Thursday, April 28, 2016


In an old dark tenement, desolate as a tomb,
Where everything one sees is sad and empty,
There on the fourth floor you can still hear, from the clattering,
That there one finds nothing other than a dismal tailor shop
Visages pale and exhausted, bloodless,
They're sitting in their places absolutely lifeless
They're running the machines with all their might
And they're all singing this song in their minds:

"The children are naked, my wife's sick and weak,
There's not a cent in my pocket, there's nothing in the house."
On each face is imprinted an expression that would move a stone
And the noisy machine accompanies the song in rhythm

Thus one sits for one's brief life, tailoring,
Or by some other kind of self-slavery...
Oh, worker, wake up already from your long sleep
And make an end to this, already. An end!
Free yourself from this heavy yoke, throw off the chains.
Wake up, worker, and show your might, your strength!
Then no longer will you have to be tired of life,
And in your mind you won't any longer be humming a song like this: (chorus)

Therefore enslaved worker, stand up, each of you equally,
And abolish and make an end to "poor and rich"
Race or nation shouldn't make any difference to you.
Raise up the red flag, let it flutter,
Then you won't need to be anyone's servant any longer.
Each of you will have joy equally from everything that's right.
Then you'll be peaceful and happy and live "solid."

And in your mind you won't any longer be singing a song like: (chorus)

Democracy and Class Struggle remembers the revolutionary Jewish Labour movement with the song above.

Red salute to the Jewish comrades who fought the Zionists and the Nazis.

Long ago Columbus found a golden land.
Now we suffer within it -- and we have him to thank!
Take a look out in the dampness and see: the suffering is so great
Workers, the masses, they die for lack of a piece of bread
They die from the bitter layoffs, there's no way to earn a cent
The suffering, hunger, cold, and being turned out in the street by the landlord when you can't pay your rent!

Oh, when will the time come when the worker will be free from troubles?
Slaving away through the years, working hard, every penny costs you a tear
Worker, when will you be free?

You suffer year in, year out, especially when there isn't much work.
And as soon as you manage to save a little, the bank robs it away.
You look like a vagabond, your rights are stolen
You toil in the shops, you're a slave.
You make others rich, you have nothing for yourself.
You just slave away, you're always ?
Lift your head and throw off the yoke, there must be an end to this misery!

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