The Chronicle Of Hershele’s Death lyrics

Just last week: Hershele!

I was so happy to see you

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken

I am sick and swollen …”

Two days later

I recieved a note from him

“I’m lying sick

On my bed”.

“The doctors insist

you must eat, just eat…”

that prescription is something

I’ll never forget!

“If Applebaum sent

some good stuff from his kitchen

for a few days for me

just for a few meals”

But Applebaum is unable

to do it!

The overseer would not

allow such things…

“If Giterman you know,

from the Joint…go over –

and say “I’m dying,

go to him, talk it over…”

“Giterman! – waiting

a day there is endless

and I’d not win him over…

and I did not go!”

Two days later

Warsaw was buzzing:

the poet Hershele

has died of hunger.

Right after he died –

someone told me

his swelling dissappeared

and bones came out.

The funeral was held

three days later

He was lucky –

the weather was lovely…

Come Hershele, Hershele,

come out of the casket,

in weather so fine

it pays to fast…

He never came out

and was not seen again;

he left behind

one thousand poems.

Hershele’s little boy

said the kaddish –

new little tears –

May you (be) renewed!

They fell

on to the open prayer book –

clear pearls

from the thousand poems.

His little sister doesn’t cry

she stands forlorn –

To whom Hershele

did you leave:

a thousand songs,

a wife and two children

and over the cemetary

this beautiful day?