The abyss yawns, the waves bellow, the shipladders crack, the storm rages madly, the winds whistle,--and finally one says in tears: "The black cemetery is not our mother, the grave has not been our cradle; a good angel has borne us, a dear mother, endowed with love. "Es hāt uns gepjestet a Mame, erzōgen A zärtliche, wareme, freundliche Brust; Gekichelt un' ständig gekuckt in die Äugen Hāt uns äuch a Vāter, un' lieblich gekusst. "Mir hāben a Haus, nor män hāt sie zubrochen, Un' unsere hēiligste Sachen varbrennt, Die Liebste un' Beste varwandelt in Knochen, Die Letzte varjāgt mit gebundene Händ'. "Män kenn' unser Land, o, sie lāsst sich derkennen: Durch Jāgen, durch Schlāgen nit werendig müd', Durch wilde Pogromen, durch Brechen, durch Brennen, Durch Suchen dem Tōdt far dem elenden Jüd. "Un' mir seinen Jüden, varwogelte Jüden, Ohn' Freund un' ohn' Frēuden, ohn' Hoffnung auf Glück.-- Nit frägt mehr, o, frägt nit, o, seht, lāsst zufrieden! Amerika treibt uns nāch Russland zurück, "Nāch Russland, vun wannen mir seinen antloffen, Nāch Russland derfar, wās mir hāben kēin Geld; Auf wās bleibt uns itzter zu warten, zu hoffen? Wās täug' uns dās Leben, die finstere Welt? "Ihr hā't wās zu wēinen, ihr hā't wās zu brummen, Ihr hā't wās zu schrecken sich itzt far dem Tōdt, Ihr hā't gewiss Alle a Hēim, wu zu kummen, Un' fāhrt vun Amerika äuch nit aus Nōt. "Doch mir seinen Elende, gleich zu die Stēiner: Die Erd' is' zu schlecht, uns zu schenken an Ort-- Mir fāhren, doch leider, es wart't auf uns Kēiner, Erklärt mir, ich bet' euch, wu reisen mir fort! "A mother has fondled us, a tender, warm, friendly breast has nurtured us; a father, too, has stroked us and looked into our eyes, and kissed us tenderly. "We have a house, but it has been destroyed, and our holy things have been burned; our dearest and best have been turned into bones, and those who survive have been driven away with fettered hands. "You know our country; it is easily recognized by its unceasing baiting and beating, by its cruel riots, its ruthless destruction, and dealing death to the wretched Jew. "Yes, we are Jews, miserable Jews, without friends or joys, without hopes or happiness. Oh, ask us no more, ask no more, oh, leave us in peace! America drives us back to Russia, "To Russia, whence we have run away, to Russia, because we have no money. What is there left for us to expect, to hope for? Of what good is life, and the gloomy world to us? "You have something to weep for; you have reason to murmur and to be afraid of Death! You have, no doubt, a home where to go to, and you have left America not from necessity. "But we are forlorn and alone like a rock. Earth is too mean to give us a resting-place; we are voyaging, but, unfortunately, no one waits for us. Explain to me, pray, whither we are bound!