You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you dies each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason.Ernest Hemingway
By the wayside stands a bent tree; All the birds have flown away, And the tree stands deserted. Turn toward the west, turn toward the east, And the rest--turn toward the south, And the tree is abandoned to the storm. I say to momma--"Listen, If you don't stand in my way, Then, one--two, I'll quickly become a bird. I'll sit in the tree And lull it during the winter and comfort it With a lovely tune." And momma says, "No, child," And weeps bitter tears. "G-d forbid, you might freeze in the tree." So I say, "Momma, it's a waste of your lovely eyes, Because before you know it,I'll be a bird." And momma cries, and says "Itzik, my Crown, As G-d would want, take a scarf with you, Lest you catch cold. "Put on your galoshes, It will be a severe winter. And take your fur hat, too. Woe is me! "And wear you warm underwear, foolish child, Lest you become a guest of the dead." I lift my wing, but it's hard... Too many things, too many things Has momma put on her weak little fledgling. I look sadly into my momma's eyes; Her love did not allow me to become a bird. By the wayside stands a bent tree. All the birds have flown away, And the tree stands deserted.
- May the road rise with you.
By the wayside stands a bent tree; All the birds have flown away, And the tree stands deserted. Turn toward the west, turn toward the east, And the rest--turn toward the south, And the tree is abandoned to the storm. I say to momma--"Listen, If you don't stand in my way, Then, one--two, I'll quickly become a bird. I'll sit in the tree And lull it during the winter and comfort it With a lovely tune." And momma says, "No, child," And weeps bitter tears. "G-d forbid, you might freeze in the tree." So I say, "Momma, it's a waste of your lovely eyes, Because before you know it,I'll be a bird." And momma cries, and says "Itzik, my Crown, As G-d would want, take a scarf with you, Lest you catch cold. "Put on your galoshes, It will be a severe winter. And take your fur hat, too. Woe is me! "And wear you warm underwear, foolish child, Lest you become a guest of the dead." I lift my wing, but it's hard... Too many things, too many things Has momma put on her weak little fledgling. I look sadly into my momma's eyes; Her love did not allow me to become a bird. By the wayside stands a bent tree. All the birds have flown away, And the tree stands deserted.
- May the road rise with you.
- Category
- Classical
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