1. |
About the Sunset
03:22
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Vay, vi s’hot der himl zikh tsebrent!
Es brent di oygn.
Finkeldige pasmes zun,
Farbn, tsarte, vaykhe,
Hoifns blitn, berg mit blumen…
Volt der bos aher dergraykhn,
Volt er altz far zikh genumen
Un gemakht fun dem profitn…
Azoy fil frayd far mentshn’s oygn,
Es vekt di benkshaft oyf in khartsn
Vayst aleyn nit vos zolst garn.
Vifl gold un vifl zilber!
Khotsh mit lopetes tsu sharn.
Nisht tsum mestn, nisht stum tseyln,
S’volt genug zayn yedn eynem
[Ayntsutayln…]
Farbn roisn…
Kolirn kumen un fargayn.
Vi zey toishn zikh un miniyen,
Azsh es nemt der kop zikh dreyen.
Ot iz zeyd, un dortn veyt iz samet.
Far yedn hoiz a por gardinen.
Vi sheyn es volt gepast der mamen
A kleyd fun yenem zeyd dem grinem.
Zi neyt un neyt un neyt,
Un ken zikh nit
Keyn leytish kleyd farginen.
English Translation:
Oh, how the sky is in flame!
it dazzles the eyes.
Sparkling strips of sun,
delicate, tender colors,
mounds of blossoms, mountains of flowers.
If the boss came here,
he’d take it all, then somehow use it
like a good profiteer.
Such pleasure for the human eye,
it wakes the longing in my heart—
you don’t know, yourself, what you should crave.
How much gold and how much silver!
Or simply spades to scrape at what’s already there.
Measureless, countless,
there’d be enough to give everyone
to share…
Colors rush…
Colors come in and go out.
How they turn and change,
‘til your head spins about.
That’s silk, and satin over there.
A pair of drapes for every house.
How mother would look in
a dress of that green silk.
She sews and sews and sews
and can’t afford a decent dress.
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2. |
Un du Akerst
03:04
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Un du akerst un du zeyst,
Un du fiterst un du neyst.
Un du hamerst un du shpinst
Zog, mayn folk, vos du fardinst?
You plow the fields, and sow the grain,
mending all your clothes again;
after work, there’s still chores to do,
oh my dears, what’s left for you?
Kling-klang, kling-klang!
Klapt der hamer mit zayn gezang!
Kling-klang, kling-klang!
Tserayst di keytn fun shklafntsvang!
Vebst dayn vebshtul tog un nakht,
Grobst undz ayzn fun der shakht,
Brengst di shefe undz arayn,
Ful mit tvue un mit vayn.
Weave your loom both night & day
And dig the iron from the clay;
the grain and wine we harvest dear,
abundance throughout the year.
Nor vu iz dayn tish gegreyt?
Nor vu iz dayn yomtev-kleyd?
Nor vu iz dayn sharfe shverd?
Velkhes glik iz dir bashert?
So where is your table set?
And where is your best outfit?
And where is your sharpened sword?
Bashert! What joy is yours?
We make these treasures but not to keep;
Instead we wear these chains and weap.
Shafst undz oytsres on a shiyer,
Altsding - nor nit far dir;
Un far zikh hostu in noyt
Nor geshmidt a shvere keyt…
Kling-klang, kling-klang!
Klapt der hamer mit zayn gezang!
Kling-klang, kling-klang!
Tserayst di keytn fun shklafntsvang!
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3. |
Anthem
05:23
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klingt di gleker vos kenen nokh klingen
es makht nisht oys ken shleymes
faran a shpalt, in altsding a shpeltl
azoy dringt arayn di likht
The birds they sang at the break of day,
Start again I heard them say
Don't dwell on what has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Yeah the wars they will be fought again
The holy dove she will be caught again
Bought and sold and bought again
the dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack, in everything
That's how the light gets in.
We work the fields, and mend your clothes
care for your children, we build your homes
but the government leaves us exposed
to all the elements.
I can't run no more with that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places say their prayers out loud
But they've summoned, they've summoned up a thundercloud
And they're going to hear from me
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack, in everything
That's how the light gets in.
You can add up the parts, you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march, there is no drum
Every heart, every heart to love will come
But like a refugee
Man fun arbet oyfgevakht,
Un derken dayn groyse makht,
Ven dayn shtarker orem vil,
Blaybn ale reder shtil.
Working folks, arise today
and recognize our collective strength
our arms are strong, and with them we
can shut down this factory.
klingt di gleker vos kenen nokh klingen
es makht nisht oys ken shleymes
faran a shpalt, in altsding a shpeltl
azoy dringt arayn di likht
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack, in everything
That's how the light gets in.
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4. |
Rumenye iz Amerike
05:06
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Ekh! Rumenye, Rumenye, Rumenye...
Geven a mol a land a zise, a sheyne.
Ekh! Rumenye, Rumenye, Rumenye...
Geven a mol a land a zise, a fayne.
