This piyyut, Elaha Taqifa (Mighty God), the third in a series of Aramaic piyyutim from the seventh day of Pesaḥ, is meant to be recited after the concluding verse of the second aliyah (third on Shabbat). The translation preserves the alphabetical acrostic, as well as the authorial tag — Jequtiel son of Joseph. . . .

“Elimelekh G’la” is a Byzantine-era Western Aramaic poetic retelling of the Book of Ruth. It was probably originally used as part of the liturgy for Shavuot, perhaps as a poetic addition to the recitation of a Targumic interpretation of the Book of Ruth. (The verses from Ruth and Psalms appended to the coda of the piyyuṭ would suggest such a Sitz im Leben.) But in any case, it has a great acrostic structure and rhyme scheme, and ought to be preserved! Here is included a vocalized text, largely based on the unvocalized text compiled in Jewish Palestinian Aramaic Poetry from Late Antiquity (ed. Yahalom and Sakaloff, 1999) where it’s the tenth poem recorded. ‘ve added a rhyming poetic translation that preserves the Hebrew acrostic. Credit to Laura Suzanne Lieber’s literal translations of these poems (in Jewish Aramaic Poetry from Late Antiquity: Translations and Commentaries, 2018), which have served as a very helpful resource for the project. . . .

This seliḥah poem, written by R. Joseph of Chartres, commemorates the martyrdom of approximately 150 Jews in Clifford’s Tower, York, England, in the year 1190. A summary of the events of 1190, sometimes referred to as “the English Masada,” can be found here. Like many medieval Jewish poems about massacres, Elohim B’alunu carefully treads the line between assuming guilt and declaring innocence. This poem, interestingly enough, directly calls out the person seen by R. Joseph of Chartres as ultimately responsible — the crusader King Richard Ⅰ. Beloved in Christian memory, this radical zealot of a king has a much darker, more horrific reputation among Jewish and Muslim groups. . . .

Some Jewish communities, especially those in the region of the Four Lands, have a custom of fasting on the 20th of Sivan. This day has a full seliḥot service, commemorating a series of horrors that occurred on that day, most prominently the Chmielnicki (Khmielnetsky) massacres of 1648-49. But this poem was written for another horrific occurrence on 20 Sivan, the blood libel of Blois in 1171. This was the first time the accusation of ritual murder was ever made against the Jews of France, but it wasn’t the last. This seliḥah poem, written by Hillel ben Jacob of Bonn, starts with the dramatic accusation that God has abandoned the people Israel, continuing by listing those who died in myriad horrid ways, and ending with several citations from the apocalyptic final chapter of the book of Joel. . . .

Emunim ʿIrkhu Shevaḥ is a brief piyyut recited in North African communities in Rabban Gamliel’s list, between Pesaḥ and Maror. It spells out “Aaron the Priest” as an alphabetical acrostic, but it is uncertain whether this is an authorial signature or a mystical reference to the Biblical figure. . . .

A Yevanic (Judeo-Greek) translation of the popular Passover song, Ḥad Gadya. . . .

A traditional Cochin Ḳaddish Shalem, based on siddurim published for the Cochin Jewish community by the Props brothers of Amsterdam. . . .

This Purim song, popular among the Sephardic and Italki communities of Livorno, can be sung to the melody of “Akh, Zeh Hayom Kiviti.” Like a lot of Italian Purim content, a large portion of it is listing different desserts. . . .

An original version of Ḥad Gadya which has been fully Aramaicized, with all the Hebrew words removed and the verbs conjugated properly. . . .

An original Hebrew translation of the popular medieval commercium song and graduation anthem “De Brevitate Vitæ,” more commonly known as “Gaudeamus Igitur.” First attested in 1287, this Latin poem is irrevocably associated with college life for academics all over the world. It has been translated into many languages, and this Hebrew edition can be added to the list. . . .

This prayer for the country is found in the Siddur Sephat Emeth, which was published by the venerable Rödelheim publishing house in Frankfurt in 1938. This was probably the last siddur ever published in pre-Holocaust Germany. This prayer is full of pathos and yearning, and in a time of rising government-sponsored antisemitism worldwide it’s worth keeping in mind. . . .

