דיא חנוכה ליכט | Ḥanukkah⸗Lichter | Ḥanukkah Lights, a poem by Morris Rosenfeld (1897)

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Aharon N. Varady (editing/transcription), Helena Frank (translation), Rose Pastor Stokes (translation), Berthold Feiwel (translation) and Morris Rosenfeld

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30 November 2021 under the Creative Commons Zero (CC 0) Universal license a Public Domain dedication

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Ḥanukkah

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19th century C.E., 57th century A.M., Yiddish songs

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Source (Yiddish)	1902 Translation, Berthold Feiwel (German)	1914 Translation, Rose P. Stokes & Helena Frank (English)	1921 Translation, Helena Frank (English)
דיא חנוכה ליכט	Ḥanukkah⸗Lichter^[1] Das Ḥanukkahfest wird zur Erinnerung an die Makkabäer, die größten júdischen Nationalhelden, gefeiert. An diesem Feste werden allabendlich kleine Lichter entzündet. (The Ḥanukkah festival is celebrated in memory of the Maccabees, the greatest Jewish national heroes. On this festival, small lights are lit every evening.)	The Feast of Lights	Ḥanukkah Lights
א, איהר קלײנע ליכטעלאַך! איהר דערצעהלט געשיכטעלאַך, מעשה׳לאַך אָהן צאָהל, איהר דערצעהלט פון בּלוטיגקײט בּריה׳שאַפט און מוטהיגקײט, װאונדער פון אַמאָל.	O, ihr lieben Lichtelein, Euer freundlich-stiler Schein Spricht gar mancherlei. Spricht von kühnem Heldenmut, Kampf und Tod und Heldenblut, — Wunder längst vorbei!	Little candles glistening, Telling all those listening Legends manifold. Many a little story, Tales of blood and glory, Of the days of old.	Little candles glistening, Telling all those listening Legends manifold. Many a little story, Tales of blood and glory, Of the days of old.
װען איך זעה אײך שמינקלענדיג, קומט אַ חלום פינקלענדיג; רעדט אײן אלטער טרוים׃ ״איד, דוא האָסט געקריעגט אַמאָל, איד, דוא האָסט געזיעגט אַמאָל״ גאָט, דאָס גלויבּט זיך קוים!….	Sieh! Bei eurem flimmernden Schein Tritt ein Traum, ein schimmernder, ein, Und der Traum erzählt: Jude, warst ein Krieger einst, Jude, warst ein Sieger einst, Stolz und kraftgestählt!	As I watch you flicker, As I list you bicker, Speak the ancient dreams: –You have battled, Jew, one time, You have conquer’d too, one time. (God, how strange it seems!)	As I watch you flicker, As I list you bicker, Speak the ancient dreams: “Jew, you also took the field, Jew, you made the foeman yield.” God, how strange it seems!
ס׳איז בּײ דיר א טאלק געװען, ביסט אַמאָל אַ פאָלק געװען, האָסט אַמאָל רעגיערט: האָסט אַמאָל אַ לאַנד געהאַט, האָסט אַמאָל אַ האַנד געהאַט!״ אַך, װיא טיעף דאָס ריהרט!	Auserwählt war dein Geschlecht, Hattest dein Gebot, dein Recht, Lebtest groß und frei, Hattest einst ein eigen Land, Herrschtest drin mit starker Hand, — Wunder längst vorbei!	In your midst was order once, And within your border once Strangers took no part. Jew, you had a land one time, And an armed hand, one time. (How it moves the heart!)	Once you knew on what you stood, Wore the crown of nationhood, Ruled among the rest. “Jew, you had a land, one time, And an armed hand, one time—” How it stirs the breast!
אָ, איהר קלײנע ליכטעלאַך! אײערע געשיכטעלאַך װעקען אויף מײן פּײן; טיעף אין הערץ בּעװעגט עס זיך, און מיט טרעהרען פרעגט עס זיך: װאָס װעט איטצטער זײן?….	O, ihr lieben Lichtelein, Euer freundlich-stiller Schein Weckt den alten Schmerz: Einst und jeßt! So klage ich, Einst und jezt! So frag’ ih mich, Und es weint mein Herz.	Glisten, candles, glisten! As I stand and listen All the grief in me, All the woe is stirred again, And the question heard again: What the end shall be?	Little flickering glories, All your little stories Wake the sleeping pain. In my heart it stirred and cried, Asks, and will not be denied: “Shall this be again?”
* * *
ניט אײבּיג זיינען מיר, װיא היינט, געװען א פאָלק, װאָס קען נאָר קלאָגען; מיר האָבּען אויך אַמאָל דעם פײנד געװיעזען, דאָם מיר קענען שלאָגען.	Wir waren niht immer das Volk, das weint, Das Volk der Tráânen, der Seufzer und Klagen, Wir haben einstmals den stärksten Feind Gelehrt: Auch Juden können schlagen.	Not always as you see us now, Have we been used to weep and sigh, We too have grasped the sword, I trow, And seen astonished foemen fly!	Not always have we been, as now, A nation given to moans and sighing. We too made would-be conquerors bow, And sent the astonished foeman flying!
מיר האָבּען אויך מיט טאַפּפערקײט, מיט טיגערמוטה, פיר אונזער גלויבּען געװאָרפען זיך אין גרעסטען שטרײט און הויך דיא פאָהן פון זיעג ערהויבּען.	Wir haben der wütendsten Hasser gelacht, Und für den Glauben großer Ahnen Wir gingen mutvoll in die Schlacht, Und siegreih wehten unsere Fahnen.	We too have rushed into the fray, For our Belief the battle braved, And through the spears have fought our way. And high the flag of vict’ry waved.	We too have rushed to face the fray, For our belief the battle braved, And through the swords have fought our way, And high the flag of victory waved.
נאָר דורות זײנען זעהר פיעל אװעק, פערגאַנגען זײנען יאָהרען, — מיר זײנען שװאַך געװאָרען, שטיל, דעם אַלטען ריעזענמוטה פערלאָרען.	Geschlechter schwanden im Zeitengewühl, Geschlechter wurden neu geboren, Wir aber haben das Heldengefühl Fm Drang der Golusnot verloren.	But generations go and come, And suns arise and set in tears. And we are weakened now and dumb, Foregone the might of ancient years.	But generations come and go, And suns have risen and set in tears, And we are feeble now and slow, Foregone—the might of ancient years!
פערלאָרען האָבּען מיר דעם מוטה אין גלות צװישען דיא רשעים דאָך איז פערערבּט אין אונזער בּלוט דער פײער פון דיא חשמונאים.	Verloren den alten Riesenmut Und wurden zager, stiller, scheuer, Und doch, noch brennt in unserm Blut Das alte Hasmonäerfeuer.	In exile where the wicked reign. Our courage and our pride expired, But e’en today each throbbing vein With Asmonean blood is fired.	The courage of another age Is lost amid oppression dire; Yet in our blood the heritage Of olden Maccabaean fire.
און חאָטש עס האָבּען שטאַרקע הענד מיט דרעשערם אונזער לײבּ געדראָשען; דאָך יענער אַלטער פײער בּרענט, — איהם האָט דער בּלוט־ים ניט פערלאָשען.	Man hat uns gehegt in Not und Tod, Mit groben Flegeln den Leib uns zerdroschen, Und doch, das alte Feuer loht Und ist im Blutmeer nicht erloschen.	Tho’ cruel hands with mighty flail Have threshed us, yet we have not blenched; The sea of blood could naught prevail, That fire is burning, still unquenched.	The nations round with cruel flail Have threshed us—yet we have not blenched. The fire within can never fail, In seas of blood it burns unquenched.
יאָ, אמת, טיעף איז אונזער פאַל, מיר זײנען קערפּערליך נאָר פליעגען; דאָך לעבּט אין אונז אײן אידעאַל, דעם קענט איהר, פעלקער, ניט בּעזיעגען!	Wir duldeten Martern wohl sonder Zahl, — Die schwachen Körper mußten erliegen, — Doch lebt in uns ein deal, Das, Völker, könnt ihr nie besiegen.	Our fall is great, our fall is real, (You need but look on us to tell!) Yet in us lives the old Ideal Which all the nations shall not quell.	Oh, great and terrible our fall! And all, except our dream, is gone. We’re weak as flies upon the wall, But still the dream, the dream lives on!