Dort tsu voynen iz a fargenign;
Vos dos harts glust dort kenstu krign:
A mamaligele, a pastramele, a karnatsele,
Un a glezele vayn!
Ay, in Rumenye iz dokh gut
Fun keyn dayges veyst men nit
Vayn trinkt men iberal-
M’farbayst mit kashtaval.
Hay, digadi dam...
Oy, gevald, ikh ver meshige!
Ikh lib nor brinze, mamalige;
(Ikh) tants un frey zikh biz der steyle
Ven ikh es a patlazhele
Zets, ay yidl di tam…
Ay, s’iz a mekhaye, beser ken nit zayn!
Ay, a fargenign iz nor Romeynish vayn.
Ekh! Amerike, Amerike, Amerike...
Geven a mol a land a zise, a sheyne.
Ekh! Amerike, Amerike, Amerike...
Geven a mol a land a zise, a fayne.
A shtetl iz amerike
A mekhaye, khlebn;
Es rut oyf ir di shkhinele,
Mir zoln azoy lebn
Mir zoln azoy lebn-
Un a glezele vayn!
Milkhomes, mentshin-blut
Darfn mir oyf tsores,
A gubernator darf men nit,
A keyser oyf kapores
Hay digadi dam...
Es iz tsu mir gekumen a kuzine
Sheyn vi gold iz zi geven, di grine,
Di bekelekh vi royte pomerantsn
Fiselekh vos betn zikh tsum tantsn.
Zets, ay yidl di tam…
Ay, s’iz a mekhaye, beser ken nit zayn!
Ay, a fargenign iz nor Californish vayn.
So this is the part where your
Green Cousin is fresh off the boat
She's cute! Her cheeks are rosey,
she's ready to dance...she's expecting
streets paved with gold. But soon
she's not doing so hot...she's starving
paycheck to paycheck, 'cuz what has she found?
But settler colonialism & capitalism!
Zets, ay yidl di tam… Zim-bam! ta tittle di tam…
Ay, s’iz a mekhaye, beser ken nit zayn!
Ay, a fargenign iz nor Californish vayn.
O, America, America, America...
America never was America
O, America, America, America...
Who said this was the “homeland of the free”?
The millions on relief today?
Millions shot down when we strike?
Millions with nothing-for our pay?
The dream that’s almost dead today.
Hay digadi dam...
O, let America, America, America be America
The land that never yet has been
O, let America, America, America be America
A land where everyone is free.
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5. |
Bella Ciao
03:55
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Yiddish:
In zun baloykhtn, a hel frimorgn
Bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
In zun baloykhtn, a hel frimorgn
Der soyne shteyt shoyn bay der tir
Oy partisaner, mit dir tsuzamen
Bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
Oy partisaner, mit dir tsuzamen
Ikh vil nisht faln do aleyn
Oy partisaner, oyb ikh vel faln
Bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
Oy partisaner, oyb ikh vel faln
Muzt mikh leygn in der erd
Baym barg dem sheynem, leyg mir in keyver
Bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
Baym barg dem sheynem, leyg mir in keyver
In shotn fun di shenste blum
Az vest farbaygeyn, mayn shtiln keyver
Bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
Az vest farbaygeyn, mayn shtiln keyver
Ver farkisheft in der blum
Dos is dos bliml, fun partisaner
Bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
Dos is dos bliml, fun partisaner
toyt far frayheyt un far dir
Italian:
Una mattina mi son svegliato
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,
una mattina mi son svegliato
e ho trovato l’invasor.
O partigiano, portami via,
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,
o partigiano, portami via
che mi sento di morir.
E se io muoio da partigiano
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,
e se io muoio da partigiano
tu mi devi seppellir.
E seppellire lassù in montagna,
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,
e seppellire lassù in montagna
sotto l’ombra di un bel fior.
Tutte le genti che passeranno,
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,
tutte le genti che passeranno
mi diranno: «Che bel fior!»
E questo è il fiore del partigiano
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,
e questo è il fiore del partigiano
morto per la libertà.
E questo è il fiore del partigiano
morto per la libertà.
English:
In the brightness of the morning sun
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,
In the brightness of the morning sun
The enemy was already at my door
O partisan, let’s stick together
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,
o partisan, let’s stick together
I don’t want to die here alone
And if I die as a partisan
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,
and if I die as a partisan
please lay me in the ground.
If you should lay me in my grave
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,
If you should lay me in my grave
It should be shaded by a beautiful flower.
And people will pass by my quiet grave
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,
And people will pass by my quiet grave
enchanted by this flower.
This is the flower of the partisan
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,
this is the flower of the partisan
Who died for all of our freedom.
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Brivele Seattle, Washington
A discontented punky-klezy trio of Yiddishists.
Brivele
is:
Stefanie Brendler (accordion, vox, glockenspiel, slide whistle)
Maia Brown (banjo, vox)
Hannah Hamavid (violin, ukulele, vox)
... more
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