In our timeline, the Kaifeng Jewish community had originally spoken Persian as their lingua franca, before adopting the Kaifeng dialect of Mandarin that their neighbors spoke. But just change a little and all of history could be different! This is a translation of Ḥad Gadya in a timeline where Judeo-Aramaic was a little more prevalent in eastern Persia all those years ago. In this timeline, instead of speaking Judeo-Persian before adopting Chinese, the Kaifeng Jews spoke Aramaic. And this dialect of Aramaic, like many other languages spoken in the greater Chinese cultural sphere, underwent tonogenesis! . . .

Shmini Atseret is a strange festival. In some ways part of Sukkot, in some ways its own thing, it occupies an equivocal place in the yearly cycle. But one thing that is completely true: Shmini Atseret is on Pi Day. Well, Pi Approximation Day — the twenty-second day of the seventh month. Inspired by my friend and math enthusiast Aryeh Baruch (may he have a long life), I’ve compiled this altered form of the haftarah for Shmini Atseret in the diaspora, including the description of King Solomon’s “molten sea,” as well as an Aramaic “reshut” poem with a numeral acrostic of the first few digits of pi. . . .

On Shabbat Ḥazon, the Shabbat before Tisha b’Av, many Ashkenazi communities have a custom to read most of the haftarah (Isaiah 1:1-27) in Eikha trop, the cantillation used for the Book of Lamentations. There are many distinct customs, but one of the most common reads verses at the beginning and end in standard haftarah trop, as well as several verses in the middle, selected for their more hopeful message. This edition of the haftarah for Shabbat Ḥazon, along with its new translation, has the verses recited in Eikha trop marked in blue and the verses in haftarah trop in black. . . .

The haftarah for the second day of Shavuot, Ḥabakkuk 2:20-3:19, interspersed with a cantillated text of the Targum Yonatan ben Uzziel. Since Targum Yonatan is a bit more drash-heavy than Targum Onkelos, it is translated separately as well. The haftarah reading includes the piyyut Yetsiv Pitgam, with an acrostic rhyming translation of the poem, with the second-to-last verse restored to its rightful place, as well as a concluding paragraph for the meturgeman to recite, as found in the Maḥzor Vitry. . . .

First written and published in Hamburg in 1842 by Tzvi Hirsch Sommerhausen (1781-1853), the Haggadah l’Leil Shikkorim is a parody of the familiar segments of the Haggadah, but for Purim instead of Pesaḥ. According to Israel Davidson’s “Parody in Jewish Literature,” (1907) Sommerhausen’s work was published in six editions, including one with a Judeo-Arabic sharḥ. (If anyone has a link to that, please send it to me!) Anyway, this edition is fully vocalized and translated into English, for your Purim enjoyment. . . .

Hälē Hälē yebärkewo (Praise, Praise, Bless the One) is the fourth prayer in this order of prayers for the morning of Sigd. . . .

This somewhat crude Purim song is sung in many variants in the Moroccan and Gibraltar Sephardic communities, often to the tune of the popular Purim hymn “Akh Ze Hayom Kiviti.” . . .

This is the Haqafot for Purim by Avraham Menaḥem Mendel Mohr from his Kol Bo l’Purim (1855) transcribed and translated from Hebrew into English by Isaac Gantwerk Mayer. . . .

This is the Hosha’not for Purim by Avraham Menaḥem Mendel Mohr from his Kol Bo l’Purim (1855) transcribed and translated from Aramaic into English by Isaac Gantwerk Mayer. . . .

This piyyut, Ilu Pume Nima (If Our Mouths Were Thread), the first in a series of Aramaic piyyutim from the seventh day of Pesaḥ, is meant to be recited after the first verse of the first aliyah, as an introduction or ‘reshut’ to the seder meturgeman as a whole. . . .

An Israelite-Samaritan prayerbook for evenings and mornings (not a complete Israelite-Samaritan prayerbook). . . .

