"Partizaner Lid"- Partisan Song
poem: Hirsch Glik / music: Dimitrij J. Pokras

Yddish

Zog nit kein mol az du gueist dem letstn veg,
Jotsh himlen blaiene farshteln bloie teg.
Kumen vet noj undzer oisgebenkte sho;
S'vet a poikt on undzer trot: Mir zainen do!

Fun grinem palmenland biz vaisn land fun shnei,
Mir kumen on mit undzer pain, mit undzer vei.
Un vu gefaln s'iz a shprits fun undzer blut -
Shprotsn vet dort undzer gvure, undzer mut.

S'vet di morgnzun bagildn undz dem haint,
Un der nejtn vet farshvindn mitn faind.
Nor oib farzamen vet di zun in dem kaior,
Vi a parol zol gein dos lid fun dor tsu dor.

Dos lid geshribn iz mit blut un nit mit blai,
[Geshribn iz dos lid mit blut un nit mit blai,]
S'iz nit kein lidl fun a foigl oif der frai.
Dos hot a folk tsvishn falndike vent
Dos lid gezungen mit naganes in di hent.

To zog nit kein mol as du gueist dem letstn veg,
jotsh himlen blayene farshteln bloye teg.
Kumen vet noj undzer oisgebenkte sho;
S'vet a poik ton undzer trot: Mir zainen do!

English

Never say that there is only death for you
Though leaden clouds may be concealing skies of blue
Because the hour that we have hungered for is near;
Beneath our tread the earth shall tremble: We are here!

From land of palm tree to the far-off land of snow
We shall be coming with our torment and our woe,
And everywhere our blood has sunk into the earth
Shall our bravery, our vigor blossom forth!

We'll have the morning sun to set our day aglow,
And all our yesterdays shall vanish with the foe,
And if the time is long before the sun appears,
Then let this song go like a signal through the years.

This song was written with our blood and not with lead;
It's not a song that birds sing overhead.
It was a people, among toppling barricades,
That sang this song of ours with pistols and grenades.

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Zog nit keyn mol az du geyst dem letsten veg,
 Khotsh himlen blayene farsthtelen bloye teg.

Kumen vet nokh undzer oysgebenkte sha'ah,
  S'vet a poyk ton undzer trot mir zaynen do!

Fun grinem palmenland biz vaysen land fun shney,
  Mir kumen on mit undzer payn, mit undzer vey.

Un vu gefalen s'iz a shpritz fun undzer blut,
  Shprotzen vet dort undzer gevurah, undzer mut.

S'vet di morgenzum bagilden undz dem haynt,
  Un der nekhten vet farshvinden miten faynd.

Nor oyb farzamen vet di zun in dem kayor,
  Vi a parol zol geyn dos lid fun dor tsu dor.

Dos lid geshriben iz mit blut un nit mit blay,
  S'iz nit keyn lidel fun a foygel oyf der fray,

Dos hot a folk tsvishen falendike vent,
  Dos lid gezungen mit naganes in di hent

---

Never say you are walking your final road,
  Though leaden skies conceal the days of blue.

But a people stood among collapsing walls,
  And sang this song with pistols in their hands

The hour that we have longed for will appear,
  Our steps will beat out like drums: We are here!

From the green lands of palm trees to lands white with snow,
  We are coming with our all pain and all our woe.

Wherever a spurt of our blood has fallen to the ground,
  There our might and our courage will sprout again.

The morning sun will shine on us one day,
  Our enemy will vanish and fade away.

But if the sun and dawn come too late for us,
  From generation to generation let them be singing this song.

This song is written in blood not in pencil-lead.
  It is not sung by the free-flying birds overhead,

Download Partisan Song

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Hirsh Glick was born in 1920 in Vilna. When the ghetto was liquidated, he was sent to a concentration camp in Estonia. He escaped from the camp and joined the partisans, and died while fighting as a partisan. His partisan song, "Zog Nit Kainmol," (Song of the Partisans) became the hymn of the underground organization.

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