My Return Home

by Avraham Reisen Translated by Lillian Leavitt

Wandering, roaming
My alienated life was spent,
Weary and downhearted,
The many years went…
Oh, those great cities
With their avenues and broad streets
Their gigantic looming buildings
Made me yearn for my shtetl, insignificant and sweet.
My beloved shtetl,
Her narrow streets, struggling to survive,
Tiny houses, poor and precious
Crooked graves, wonderfully alive.

Yes, graves! Tugging and beckoning
My heart to the old cemetery,
Oh how many memories
Lay hidden there for me.
Deeply buried, yet
I will unearth them and sing.
Reconnect with the dead
And revel in the joy they bring.

So, I left that great world
Speedily, as if on wings
To my shtetl where I would find
My cradle and other childhood things.

2.

I knew you at once, dearest shtetl.
You hadn't changed very much.
I recognized your streets,
The market stalls that I'd touched.
Oh, how sad you looked now:
Houses grown quite old
Dust filled window panes,
Dark, forlorn and cold.
Khayim Leyzer's house- where is it?
With its balcony wrapping around
Good times, friends, family singing,
Happy laughter, joyous sound.

Ever so rich was Khayim Leyzer,
A true master of his home,
A home well appointed,
Two young daughters of his own.
I recall the oldest, Bayle,
With her large dark eyes.
They emanated laughter,
Always took me by surprise.

I'd often go to that balcony
To sit on a summer's night
With those girls, the beauties,
Mocking, joking, left and right.
Their laughter used to ring out
Like the song of the evening bird,
Oh where are you dear daughters?
Why isn't your laughter heard?

Bad times! Khayim Leyzer
Fell into poverty.
He had to send his daughters
To America, across the sea.
This is what my mother recalled,
Her eyes, red and teary:
"My two happy birdies
Went on a journey, long and weary."
Wringing her hands, she slowly spoke,
"See what's happened to their home,
To that balcony; it all has broke."

3.

Nor did I forget the schoolyard
Where we learned and prayed.
I gazed at it from afar
Because up close I was too afraid…
I recognized the poor children,
Barefoot, ragged, downcast.
Touched by their alienation
My heart spoke out fast:
"Oh you Torah learning children,
I see you through damp eyes spent.
You're not carrying books in wooden yokes
Why are your backs so bent?"

"Which difficult burdens twist
Your backbones which are young still?
Is the Torah too much for you?
Or is it the lack of food that slowly does kill?"
But they never did respond,
Not understanding amidst the humdrum,
Simply staring, eyes wondering:
Where did this stranger's concern come from?
Oh, the poor and orphaned
Have never known anything mild,
Only screams, blows, and beatings,
Not tenderness for a child.

4.

I wanted to see our old shul,
So I entered that special site.
Oh, how warm and friendly
Everyone greeted me that night.
Both the friend and the stranger
Extended his right hand to me
The "Sholem Aleykhem" in his eyes
Was evident and clear to see.
I recognized my poor brethren,
Among them Khayim Bern;
He was my former teacher
With whom I used to learn.
Seeing his deeply wrinkled brow
I asked "How are you, dear Rebbe?
What are you doing these days in shul?
Do you still teach students like me?"
I saw that something was amiss;
My senses felt his message reaching.
Had he become very rich?
Was he, therefore, no longer teaching?

"Dearest Son!" He replied at once
"No, I'm not rich at all,
But yes, I'm no longer teaching,
Our town has taken a fall."
Dearest Son, our fellow Jews
Have had troubles more and more
It's no longer like it used to be
No one cares to study as before.
Nowadays boys just learn
Simple prayers, a few blessings made.
By the time they reach bar mitzvah
They're off to learn a trade.
"So what are you doing dearest Rebbe
How do you earn a living?"
My son, I've sold my little house
And to marriage, my daughter I'm giving.
You recall my little house,
Rundown and a rebuild it did need
Nonetheless my heart aches as I remember
All that happened there, in mind and deed.
Foolish recollections! Yes, I had to sell…
Do you remember my young bride?
Although so many years have passed
Our talk awakens old memories inside…
She really was quite a substantial girl,
But that didn't take care of the table.
Beauty without money
Doesn't make life stable.
Well, for a tradesman, maybe…
"So what do you do daily, dear Rebbe?"
Afternoons, I sip on Kabala…
"No - I mean to make ends meet…"
"Don't ask my son,
Don't worry, fret or rue.
With God's help, I manage
Just as all the others do."