Itti Bishlam is a sixteen-hundred year old Samaritan Aramaic poem attributed to the great Samaritan sage Marqeh son of Amram. In twelve stanzas it tells the story of the night of the tenth plague and the Exodus. Samaritans traditionally recite it on the night before the holidays, the Sabbaths before the holidays, and the evening before the first day of the first month (the Samaritan new year, fourteen days before Passover). Largely a half-alphabetical acrostic, the fifth stanza of Itti Bishlam begins with an īt (ḥeth) rather than the expected īy (her), understandable considering the loss of guttural distinctions in Samaritan phonology. (See the number of Jewish poems which confuse sin and samekh for a parallel occurrence.) Itti Bishlam is, interestingly enough, lacking polemic or sectarian content — it never calls upon the Samaritan holy mountain of Aargaarizem (Mt. Gerizim), nor does it include any context that contradicts the traditional Jewish interpretation of the paschal narrative. It is worthwhile for Jews to learn about and understand the liturgical practices of their sister religion, and this poem is a great place to start! . . .

This piyyut, Izel Moshe (Arise, Moses), the fifth in a series of Aramaic piyyutim from the seventh day of Pesaḥ, is meant to be recited after the second verse of the song proper, as an elaboration on God’s strength. The English translation preserves the Hebrew acrostic of the original. . . .

Ḥad Gadya has a place in Seder tables throughout the Jewish world, and in many communities it was read in translation. This Middle Egyptian translation was almost certainly the one that Moshe Rabbeinu himself sang at his seder table that fateful night in Egypt! …Not really. Ḥad Gadya postdates Middle Egyptian as a written language by about three millennia. But it’s fun and Pesaḥ-appropriate to sing this song in the language of that dagnabbed Pharaoh himself. Also included is a transcript of the text into Hebrew script, since Judeo-Hieroglyphics don’t exist… yet. Eh, the alphabet was adapted from hieroglyphics from the start. It’s fine. You could even say it’s an improvement. For reading out loud I’ve also included the standard Egyptological pronunciation system. If you’re stuck in a time machine be careful, it’s an artificial convention that should not be mistaken for how Egyptian was pronounced at the time. But personally I think “Tutenkhamen” is easier to say than *Təwā́təʾ-ʿā́nəkh-ʾamā́nəʾ, so sue me. . . .

Variations of the original three lines culminating with “Just walk beside me” first began to appear in print in 1971. Early on misattributed to the French writer Albert Camus (1913–1960), the lines circulated by newspaper and other periodicals before migrating to yearbook quotes. In the Jewish world of the early to mid-1970s, a young Moshe Tanenbaum began transmitting the lines at Jewish summer camps. In 1979, as Uncle Moishy, Tanenbaum published a recording of the song under the title “v’Ohavta” (track A4 on The Adventures of Uncle Moishy and the Mitzvah Men, volume 2). . . .

A Judeo-Moroccan Arabic (Darija) adaptation of the Passover counting song Eḥad Mi Yodeaȝ, as found in Mahzor Moȝadé Hashem. . . .

In many eastern Sephardic and Mizraḥi communities, there is a custom that a poetic “ketubah,” or marriage-contract, is recited before the Torah service on Shavuot. This custom, based on the midrashic idea that the Torah is the ketubah for the marriage between the bride Israel and the groom God, is beloved by the ḳabbalists. By far the most commonly used Shavuot ketubah is that of the great paytan and meḳubal Yisrael ben Moshe Najara, who wrote the following some time in the sixteenth century. This is a new translation of Najara’s poem. . . .

This is a parody riffing on the piyyut Yom Zeh Mekhubad for Purim by Avraham Menaḥem Mendel Mohr from his Kol Bo l’Purim (1855) transcribed and translated from Hebrew into English by Isaac Gantwerk Mayer. . . .

Ḥad Gadya has a place in Seder tables throughout the Jewish world, and in many communities it was read in translation. Probably not this one though, seeing as it was written over a millenium after Akkadian became extinct. But in my opinion there ought to be a representation of the East Semitic language family in the canon of Ḥad Gadya translations. Also included is a transcript of the Akkadian text into Hebrew script, since Judeo-Cuneiform doesn’t exist… yet. Eh, Aramaic script was invented in the places Akkadian was spoken anyway, it’s fine. A hearty thanks to Dr. Janine Wende at the University of Leipzig for proofreading and editing the Akkadian translation! . . .

