My mother used to sing me to sleep with the Partisan Song.  It always made her cry because it would remind her of her favorite sister – a partisan – who was killed on June 24, 1944.  Hirsch Glick, who wrote this song, was also killed around the same time.  To hear it sung in Yiddish behind the gun of a tank reminds me of why I came to Israel in the first place.  

 

Here’s a draft of my translation of it:

Never say you’re going the final way,

Although grey skies hide the blue days;

For our longed-for hour will come –

And our feet will sound the drum – we are here!

 

From green palm land to distant lands of snow,

We move forward with our pain, with our woe,

And where a shower of our blood has fallen,

There our bravery and courage will grow.

 

It is the morning sun that accompanies us today,

And the enemy will disappear with the yesterday,

Only when the sun gathers at the dawn –

Generation to generation will transmit this song.

 

This poem is written in blood and not with lead,

It is no ditty of a bird passing by,

This song of a nation between falling walls

Is sung with grenades in their hands.

 

So never say you’re going the final way,

Although grey skies hide the blue days;

For our longed-for hour will come –

And our feet will sound the drum – we are here!

 

Partisaner lid

Zog nit keyn mol az du geyst dem letsn veg,
Khotsh himlen blayene farshteln bloye teg;
Kumen vet nokh undzer oysgebenkte sho,
S’vet a poyk ton undzer trot – mir zenen do!

Fun grinem palmen-land biz vaytn land fun shney,
Mir kumen on mit undzer payn, mit undzer vey,
Un vu gefaln s’iz a shprots fun undzer blut,
Shprotsn vet dort undzer gvure undzer mut.

S’vet di morgn-zun bagildn undz dem haynt,
Un der nekhtn vet farshvindn mitn faynt,
Nor oyb farzamen vet di zun un der kayor-
Vi a parol zol geyn dos lid fun dor tsu dor.

Dos lid geshribn iz mit blut un nit mit blay,
S’iz nit keyn lidl fun a foygl af der fray,
Dos hot a folk tsvishn falndike vent
Dos lid gezungen mit naganes in di hent.