המלצה לשיר על תקופת חורבן יהדות אירופה

-LIGA · 10/6/19

שיר עם מילים (לא פסוק בלבד).
תודה רבה.

אהרן שטיימן · 10/6/19

טרבלינקה - יהודה דים

-LIGA · 10/6/19

תודה רבה, מחפשת עוד בסגנון הזה.

LIBBI · 10/6/19

באנגלית עוזר???
גד אלבז - שלא יכבה נרו (אנגלית)

יש לי עוד סגנונות של שירי רגש חמים אבל לא ספציפית על השואה עם תרצו אני יכולה לעלות.

רבקושש · 10/6/19

לא יודעת כמה יעזור לך
אבל שיר שאני אוהבת

-

אהרן שטיימן · 10/6/19

כמדומני שליעקב שוואקי יש את השיר - שמע ישראל
הוא באנגלית, וזכור לי שזה מדבר על השואה

יוסף יצחק פרקש · 10/6/19

''אם יש את נפשך'' - אהרן רזאל

אלי7 א · 10/6/19

נכתב ע"י אהרן ש.:
כמדומני שליעקב שוואקי יש את השיר - שמע ישראל
הוא באנגלית, וזכור לי שזה מדבר על השואה

אחד השירים היפים
ויש לו גם קליפ
זה על הרב כהנמן-לא בטוחה שזה על השואה- כמו על אחרי השואה

-LIGA · 10/6/19

נכתב ע"י LIBBI:
יש לי עוד סגנונות של שירי רגש חמים אבל לא ספציפית על השואה עם תרצו אני יכולה לעלות.

לא חייב להיות ספציפית על השואה, יכול להיות כל חורבן, כאב, וכו'

מאשקע · 10/6/19

אני מאמין... בביאת המשיח...
(השיר הידוע שהולחן בשואה..)

רבקושש · 10/6/19

נכתב ע"י malkad:
לא חייב להיות ספציפית על השואה, יכול להיות כל חורבן, כאב, וכו'

יש לך המון של יום טוב ארליך ואם באידיש אז בכלל...

אוריגמי · 10/6/19

נכתב ע"י malkad:
לא חייב להיות ספציפית על השואה, יכול להיות כל חורבן, כאב, וכו'

עוזר לך באנגלית?
יש הרבה של journeys:
הדמעה, זכרונות, ספר התורה, ועוד. שירים מיוחדים אחד אחד.
ואולי מישהו תרגם אותם?

-LIGA · 10/6/19

נכתב ע"י אוריגמי:
עוזר לך באנגלית?
יש הרבה של journeys:

יש מצב להעלות לכאן?

netanel10 · 10/6/19

נכתב ע"י אהרן ש.:
כמדומני שליעקב שוואקי יש את השיר - שמע ישראל
הוא באנגלית, וזכור לי שזה מדבר על השואה

מה שרציתי להציע

יש גם את טאטע ויזכרם של שוואקי
ויש גם את השיר "קהילות הקודש" וכו'

אוריגמי · 11/6/19

נכתב ע"י malkad:
יש מצב להעלות לכאן?

מצרפת 4 שירים שיכולים להתאים
מילים לשיר memories מופיעות כאן: https://www.prog.co.il/threads/השיקצע-ומכחישי-השואה.440849/page-5#post-6415406

Teardrop
In a one room apartment, somewhere out in the city,
A story of magic unfolds.
There lived a widow, without any children,
Abandoned, forgotten, alone.

She lived with the memories, of barbed wire fences,
The darkness invading her dreams.
Oh, if ever a woman and reason to cry,
Then surely the woman was she.

But never did she shed a tear,
She asked for no answers, had nothing to fear.
G-d's love is but hidden, in time we'll know why.
But today there's no reason, no reason to cry.

Well, it happened one Friday, there just was no money,
The table, bare, covered in white.
But she found a few pennies, and bought a small candle,
Her Shabbos would still have its light.

And she lit the lone candle, recited the Brocha,
The deepest of joys in her heart.
When a gust of wind blew, through a crack in the window,
The flame, once so bright, had gone dark.

This time the pain was so great,
She tried to hold back - but it was too late.
"Where has my faith gone?" she said with a sigh,
As a small teardrop formed on the edge of her eye.

It rolled down her cheek, heading straight for the candle,
As if with a mind of its own.
Touching the wick, the drop burst out in flames,
Once more, there was light in her home.