This is a parody riffing on the piyyut Kol Meqadesh Shevi’i for Purim by Avraham Menaḥem Mendel Mohr from his Kol Bo l’Purim (1855) transcribed and translated from Hebrew into English by Isaac Gantwerk Mayer. . . .

The Italian Jewish community is one of the oldest continuous Jewish communities on the planet, dating back to the Roman empire at the latest.The Italian Jewish nusaḥ preserves several archaic practices that Ashkenazi and Sephardi rites no longer follow, many of which were found in gaonic siddurim and preserved only among the Italians. One fascinating custom of the Italian Jews is the recitation of what Ashkenazim and Sephardim call “Kol Nidrei” not in Aramaic, but in Hebrew, under the name “Kol N’darim.” This custom, also found among the Romaniotes of Greece, is elsewhere only found in the siddur of Rav Amram Gaon. The text included here is transcribed, niqqud and all, directly from a 1469 Italian-rite siddur found in the British Library. The scribe uses several non-standard vocalizations, which have been marked in editors’ notes. . . .

This piyyut, attributed to Menaḥem ben Aharon, is found in the Maḥzor Vitry, siman 465. It is a note-for-note structural parody of a beloved Pesaḥ maarava poem, Leil Shimurim. Israel Davidson, in his 1907 work “Parody in Jewish Literature,” writes, “The parodist apparently has no other aim than to dress a wine-song in the garb of a religious hymn. The burden of the song is that on Purim one must throw of all care and anxiety… But in order to make our happiness complete, we must remember the needy, and share our luxuries with those that are in want of them.” . . .

A different version of the poem Lekhah Dodi according to the book Seder haYom by R. Moshe ibn Makhir of righteous blessed memory, vocalized and translated into English by Isaac Mayer. . . .

This letter, written in Imperial Aramaic in 419 BCE, is among the vast number of papyrus letters found in Elephantine, also known as Yeb. The Jewish (or more accurately, Judean) community of Yeb is a fascinating bit of history — a group of Judean mercenaries who settled in Egypt and built their own smaller temple! Although their origin was clearly Judean, and they referred to themselves as the ḥeila yehudaya = Judean garrison, their form of worship featured no Deuteronomic centralization, no discussion of the patriarchs, and questionable monotheism! Although the primary deity was YHW (note the difference in spelling), multiple other deities or hypostatized aspects of divinity were worshipped, and verbs for the word “God” are conjugated in the plural rather than the singular. This text is one of a series of letters written between the brothers Yedaniah and Ḥananiah. In this case, it is giving instructions for keeping the holiday of Pesaḥ. These instructions are interesting in their own right — the prohibition on beer could alternatively be read as a prohibition on any alcoholic drink, which would align with Karaite practice rather than rabbinic. But what’s even more interesting is what isn’t mentioned — the instructions given mention nothing whatsoever about the exodus from Egypt, or even God! The diktat to observe the holiday is accredited not to God or Moses, but to Darius, king of the Achaemenid Empire! This passage is a fascinating taste of a part of Judaism that we know very little about. Vocalization according to Tiberian norms and translation into English by the translator. . . .

In many communities, the practice of Yaḥats, or breaking the matsah before maggid, is done with liturgical and ritual additions. The additions included here are one practice out of many variants as found in the practice of Djerba, the island off the coast of Tunisia. . . .

In Yemenite practice, directly after the four questions are recited the youngest literate person at the table reads a brief Judeo-Arabic passage, here transcribed per the Yemenite transliteration system (wherein gimel dagesh = j and qof = g) and translated into Arabic and Hebrew. Instructional notes say this passage is “for the benefit of women and toddlers,” the two main classes of people who would have not had access to Hebrew education at the time. . . .

This qina is recited in the Spanish-Portuguese rite (as practiced in the Snoge in Amsterdam, the Bevis Marks Synagogue in London, and Shearith Israel in New York City among many other communities) at the conclusion of the recitation of qinot on the evening of the Ninth of Aḅ. Its refrain, taken from the Four Questions of the Passover liturgy, is reframed* as a reflection of the suffering of such a day, contrasting the celebration of salvation on Passover with the fear and desolation of the fast day. . . .

