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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 faygel oyf der fray,
Dos hot a folk tsvishen falendike vent,
Dos lid gezungen mit naganes in di hent!
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Don't ever say that you are on your final way,
Though skies of lead obscure the sunny days.
The hour we've waited for so long is drawing near,
When our steps will thunder out, "We are here!"
From lands of green palms to the lands all white with snow,
We are coming with our pain and with our woe.
And where our blood has spurted out upon the ground,
Up will sprout our might, our courage all around.
For the morning sun will warm us with its glow,
And the night will disappear, as will the foe.
But if too late for us when comes the dawn once more,
Then pass the message of this song l'dor va dor.1
This song is written with our blood and not with lead,
It's not the sweet song of a bird flying overhead.
But 'twas a people with walls falling all around,
Who sang this song and held their guns and stood their ground.
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