This is the poem “דיא חנוכה ליכט” by Morris Rosenfeld (1862-1923) was written in 1897,^[2] The 1897 date is given according to the research of Eliyahu HaCohen (find his article “נרותי הזעירים: קורותיו של שיר חנוכה ומלחינו” in אריאל (Ariel) 191, 2010). which later became the source for a popular Ḥanukkah song. Lacking the source image for that printing, we have transcribed the poem as it was published in Rosenfeld’s collection of poems Gezamelṭe lieder (1906) p.132-134.

The poem was translated from the Yiddish into English by Rose Pastor Stokes & Helena Frank and published under the title, “The Feast of Lights” in Songs of Labor and Other Poems (1914), p. 65-66. Another translation, by Helena Frank alone, was published in Apples & Honey (ed. Nina Salaman 1921), p. 242-244. The German translation by Berthold Feiwel was published in Lieder des Ghetto (1902), p. 81-83, and illustrated by Efraim Moses Lilian. –Aharon Varady

Source(s)

Notes[+]

Notes
1	Das Ḥanukkahfest wird zur Erinnerung an die Makkabäer, die größten júdischen Nationalhelden, gefeiert. An diesem Feste werden allabendlich kleine Lichter entzündet. (The Ḥanukkah festival is celebrated in memory of the Maccabees, the greatest Jewish national heroes. On this festival, small lights are lit every evening.)
2	The 1897 date is given according to the research of Eliyahu HaCohen (find his article “נרותי הזעירים: קורותיו של שיר חנוכה ומלחינו” in אריאל (Ariel) 191, 2010).