The maaravot-cycle of piyyutim for the first night of Shavuot, by Joseph ben Samuel Bonfils. In normative maaravot fashion, it is one extended cycle with an overarching structure (the first words of each of the Ten Commandments) throughout the whole of the kriat shema, with additional piyyutim incorporated into the first blessing after the shema. . . .

This is a transcript and translation of the Maariv service for Shabbat evening in the Old Persian rite, as recorded in MS Adler 23 ENA (https://hebrewbooks.org/20923) in the JTS Library. The Old Persian rite shows some fascinating unique linguistic features. The first thing that immediately strikes one is its tendency towards poetic extensions and doublings, even in texts (such as the Avot blessing) where most other rites are almost completely uniform. It also shows some nonstandard vocalizations that appear to be influenced by the Babylonian system of vocalization. In modern Persian communities the standard rite is a variation of the Sephardic rite used throught the Mizraḥi world, but this older rite with its unique facets deserves to be preserved as well. This is part 1 of a planned series of transcripts and translations from MS Adler 23 ENA. . . .

This piyyut, Man K’vatakh (Who is Like You), the seventh in a series of Aramaic piyyutim from the seventh day of Pesaḥ, is meant to be recited as an introduction to the Targum of the verse that includes “Mi Khamokha.” The English translation preserves the Hebrew acrostic of the Aramaic. . . .

Mänabərätä betä Dawitə (Thrones of David’s House) is the sixth prayer in this order of prayers for the morning of Sigd. It is an ancient text inspired by and quoting Psalm 122, partially in Geʿez and partially in Agaw. . . .

A complete poetic translation (all six verses) of Maoz Tsur. As far as the editor knows this is the first translation of Maoz Tsur to both (a) cover all the verses relatively accurately and (b) preserve the strict ABAB-BBCCB rhyme scheme of the original. (Reb Zalman’s comes close but it goes ABAB-CCDDC instead). If it sounds violent, that’s because it *is* violent. Ḥanukkah is a holiday about actively fighting against assimilation and abuse. A lot of Maoz Tsur translations are censored, but it’s a powerful, loud, and even nationalist statement. . . .

This is a complete poetic rhyming translation of Maoz Tsur with all six of its stanzas including a seventh, final stanza written by Isaac Gantwerk Mayer specifically for Yom ha-Atsmau’ut. . . .

A megillah attesting to the terrible events of World War II from the vantage of North African Jewry in Casablanca. . . .

An original gender-neutral translation of the book of Lamentations, preserving the alphabetical acrostic through closest parallels to the Hebrew letter. . . .

Behold, a full text of the Megillah of Fustat, telling a story of a great miracle that happened in 1524 CE (5284 AM). . . .

The Megillat Saragossa (also known as the Megillat Syracusa) in Hebrew and English, named after the tale of rescue and reversal of fortune in that place around 1420 CE, to be read on the 17th of Shəvat. . . .

This is the translation of Ḥad Gadya into Judeo-Valyrian with a Hebraicization schema for Valyrian by Isaac Gantwerk Mayer. . . .

The poem Mi Khamokha v-Ein Khamokha, an epic retelling of the book of Esther in verse, was written for Shabbat Zakhor, the Shabbat before Purim, by the great paytan Yehuda ben Shmuel haLevi. It was originally written as a “geulah,” meant to be inserted into the prayer after the Shema in place of the verse beginning with “A new song…” But later Sephardic poskim ruled that it was forbidden to insert piyyutim into the Shema blessings, so in the communities that recite it today it is generally either read after the Full Kaddish as an introduction to the Torah service, or (for instance, in most Spanish and Portuguese communities) within the verse “Kol atzmotai tomarna” in the Nishmat prayer. Wherever you include it in your service, it’s a beautiful and intricately rhymed piyyut, and surprisingly easy to understand at that. It is presented here in a gender-neutral translation with all the Biblical verses cited, alongside a new translation that preserves the fourfold acrostic, two alphabetical and two authorial. –Isaac Gantwerk Mayer . . .