5.

Further into the shul, off in a corner
A boy managed to seclude himself.
With great feeling and great passion
He stood and wrote, as if in stealth.
I looked him over, skin and bones
His cheeks sunken and drawn
Features barely present,
Only eyes sparkling like a fawn
I eased over to him,
Asked, "What are you writing, dear?"
He was embarrassed and frightened
And trembled as I stood near.
"Nothing," he barely answered
"I simply like to draft,
So I make pictures of the great ones."
I pray and do my craft.
At home, it's dark and crowded
Crying babies make drawing unstable,
So I stand here in the shul
And sketch "Cain kills Able".
The doctor saw my work
And on my behalf pled my case
To have me study and learn,
My talent not to waste.
My father simply laughed
At what the good doctor said.
"Send my son to school?
Maybe I should learn to dance instead."

6.

I left the shul sadly.
Grieved, I walked out the door.
Full of heartache, full of worry,
Filled with foolish wishes my heart bore.
I took to walking
On and on… to try to forget
The depth of pain
That into my soul had set.
Profoundly lost in sadness,
I came to the river bank.
Wrapped in an old time shiver
Onto my knees I sank.

"Greetings, Dearest River,
Oh how I've longed for you;
I've stood before mightier waters
But I knew where my heart was true."
Peaceful and quiet is your flow;
There are no waves breaking rounds.
Your ships are rags floating,
Signs of poverty that abounds.
In the summer, in your waters
Anyone can find deep pleasure.
Were you to dry up completely,
Heaven forbid, we'd lose this treasure…
In winter, your waters become icy
Covered with snow are your banks
But I will always love you Dearest River,
Never cease bestowing thanks.
True, I've seen rivers
Where waves toss and heave
Where waters are tough and mighty
But you, I can never leave.

Yes, to you I've always been drawn.
I've stood on your shores with my pain
I've watched the mothers from town
Wash family clothes, and hum a sad refrain.
As I think of my mother,
My eyes fill with tears.
Take them and use them, Dearest River
And you'll stay filled throughout the years…

7.

Coming home to grandfather's
Which was where I laid my head,
Where grandma wanted to greet me
But lectured me instead:
"Where in the world have you been?
Did you totally forget about us?
Did you come back only
To eat, thinking that I wouldn't fuss…?"
"Well, of course I forgive you."
She lovingly added to say:
"A young man wants to roam
To find life in his own way.
I was also young once
And I also loved to play
Oh, the hours I spent walking,
Never tired at the end of a day."
Now… it's over, existing only in memory,
But see, I've over spoken, totally lost in thought
While you stand here starving,
About your hunger I forgot!

How I loved the flavors
Of Grandma's simple meal.
Her schmaltz and radish were quite delicious
No better could I feel.
Laugh if you will, friends
About this very simple fare,
I stand by my taste:
Schmaltz and radish, I do swear!
"A bit of meat…" - grandma added softly,
"Don't worry, don't be concerned.
You'll never find anything so delicious
No matter how much you might have earned."
The butchers complain and argue,
Try to play it safe.
The meat they've prepared for Sabbath
The rabbi has deemed "treyf".
The butchers grumble, common and coarse;
They don't know the laws; they've little schooling.
How can they pretend to be pious
And want to ignore the rabbi's ruling?

8.

