Autumn

by Itzik Manger
translated from the Yiddish by Y.D. Shulman

Leaves of autumn, red, are falling.
the king is sitting all alone.
The wind spins out its withered whine:
All for nothing, all for nothing.
 
Shmerl with his fiddle,
Beryl with his bass--
Their melody is bringing
Tears to my eyes.
 
The setting sun glows on the panes
Of my far and feverish home.
Longing tears me--kisses bite cold
In this hovel of shored-up lime.
 
Shmerl with his fiddle,
Beryl with his bass--
Their melody is bringing
Tears to my eyes.
 
In the courtyard, beggars sing,
And children weep beside the door.
The gentle evening grooms her stars
Beside an ancient watermill.
 
 
Shmerl with his fiddle,
Beryl with his bass--
Their melody is bringing
Tears to my eyes.
 
And haggard women wish to sleep.
Their sleep is walking in the woods.
These ancient women, torn and tossed
On cold straw beds--their dream's escaped.
 
Shmerl with his fiddle,
Beryl with his bass--
Their melody is bringing
Tears to my eyes.
 
Thin pimps are singing serenades,
Their modest brides are smiling sweetly.
The autumn, with her bandaged feet,
Is singing Manger's tearful ballads.
 
Shmerl with his fiddle,
Beryl with his bass--
Their melody is bringing
Tears to my eyes.
 
The willow mirrors its lament
In water--or in melodies.
And overhead a large bird flees,
Passing everything with regret.
 
Shmerl with his fiddle,
Beryl with his bass--
Their melody is bringing
Tears to my eyes.