The trees rustle, the sky blazes and burns;

Jews lie around, [killed] by murderous hands.

Oh woe, oh how can it be,

dear God, why are you silent?

​

Have mercy already,

re’ey adoynoy [see, Lord],

take a look from above,

a glance at your Jews,

put an end to the slaughter

and let it be enough.

Little tiny children from the other side of

the river,

they cry, they scream: “Take us in,

we’ll be satisfied with a little piece of bread,

as long as we don’t meet that

terrible death.”

​

Little tiny children

right off their mother’s breast,

They are chopped, they are crashed,

they are thrown onto the garbage heap.

​

Frail dear old Jews with grey beards,

they chop them,

they throw them to the ground.

Oh woe, oh how can it be…

​

On the roads from the collective farms

and everywhere,

Jews lie around,

no one knows where they perish.

Oh woe, oh how can it be…

​

In the Jewish cemetery blows a cold

harsh wind;

Jews lie around like dogs.

​

Oh woe, oh how can it be…