird, black crow Take the hands and leave the eyes Oh, you bird, fly quickly And tell my mother I'm fine Don't tell her about my death It would make her cry and complain The bird comes home flying And finds my mother in deep sadness — Why do you cry, faithful mother To him darkness, to you bitterness — How could I not cry and complain As my child was driven away I'm a widow, and besides, blind And my one and only son was driven away — When the sand will be gone Then will you son come back to you — And the sand is gone already And my son will not come back home Without a coffin, without a casket Without a father and without a mother Who will for him carry a light Who will for him say the Kaddish Only his faithful horse Accompanied him to his funeral