The Partisan Song (or Partizaner Lid) is the name of a Yiddish song considered one of the chief anthems of Shoah survivors. The lyrics of the song were written in 1943 by Hirsh Glick, a young Jewish inmate of the Vilna Ghetto. The title means "Never Say", and derives from the first line of the song, "Never say that you have reached the final road." During World War II, "Zog Nit Keynmol" was adopted by a number of Jewish partisan groups operating in Eastern Europe. It became a symbol of resistance against the Nazis. Hirsch was inspired to write the song by news of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.
Zog nit keyn mol, az du geyst dem letstn veg, himlen blayene farshteln bloye teg. kumen vet nokh undzer oysgebenkte sho, s'vet a poyk ton undzer trot: mir zaynen do! fun grinem palmenland biz vaysn land fun shney, mir kumen on mit undzer payn, mit undzer vey, un vu gefaln s'iz a shprits fun undzer blut, shprotsn vet dort undzer gvure, undzer mut! s'vet di morgnzun bagildn undz dem haynt, un der nekhtn vet farshvindn mit dem faynt, nor oyb farzamen vet di zun in der kayor – vi a parol zol geyn dos lid fun dor tsu dor. dos lid geshribn iz mit blut, un nit mit blay, s'iz nit keyn lidl fun a faygl oyf der fray, dos hot a folk tsvishn falndike vent dos lid gezungen mit naganes in di hent. to zog nit keyn mol, az du geyst dem letstn veg, himlen blayene farshteln bloye teg. kumen vet nokh undzer oysgebenkte sho – s'vet a poyk ton undzer trot: mir zaynen do!
Never say this is the final road for you, Though leaden skies may cover over days of blue. As the hour that we longed for is so near, Our step beats out the message: we are here! From lands so green with palms to lands all white with snow. We shall be coming with our anguish and our woe, And where a spurt of our blood fell on the earth, There our courage and our spirit have rebirth! The early morning sun will brighten our day, And yesterday with our foe will fade away, But if the sun delays and in the east remains – This song as motto generations must remain. This song was written with our blood and not with lead, It's not a little tune that birds sing overhead, This song a people sang amid collapsing walls, With pistols in hand they heeded to the call. Therefore never say the road now ends for you, Though leaden skies may cover over days of blue. As the hour that we longed for is so near, Our step beats out the message: we are here!
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