Mayn Shvester Khaye
Poem by Binem Heller (1906-1998)
Set to music by Chava Alberstein
Recorded by Alberstein and the Klezmatics on the album, The Well.
English translation by Michael Wex
Also recorded by Australian band, Klezmania

Mayn shvester Khaye mit di grine oygen,
Mayn shvester Khaye mit di shvartse tsep---
Di shvester Khaye, vos hot mikh dertsoygn
Oyf smotshe-gas, in hoyz mit krume trep.

Di mame iz avek fun shtub baginen,
Ven oyfn himl hot ersht koym gehelt.
Zi iz avek in krom arayn fardinen
Dos bidne-drobne groshedike gelt.

Un Khaye iz geblibn mit di brider,
Un zi hot zey gekormet un gehit,
Un zi flegt zingen zey di sheyne lider,
Far nakht, ven kleyne kinder vern mid.

Mayn shvester Khaye mit di grine oygen,
Mayn shvester Khaye mit di lange hor---
Di shvester Khaye, vos hot mikh dertsoygn,
Iz nokh nisht alt geven keyn tsendling yor.

Zi hot geroymt, gekokht, derlangt dos esn,
Zi hot getsvogn undz di kleyne kep,
Nor shpiln zikh mit undz hot zi fargesn---
Di shvester Khaye mit di shvartse tsep.

Mayn shvester Khaye mit di grine oygen,
A daytsh hot in treblinke zi farbrent.
Un ikh bin in der yidishe medine
Der same letster, vos hos zi gekent.

Far ir shrayb ikh oyf yidish mayne lider
In teg di shreklekhe fun undzer tsayt.
Bay got aleyn iz zi a bas-yekhide---
In himl zitst zi bay zayn rekhter zayt.

My sister Khaye, her eyes were green,
My sister Khaye, her braids were black---
Sister Khaye, it was she who raised me
In the house on Smotshe Street with tumble-down steps.

Mother left the house at dawn
When the sky had hardly lightened.
She went off to the shop, to earn
A wretched penny's worth of change.

And Khaye stayed with the boys,
She fed them and watched over them.
And at evening, when little kids get tired,
She'd sing them pretty songs.

My sister Khaye, her eyes were green,
My sister Khaye, her hair was long---
Sister Khaye, it was she who raised me,
She wasn't even ten years old.

She cleaned and cooked and served the food,
She washed our little heads,
All she forgot was to play with us---
Sister Khaye, her braids were black.

My sister Khaye with her eyes of green
Was burnt by a German in Treblinka.
And I am in the Jewish state,
The very last one who knew her.

It's for her that I write my poems in Yiddish
In these terrible days of our times.
To God Himself she's an only daughter,
She sits in heaven at His right hand.