No more could she hold back her tears,
She cried out the sorrow of so many years.
G-d's love is but hidden, in time we'll know why -
But the heavens had told her, "It's all right to cry."

the Man from Vilna
I met a man last Sunday; he was on his way back home
From a wedding in Chicago, and was traveling alone
He said he came from Vilna, a survivor I could tell
And I helped him with his suitcase
He could not walk very well
A steward gave us coffee as we settled on the plane
I asked him why he bothers - at his age there'd be no blame
"No simcha is a burden, although I miss my dear late wife"
And then he shared with me the story that has changed my view of life

He danced round and round in circles as if the world had done no wrong
From evening until morning, filling up the shul with song
Though we had no sifrei torah to clutch close to our hearts
In their place, we held the future, of a past so torn apart

I remember liberation, joy and fear both intertwined
Where to go, and what to do, and how to leave the pain behind
My heart said "Go to Vilna", dare I pray yet once again
For the chance to find a loved one, or perhaps a childhood friend?
It took many months to get there, from the late spring to the fall
And as I, many others, close to four hundred in all
And slowly there was healing, darkened souls now mixed with light
When someone proudly cried out, Simchas Torah is tonight

We danced round and round in circles as if the world had done no wrong
From evening until morning, filling up the shul with song
Though we had no sifrei torah to clutch close to our hearts
In their place, we held the future, of a past so torn apart

We ran as one towards the shul, our spirits in a trance
We tore apart the barricade, in defiance we would dance
But the scene before our eyes shook us to the core
Scraps of siddur, bullet holes, and bloodstains on the floor
Turning to the eastern wall, we looked on in despair
There'd be no scrolls to dance with, the Holy Ark was bare
Then we heard two children crying, a boy and girl who no one knew
We realized no children were among us but those two

We danced round and round in circles as if the world had done no wrong
From evening until morning, filling up the shul with song
Though we had no sifrei torah to gather in our arms
In their place, we held those children
The Jewish people would live on

We danced round and round in circles as if the world had done no wrong
From evening until morning, filling up the shul with song
Though we had no sifrei torah to clutch and hold up high
In their place, we held those children
Am Yisrael Chai

We danced round and round in circles as if the world had done no wrong
From evening until morning, filling up the shul with song
Though we had no sifrei torah to gather in our arms
In their place, we held those children
The Jewish people would live on
Am Yisrael Chai
The Jewish people would live on
The Jewish people will live on

the Place Where I Belong
I was made way back in 1842,
By a humble man, a real G-d fearing Jew.
Who did his work with honesty, feeling and with pride,
He was known in Kiev as Yankele the Scribe.

With loving care, his hand so sure and still,
He formed me with some parchment, ink and quill.
Each day he'd slowly add to me just a few more lines,
With words to last until the end of time.

And on the day that I was finally complete,
The whole town came and filled the narrow street.
And they sang and danced and held me high and carried me away,
To the little wooden Shul where I would stay.

And as the Rabbi held me close against his chest,
He spoke out loud and clear to all the rest.
He said, "No matter if you're very young, or even if you're old,
Live by the words you'll find inside this scroll."

Three days a week they read from me out loud,
It filled my soul with joy, it made me proud.
They followed each and every verse with fire in their eyes,
The words that told them how to live their lives.

I watched the generations come and go,
I saw the old men die, the children grow.
But never in a century, did I miss my turn once,
For the fathers, they had left me with their sons.

But the hatred from the west came to Kiev,
And they rounded up the Jews who had not fled,
But Moishele the Shammos, he was brave and he was bold,
He hid me in his cellar, dark and cold.

And for years and years I waited all alone,
For the people of my town to take me home,
And they'd sing and dance and hold me high when they carried me away,
To my little wooden shul where I would stay.

But it was someone else who found my hiding place,
And to America he sent me in a crate.
And the men who took me off the boat, they said I was a prize.
But they were Jews I did not recognize.

And in a case of glass they put me on display,
Where visitors would look at me and say,
"How very nice, how beautiful, a stunning work of art,"
But they knew not what was inside my heart.

And across the room I saw upon the shelf,
Some old friends of mine who lived back in Kiev.
A silver pair of candlesticks, a menorah made of brass,
We'd all become mere echoes of the past.

So if you hear my voice, why don't you come along,
And take me to the place where I belong,
And maybe even sing and dance when you carry me away,
To some little wooden shul where I could stay.

And as the Rabbi holds me close against his chest,
He'll speak out loud and clear to all the rest.
He'll say, "No matter if you're very young, or even if you're old,
Live by the words you'll find inside this scroll."
Live by the words you'll find inside my soul.

-LIGA · 11/6/19

@אוריגמי ממש תודה!!

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