Remnants in the ghettos and death camps rose up against the wicked ones and slew many of them before they themselves died. In 1943, on the first night of Pesach, remnants of the Warsaw Ghetto rose up against the adversary. They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they brought redemption to the name of Israel through all the world. In their honor this song was written and sung:

Zog nit keyn mol az du geyst dem letstn veg khotsh himlen blayene farshteln bloye teg. Kumen vet nokh undzer oysgebenkte sho– S’vet a poyk ton undzer trot–mir zaynen do!

Fun grinem palmenland biz vaysn land fun shney, Mir kumen on mit undzer payn, mit undzer vey. Un vu gefaln s’iz a shprits fun unzer blut, Shprotsn vet dortn undzer gvure, undzer mut.

Es vet di morgnzun bagildn undz dem haynt, Un der nekhtn vet farshvindn mitn faynd. Nor oyb farzamen vet di zun in dem kayor– Vi a parol zol geyn dos lid fun dor tsu dor.

Dos lid geshribn iz mit blut un nit mit blay. S’iz nit keyn lidl fun a foygl af der fray. Dos hot a folk tsvishn falndike vent Dos lid gezungen mit naganes in di hent!

To zog nit keyn mol az du geyst dem letstn veg....

Never say that there is only death for you Though leaden skies may be concealing days of blue— Because the hour that we’ve 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 without torment and our woes, 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 without 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.

So, never say that there is only death for you Though leaden skies may be concealing days of blue— Because the hour that we’ve hungered for is near; Beneath our tread the earth shall tremble: We are here!


haggadah Section: Songs
Source: A Growing Haggadah, written by Debbie Friedman