PAPIROSN (Cigarettes); Yiddish words by HermanYablokoff (tune, trad. Bulgarian).
This song tells the tale of an orphaned cigarette peddler freezing in the rain on a street corner. Papirosn long ago entered the folk tradition, with several variants. One is the doina or lament in Rumanian-Yiddish style; another is a rollicking dance-band version in Klezmer style.
Video - Zully Goldfarb .
Klezmer Gourmets playing papirosen.
Drawing by ALEXANDER VAISMAN
Sung by Stewart Hendrickson
A kalte nakht, a nebldike finster umetum
Sheyt a yingele fartroiert un kukt zikh arum
Fun regn shtist im hor a vant,
A koshikl trogt er in hant,
Un zayne oygn betn yedn shtum
Ikh hob shoyn nit keyn koyekh mer
Arumtsugeyn in gaz, hungerig un
Opgerizn fun dem regn naz.
Ikh shlep arum zikh fun baginen,
Keyner git nisht tsu fardinen,
Ale lakhn, makhn fun mir shpaz.
Chorus: Kupitye koyft zhe, koyft zhe papirosn,
Trukene fun regn nisht fargozn.
Koyft she bilik benemones,
Koyft un hot oyf mir rakhmones,
Ratevet fun hunger mikh atsind..
Kupitye koyft she shvebelakh antikn,
Dermit verd ir a yosiml derkvikn.
Umzizt mayn shrayen un mayn loyfn,
Keyner vil bay mir nit koyfn,
Oysgeyn vel ikh muzn vi a hunt.
Mayn tate in milkhome hot farloyrn zayne hent,
Mayn mame hot di tsores mer oyshaltn nisht
gekent.
Yung in keyver zi getribn, bin ikh oyf der velt farblibn,
Ungliklekh un elnt vi a shteyn.
Breklekh klayb ikh oyf tsum ezn
oyf dem kaltn mark,
A harte bank iz mayn geleger in dem kaltn park.
In dertsu di politziantn, shlog mikh shvern kantn,
Z'helft nit mayn betn, mayn geveyn.
Ikh hob gehat a shvesterl, a kind fun der natur,
Mit mir tsusamen zikh geshlept hot zi a gants yor.
Mit ir geven iz mir fil gringer, laykhter vern flegt
Der hunger, ven ikh fleg a kuk ton nor oyf ir.
Mit amol gevorn iz zi shvakh un zeyer krank,
Oyf mayne hent iz zi geshtorbn oyf a gazn-bank.
Un az ikh hob zi farloyrn, hob ikh alts ongevoyrn,
Zol der toyt shoyn kumen oykh tsu mir.
A cold night, foggy, darkness everywhere
A boy stands sadly and looks around.
Only a wall protects him from the rain
He holds a basket in his hand
and his eyes beg everyone silently:
I don't have any strength left to walk the streets
Hungry and ragged, wet from the rain,
I shlep around from dawn.
Nobody gives me any earnings,
Everyone laughs and makes fun of me
Chorus: Please, Buy my cigarettes!
Dry ones, not wet from the rain
Buy real cheap,
Buy and have pity on me.
Save me from hunger now
Buy my matches, wonderful ones, the best,
And with that you will uplift an orphan.
My screaming and my running will be for naught
Nobody wants to buy from me
I will have to perish like a dog.
My father lost his hands in the war
My mother couldn't bear her troubles anymore
And was driven to her grave at a young age
I was left on this earth unhappy and alone like a stone
I gather crumbs to eat in the old market
A hard bench in the cold park is my bed
And on top of that, the police
Beat me with the edges of their swords and sticks
My pleas and my cries are of no use.
I had a little sister, a child of nature
Together we shlepped around for an entire year.
When with her, it was much easier for me.
My hunger would become lighter when I glanced at her
Suddenly she became weak and sick
Died in my arms on a street bench
And when I lost her I lost everything
Let death come already for me, too.