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This song was written in the Vilna ghetto, words by Abraham Sutskever (1913-2010); music by Abraham Brudno (?-1944). It was first presented in the ghetto theater in the play ” Di Yogenish in Fas” (the hunt in the barrel, a pun on Diogenes in a barrel.) It was first sung by Zlate Katcherginsky. After the liquidation of the ghetto, Sutzkever joined the partisan fighters. He survived the war and lived in Israel where he edited the literary quarterly “Di Goldene Keyt”. Sutzkever died January, 20, 2010 The composer, Avrom Brudno, following the liquidation of the Vilna ghetto, was deported to a German concentration camp in Estonia, where he died. YW

Yiddish:

Unter dayne vayse shtern
Shtrek tsu mir dayn vayse hant.
Mayne verter zaynen trern
Viln ruen in dayn hant.
Ze, es tunklt zeyer finkl
In mayn kelerdikn blik.
Un ikh hob gornit keyn vinkl
Zey tsu shenken dir tsurik.

Un ikh vil dokh, got getrayer,
Dir fartroyen mayn farmeg.
Vayl es mont in mir a fayer
Un in fayer – mayne teg.
Nor in kelern un lekher
Veynt di merderishe ru.
Loyf ikh hekher, iber dekher
Un ikh zukh: vu bistu, vu?

Nemen yogn mikh meshune
Trep un hoyfin mit gevoy.
Heng ikh – a geplaste strune
Un ikh zing tsu dir azoy:

Unter dayne vayse shtern
Shtrek tsu mir dayn vayse hant.
Mayne verter zaynen trern
Viln ruen in dayn hant.

Under Your Starry Heaven

Under your white starry heaven
Offer me your pale white hand.
All my words are flowing teardrops,
I would place them in your hand.
Gone the luster from their brightness,
Seen through morbid cellar view –
And I no longer have my own space
To reflect them back to you.

My devoted God I offer
Everything that I possess,
As the fire that I suffer
Fills each fiery day I pass.
Only in the holes and cellars
With deadly rest my days I share.
I run higher – over spire
Searching where are you, oh where?

I am chased by phantom beings
Stairs and courtyards goad me too.
There I hang a broken bowstring –
And I sing once more to you:
Under your white starry heaven
Offer me your pale white hand.
All my words are flowing teardrops,
I would place them in your hand.

English (singable translation by Roslyn Bresnick-Perry)

English (literal translation)

Under Your white stars
Stretch to me Your white hand.
My words are tears,
Wanting to rest in Your hand.
See, they twinkle very darkly
In my cellar-beaten view;
And I have no place
How to send them back to You.

And I will, dear God,
Confide in you these of mine
While in me a fire grows
And on fire are my days.
But in cellars and holes
Cries the murderous quiet
I fly higher, over rooftops
And I search: Where are You? Where?

Something strange hunts me
Stairs and courtyards are on chase
I hang as a broken bow-string
And I sing to You this way:
Under Your white stars
Stretch to me Your white hand.
My words are tears,
Wanting to rest in Your hand.