Eastern Europe’s shtetl life
romantically recalled
Fiddler on the Roof
beloved by all
Recreated today
in Boro Park,* modernity! *a neighborhood in Brooklyn, NYC
Come see Chassidim
live, learn and pray
Stroll its streets
Blink twice
Glimpse Europe's past
for half the price
Sex for you is all I have.
Just a simple title.
The chance to give you all I am
just to keep you vital.
A pleasure we could do without
for just a little mettle.
But really who're we running from
We'll just admit to settle.
But wait- there's more to me than words-
there's something in the mettle.
Just what you'd think would please me now-
your comment in the nettle.
But wait- Just words to scare me off
-we're something of a fettle.
When thoughts like these make
thoughts to please- for love within this kettle.
But- I can't see to let you go
for something less than petal.
When all our love brings hope again-
each time you click the shtetl.
But wait- your mouse is all we have
for something more than treadle.
And we all know that we belong-
to much more than the peddle.
So hear me say you're just the one
to hold me on the medal.
When we both know we're both for work-
that clicks more when it's meant all - CLICK!
What will they say,
what about the past,
no travelling, so they say,
where are the clouds, what is left
of time, nothing more was heard.
We say we are alive,
the ocean got its tide, as they call it,
which does not want to miss the beach.
What shall I say about my life?
Was everything a fatamorgana,
a grace of a blind man,
who can see me with his eyes?
An endless silence had set in,
with my face came a second,
melted as if it was rain,
over alleys and houses,
scorched with a red gleam
a cloud is wandering.
Carry my picture from the town,
teach me to dance.