Zareby Koscliene
Zaromb, My Shtstl
by Sheva Katisher
In your little twisted streets
Old houses, tiny lamps
The brown scourge has extinguished them
Turned off your last glance and expression.
There where I was born
There, Zaromb, my little Shtetl, I've lost my joy in you,
Who can measure the depth of the wound?
My heart is full of you,
Of the children's noise in our house,
Father's melody of "Shir Hashirim", Mother's voice, Our loneliness can be heud there.
Like fire spread by the wind, Fallen stars,
Born of your seed,
They rise through bloody paths.
In the depths, far, far away,
your holy image in heavy sorrow,
Sowed your heart and soul.
In my heart I light eternal candles.
Drops fall from candle upon candle,
with generations of "Kadish" year after year,
Among people I gave honor to your importance,
"Not forgotten, not forgiven", my Kadish in your imrmry, Zaromb.
Zaromb, my shtetl,
With you, in my early dawn,
In your warm lap
Is where I found my earliest joy.
In the early dawn,
I heard your first prayer,
You rocked me to sleep with your lullaby,
With a quiet, childhood joy.