Yeah, all of Zoueini's performances on the album are in Arabic. He wrote the songs himself.

"Dos yingl vet zey firn" is in Yiddish, and it's a version of the song also sung as "Un a yingele vet zey firn" or "A yingele ligt farbrent". The words are slightly different to the versions I can find online, though.

I did actually just now find the words for A Nign - https://yiddishsongs.org/a-nign/.

Once there was a poor man who would only quarrel with God. Wonders upon wonders happened to him when he sang a tune like this: Tshiri-bim, bam, bam. Wine flowed from the melody he swallowed gulp after gulp. Wonders upon wonders happened to him when he sang, sang just like this: Tshiri-bim, bam, bam. The Jew sang and bliss poured forth until he jumped for joy Wonders upon wonders happened to him when he sang, sang just like this: Tshiri-bim, bam, bam!

Iz a kabtsn a mol gevezn, Flegt er nor mit got zikh krign. Vunder iber vunder hot mit im getrofn, Ven er hot gezungen ot aza min nign: Tshiri-bim, bam, bam. Hot fun nign zikh vayn gegosn, Hot er zup nokh geshlungen, Vunder iber vunder hot mit im getrofn, Ven er got gezungen, ot azoy gezungen; Tshiri-bim, bam, bam. Zingt der yid un s’gist zikh mesikes, Iz er azh fun freyd geshprungen, Vunder iber vunder hot mit im getrofn, Ven er hot gezungen, ot azoy gezungen: Tshiri-bim, bam, bam.

Keep dreaming, great prophet, your dream. Show yourself again above the ruined walls. Never mind that he who is calling you sits, weary, he is mourning a little boy who lies, incinerated. A wolf shall lie together with a sheep, and a little boy will lead them by the hand. Meanwhile, come, prophet, console his mother, who wails, mourning her little boy who lies, incinerated. A leopard shall be embraced by a kid– they will have recognized each other; the mother rocks an empty cradle, lulls and lulls, the little boy lies dead, burnt to ashes. A cow shall walk with a bear to pasture, a snake shall approach a child with kindness, but up to now we have been bad guardians – the little boy lies dead, burnt to ashes. His mother climbs out from the bunker’s depths turning to you with her swaying hands, oh, prophet, prophet bring the End of Days, resurrect the little boy who lies, incinerated.

Dayn kholem groyser novi, kholem vider, Bavayz zikh vider iber khorevdike vent, Nit kuk vos der vos ruft dikh zitst a mider — Dos klogt er oyfn yingele vos ligt farbrent. A volf dart voynen mit a sheps tsuzamen, Dos yingele darf firn zey mit zayne hent,­ — Dervayl kum, novi, brengen treyst der mamen, Vos klogt-baklogt ir yingele vos ligt farbrent. Tsum lempert darf a tsigele zikh tulyen — Zey zoln hobn beyde zikh derkent; Di mame vigt a puste vig, tut lulyen, lulyen, Dos yingele ligt toyt, oyf ash farbrent. A ku darf shprayzn mit a ber oyf fiter, Mit gutskeyt tsu a kind zol zayn a shlang genent, Nor mir zaynen geven biz itster shlekhte hiter — Dos yingele ligt toyt, oyf ash farbrent. Di mame shtaygt aroyf fun bunker-t’homen Mit ire vigndike hent tsu dir gevendt; O novi ,novi, breng dem akhris hayomim Makh lebedik dos yingele vos ligt farbrent.