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, but who knows? While there’s no known community of Jews who spoke Gothic or any other East Germanic language, there certainly were Jews who came into contact with it, such as the communities of Crimea (where variants of Gothic continued to be spoken until the 18th century). In any case this translation of Ḥad Gadya follows the grammar of Wulfila’s 4th-century Gothic translations. . . .

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, since there is very little evidence of any Jews having lived in the Nordic countries before the Spanish expulsion, long after the end of the Old Norse era. . . .

A Latin translation of the popular Passover song, Ḥad Gadya. . . .

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 almost a thousand years after the Sabaic language became extinct. But Sabaic, a South Semitic language somewhere between Arabic and Ge’ez, is worth studying for any Jewish scholar because of the light it sheds on the history of the Semitic languages and the Middle East as a whole. (Not to mention that it was a lingua franca of the Yemenite Jewish kingdom of Himyar!) This is a Sabaic translation, transcription, and hypothetical vocalization of Ḥad Gadya. . . .

A Ge’ez translation of the popular Passover seder song, Ḥad Gadya. . . .

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 two millenia after the Ugaritic language became extinct. But Ugaritic, closely related to the Canaanite language family of which Hebrew is a part, is worth studying for any Jewish scholar because of the light it sheds on the history of the Western Semitic peoples. So I’ve attempted a Ugaritic translation of Ḥad Gadya. . . .

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! . . .

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. . . .

Making sense of Ḥad Gadya beyond its explicit meaning has long inspired commentary. For me, Ḥad Gadya expresses in its own beautiful and macabre way a particularly important idea in Judaism that has become obscure if not esoteric. While an animal’s life may today be purchased, ultimately, the forces of exploitation, predation, and destruction that dominate our world will be overturned. Singing Ḥad Gadya is thus particularly apropos for the night of Passover since, in the Jewish calendar, this one night, different from all other nights, is considered the most dangerous night of the year — it is the time in which the forces of darkness in the world are strongest. Why? It is on this night that the divine aspect of Mashḥit, the executioner, is explicitly invoked (albeit, only in the context of the divine acting as midwife and guardian/protector of her people), as explained in the midrash for Exodus 12:12 . . .

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

“Purim Kirtan” is a traditional Purim song of the Bene Israel community of Mumbai, India. Many thanks to our friends at the Jewish Language Project and to their team member Jacob Kohn for recording, transcribing, and translating the song as sung by Rivkah Moshe. . . .

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.” . . .

The piyyut, Tsur Mishelo, in Hebrew with an English translation. . . .

The paralitugical Birkat haMazon Tsur Mishelo, in Hebrew with an English translation. . . .

A rhymed translation of Tsur Mishelo, a paralitugical Birkat haMazon. . . .

The text of the popular piyyut “Adir Bimlukhah” (a/k/a “Ki lo na’eh”) in Hebrew, with a Latin translation. . . .

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. . . .

A Karaite song for the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur). . . .

A litany of mythical guests and creatures presenting at the Passover seder. . . .

The piyyut, Dayenu, in its Latin translation by Johann Stephan Rittangel. . . .