Shabbes morning I was off
With my grandfather to shul
To the very same place
Where once with my heart full,
I prayed as a child standing
Next to my father and his prayerbook.
I remember those days with joy
And my heart rejoices as I look
And feel as if God's angels
Were stroking and kissing my face
In this very same shul
In this very same place.
I look up ahead and see the altar
Where the cantor stood and sang,
His woefully sweet voice
Full of prayer to the Almighty rang.

Oh how passionately did that cantor sing,
Assisted simply by one young fellow.
So why is the cantor mournful?
Does he find his assistant too mellow?
Why are his tenor tones straining
In his prayers and devotions?
Perhaps his schnapps was hard to come by
Or did the gabbi short his quotient?
Why does he spread his arms,
As if entreating all who pray and sing?
Perhaps he's lamenting because he knows
The cemetery is what Elul will bring.
Once the cantor ended
Singing his heart out completely
The gabbi started selling
Aliyas fast and sweetly.
Just as always…
Moshe's Torah is being sold
From the high altar
For a ruble, or a little gold.
The sixth Aliya still gets the most
With its sky-high price.
While the Fourth and the Fifth
Take bids that really don't suffice.
And yes, Reb Ber still takes a fancy
To the Sixth, even today
As he walks from the alter
Pompously leading the way,
Patting his round belly
Putting on airs before he takes his seat
As if he were saying:
"Gentlemen, the Sixth Aliya is quite a treat
For me, a man of means.
I am, after all, Reb Ber
And I am all that I seem."
The cobblers and tailors,
Watch him and envy his status and money
Wondering when their time
Will come to also taste a bit of honey.
Why are they fated
To spend their lives in need?
Even the sweetest part of Torah
Can't be theirs to read.

9.

Sunday morning, off I went
To the market, here and there
To look around and observe
How life for my people was unfair.
Yes, that market full of mud
Was what we had been given.
Yet were that muddy market to be lost
To our end, we'd be driven…

Among the many merchants
There was only one I could recognize
Could it really be Rokhel
Who had been both beautiful and wise?
Rokhel, Rokhel, on my word!
I immediately recognized her face.
Although she'd changed quite a bit
It was surely her… without her lace.
I remembered those perfect eyes
Their glances sharp as arrows.
Could this be she standing here?
Those eyes now full of sorrows!
Rokhel - a shopkeeper - tell me how
Did this all happen to you?
You used to read so many books,
Believed good things would come true.

I remember the dreams you entrusted to me
When I walked with you as a boy,
You dreamt of a world full of flowers,
Of a future filled with joy.
How did you come to be here?
Your free, lithe soul covered in armor
As you sit in this dark crowded shop,
Your beautiful eyes, awaiting your farmer…
Your tender voice that used to sing
A sweet romantic song
Is now hoarse and tired
Haggling with customers all day long.

She responded terribly sadly
"The past is gone, as well as the time.
I once was foolish, hoped and believed,
That all I imagined would truly be mine."
My spirit was full, my dreams vast
My heart knew there was nothing I couldn't do
What I didn't know was how
The limits were drawn for me as a Jew…
So the years went quickly by
As I grew older and older
And the passions of a bold girl
Grew steadily colder and colder.

I heard the women in town whispering
About my aging, about my fate.
I felt myself wither more each day.
My heart feared it would soon be late…
I heard it all and silently wept
Vowing to marry quickly before
My youth was completely gone,
Before I had lost it all and more.
Yes, I had to -my good mother
Needed to see the fruits of her life
"To spite our enemies, my darling child,
Become a mother and a wife."
Mother lived to reap the pride and joy
She had waited for so very long
Now, he - works in town by the hour,
And I - keep the shop,
Sweep the flour and sell the flour.

Very little joy, my dearest shtetl,
Did I find in my return.
The little charm you once held for me
Has long ago waned and worn.
I ached and longed for you, from afar.
Finally I returned to see you again,
I found you so much poorer now
Than you were, for me then. ones scream,
So I sit here with this work I hold.