My Sukkaleh

A Yiddish Song of Sukkot

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Yiddish:

A sooke a klaine
Foon bretlech gemaine
Hob ich koim mit tzores gemacht;
Gedekt dem dach, 
mit a bisele schach
Un ch'zitz in der sooke bai nacht. 

Mit farzorgten gezicht
Dos ershte gericht
Es trogt mir mein veib bald arein;
Zi shtelt zich avek
Un zogt mit shrek
Der vint varft dee sooke bald ein!

Fun vint dem kaltn
Vos blozt duch di shpaltn
Mein lichtele leshn zich veel
Doch mach ich mir kiddush
Un -- zet nor dem chidush--
Mein lichtl brent roo-eek oon shteel.

Version:

A sukkaleh, quite small, Wooden planks for each wall; Lovingly I stood them upright. I laid thatch as a ceiling And now, filled with deep feeling, I sit in my sukkaleh at night. A chill wind attacks, Blowing through the cracks; The candles, they flicker and yearn. It's so strange a thing That as the Kiddush I sing, The flames, calmed, now quietly burn. In comes my daughter, Bearing hot food and water; Worry on her face like a pall. She just stands there shaking And, her voice nearly breaking, Says "Tattenyu, the sukkah's going to fall!" Dear daughter, don't fret; It hasn't fallen yet. The sukkah's fine; banish your fright. There have been many such fears, For nigh two thousand years; Yet the sukkeleh's still standing upright.

My Sukkahleh is small, not fancy at all,
but is specially dear to me.
Schach I threw on a bit, hoping to cover it,
there I'd sit and think.

The wind was a cold one, the cracked walls were old ones,
the candles were flickering low.
At times as if dying, but suddenly rising,
as if they did not want to go.

My sweet little daughter sensing the danger,
got scared and started to cry.
Father, she cried, don't stay there outside,
the Sukkah is going to fall!

Fear not my child, it's been quite a while,
the Sukkahleh still stands strong.
The wind has been worse, my dear, but it's almost 2000 years,
yet the Sukkahleh still stands strong!

Version:

A Sukkaleh, quite small, wooden planks for each wall;
Lovingly I stood them upright.
I laid thatch as a ceiling and now, filled with deep feeling,
I sit in my Sukkaleh at night.

A chill wind attacks, blowing through the cracks;
The candles, they flicker and yearn.
It's so strange a thing that as the Kiddush I sing,
The flames, calmed, now quietly burn.

In comes my daughter, bearing hot food and water;
Worry on her face like a pall.
She just stands there shaking and, her voice nearly breaking,
Says "Tattenyu, the sukkah's going to fall!"

Dear daughter, don't fret; it hasn't fallen yet.
The Sukkah will be fine, understand.
There have been many such fears, For nigh two thousand years;
Yet the Sukkahleh continues to stand. 

Now I'm looking through my music for the manuscript.

And now for the personal story behind the poem. Some years ago, my wife and I were visiting Prague. On the second day of Sukkot, we attended services at the the Jubilee Synagogue on Jerusalem Street,-- a beautiful impressive edifice in the traditional European house of worship style, with as many as perhaps a thousand seats. There was just about a minyan men and a few women for the holiday service. Among them, and I don't recall whether he was counted for the minyan, was a non-Jew who introduced himself as playwrite who was working on the Schindler List, on the way to Israel. There was a kiddush in the sukkah following the service. We were seated around the table with the leaders of the community present, when a woman, not known to the others, asked permission to sing a Yiddish song appropriate for the occasion. She was of course welcomed, and in a plaintive, somewhat broken voice, she rendered this song, which I then heard for the first time. She was a holocaust survivor.

To hear the song in that setting, while remembering what took place in Prague decades ago, the words and the melody assumed so much meaning, touching us ever so deeply and continue to do so to the present day, as we sit in our Sooke in Jerusalem. Here is a partial rendition in English:

The little Sooke, as I sit in it at night...  While the winds threaten to break it all down and snuff out our little candle...  I recite my kiddush, and lo what a miracle! My candle burns bright and secure...

gershon winer