Siete días encerrados en vagones de behemás; una vez, a los tres días, mos kitaban a airear. Madre mía, mi kerida, tú tuvites el zehut de murirte en tus tierras y no pasastes por el oluk. Padre mío, mi kerido, quién te lo ía decir? ke vinieras kon tu hermano al krematorio de Aushwitz. Padre, madre, hermanos y hermanikas, saliendo todos reĝaĝís, a el Patrón del mundo, ke envie salud a mí, ke me quite de estos kampos para vos echar kadish.
Seven days shut inside
in wagons of cattle;
once, on the third day,
they took us out for air. My mother, my beloved,
you had the zechut
to die in your own land
and not pass through the suffering. My father, my beloved,
who would have told you?
that you would come with your brother
to the crematorium of Auschwitz. Father, mother, brothers and sisters,
come out and give prayer,
to the Master of the world,
may He send health to me,
may He take me from these camps
so I may recite kaddish for you.
Jerusalem National Sound Archives placement: Y5812c/2 Referenced and notated in: En Buen Siman, Panorama del repertoorio Musical Sefardi, pg. 137, Pardes Publishing House, 2006 One of the few songs in Ladino composed during the Holocost. The text was written by David Haim, a Holocost survivor who composed this poem while working at the crematorium of the extermination camp of Aushwitz-Birkenau. When Dr. Susana Weich-Shahak recorded him in Tel-Aviv in 1986, he named a companion by the name of Yaakov, a musician who was with him in the camps, who adapted his words to a wedding song from his repertiore. This text focuses on the suffering endured in the train to Auschwitz, recalls family members - some of whom were murdered there, and pleads with his departed relatives to intercede before the Lord of the Universe, praying that he might be released so that he can recite the traditional Kaddish for the dead.
This website was created by Orit Perlman with the collaboration and blessings of Dr. Susana Weich-Shahak in 2025