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КЕЭ, том 1+Доп.2, кол.
136–137+63 |
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A Sick
Tailor |
der
kranker shnayder |
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Semen Ansky |
The room is small and old
Rubbish in every corner
It's dark, lonely and cold
A sick tailor sits and sews
The tailor sews,
His needle goes, his head spins,
His need is great
There is no bread.
His face is pale and anxious
His needle goes day and night
From time to time, a racking cough
Tearing out of his chest stops his hand
The room is lonely and drab
From the corridor a sigh, from the bed a cough
A little lamp burns weakly
Rain falls on the roof
"What are you doing, tailor, in the world?"
"Just living." A terrible cold
Grips the heart. Oh, fearful want!
If this is living, what is death? |
di
shtub iz kleyn, di shtub iz alt,
in yedn vinkl mist un koyt.
s'iz fintzter umetik un kalt, -
a kranker shnayder zitzt un neyt.
der shnayder neyt, di nodl geyt,
der moyekh dreyt, s'iz groys di noyt.
nito in shtub keyn broyt,
nito in shtub keyn broyt.
der ponim gel, fartzogt, fartrakht,
di nodl rudert tog un nakht.
fun tzayt tzu tzayt, a puster hust,
halt oyf di hant, rayst oyf di burst.
in shtub iz umetik un pust
fun bet a ziftz, fun vig a hust
a kleyner lempl brent zikh shvakh
a drobner regn klapt in dakh
vos tustu, shnayder, oyf der velt?
ikh leb. A shoyderlike kelt
nemt on baym hartz, varflukhte noyt!
as dos heyst lebn, vos is toyt? |
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