. Creative Commons Public Domain Dedication . 1.0 . Universal .

“דיא חנוכה ליכט | Ḥanukkah⸗Lichter | Ḥanukkah Lights, a poem by Morris Rosenfeld (1897)” is shared through the Open Siddur Project with a Creative Commons Public Domain Dedication 1.0 Universal license.

Aharon N. Varady (editing/transcription)

Aharon Varady (M.A.J.Ed./JTSA Davidson) is a volunteer transcriber for the Open Siddur Project. If you find any mistakes in his transcriptions, please let him know. Shgiyot mi yavin; Ministarot naqeni שְׁגִיאוֹת מִי־יָבִין; מִנִּסְתָּרוֹת נַקֵּנִי "Who can know all one's flaws? From hidden errors, correct me" (Psalms 19:13). If you'd like to directly support his work, please consider donating via his Patreon account. (Varady also translates prayers and contributes his own original work besides serving as the primary shammes of the Open Siddur Project and its website, opensiddur.org.)

Helena Frank (translation)

Helena Constance Frank (1872-1954) was a British translator and writer. The founder of the Anglo-Jewish Yiddish Literary Society, she was the first English translator of works by Y.L. Peretz and Morris Rosenfeld, having been introduced in 1902 to the Jewish Publication Society by Henrietta Szold. Her work introduced Yiddish as a literary language to the English-speaking world.

Rose Pastor Stokes (translation)

Rose Harriet Pastor Stokes (née Wieslander; July 18, 1879 – June 20, 1933) was an American socialist activist, writer, birth control advocate, and feminist. She was a figure of some public notoriety after her 1905 marriage to Episcopalian millionaire J. G. Phelps Stokes, a member of elite New York society, who supported the settlements in New York. Together they joined the Socialist Party. Pastor Stokes continued to be active in labor politics and women's issues, including promoting access to birth control, which was highly controversial at the time. In 1919, Pastor Stokes was a founding member of the Communist Party of America and helped develop it into the 1930s. In addition to her writing on politics, she wrote poetry and plays; one was produced in 1916 by the Washington Square Players. She started her autobiography in 1924 but had not completed it at her death; it was published in 1992.

Berthold Feiwel (translation)

Berthold Feiwel (1875–1937) was a Zionist leader and poet. Born in Pohrlitz, Moravia, Feiwel began his higher education in Brno, where he founded the Zionist student organization Veritas. In 1893 he studied law at Vienna University and became Herzl's close associate, helping to organize the First Zionist Congress in 1897. He contributed to the central organ of the Zionist Organization, Die Welt, and became its editor-in-chief in 1901. In his articles he emphasized that Zionism cannot content itself with the political and diplomatic activity of its leaders; it must also bring about the renewal of Jewish spiritual and social life in the Diaspora. At the first Conference of Austrian Zionists at Olmuetz (1901), Feiwel introduced a program of Zionist Diaspora activity, arguing that Zionism means not only the Jewish people seeking refuge in Ereẓ Israel, but also preparing itself (in the Diaspora) for its future commonwealth. Diaspora work covered the whole range of Jewish life in the countries of dispersion: political, economic, cultural, and sporting activities. When his program was rejected by the Zionist Executive, Feiwel resigned as editor of Die Welt and, together with Martin Buber, Chaim Weizmann, and others, created the Democratic Fraction as an opposition group at the Fifth Zionist Congress. Together with Martin Buber, Davis Trietsch, and the painter E.M. Lilien, Feiwel founded the *Juedischer Verlag, a publishing house that distributed mainly German translations of Hebrew and Yiddish literature.In 1903, after the *Kishinev pogrom, Feiwel published Die Judenmassacres in Kischinew under the pseudonym Told. Based on an on-the-spot investigation, this book shocked public opinion. Feiwel had close contacts with Jewish authors in Eastern Europe and became a gifted translator of their works. In the book Junge Harfen (1914) he presented their modern poetry. The Juedischer Almanach (1902), an anthology edited by Feiwel, as well as Lieder des Ghetto (1902, 1920), translations of poems of the Yiddish poet Morris Rosenfeld with drawings by E.M. Lilien, also had considerable literary influence. After World War i (1919), Feiwel's friend Weizmann summoned him to London to become his political and economic adviser. When Keren Hayesod was founded (1920), Feiwel became one of its first directors. In 1933 he settled in Jerusalem.

Morris Rosenfeld

Morris Rosenfeld (Yiddish: מאָריס ראָסענפֿעלד; born as Moshe Jacob Alter; December 28, 1862 in Stare Boksze in Russian Poland, government of Suwałki – June 22, 1923 in New York City) was a Yiddish poet.

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ויהי נעם אדני אלהינו עלינו ומעשה ידינו כוננה עלינו ומעשה ידינו כוננהו "May the pleasantness of אדֹני our elo’ah be upon us; may our handiwork be established for us — our handiwork, may it be established." –Psalms 90:17