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Memorial Meeting Here for Bialik

At the hour that Palestinian Jewry will be gathering for the funeral in Tel Aviv of Chaim Nachman Bialik, Hebrew poet laureate who died in Vienna on July 4, the Jews of New York under the auspices of the Zionist Organization of America will gather at Carnegie Hall Monday evening to mourn the death of the man who is said, through his poetry, to have changed the national character of the Jews of Europe.

Speakers who will participate in the memorial exercises on behalf of American Jewish organizations include Morris Rothenberg, President of the Zionist Organization of America; Louis Lipsky, chairman of the American Palestine Campaign; Chaim Greenberg, editor of Der Kaempfer; Berl Locker, Laborite member of the World Zionist Executive; Joseph Sprinzak, representative of the Histadruth, Central Labor Federation of Palestine; Rose W. Halprin, president of Hadassah; Rabbi Israel Goldstein, president of the Jewish National Fund of America; Menahem Ribalow, editor of the Hadoar, Abraham Goldberg, and Professor Nissim Touroff.

In addition to the speakers, Cantor David Putterman will recite the “Hazkara,” traditional Hebrew chant for the dead. Miriam Ellis, well-known Jewish actress, will recite, in the original Hebrew, one of Bialik’s last poems called “When I Am Dead.” The English translation of the poem is as follows:

It is great pity, all her days this string,

Panting in silence, trembles for her song;

And for her love to rescue she may yearn, Desire and long,

As the heart throbs for the invited guest,

And if he tarry she waits endless days,

To weep with hidden sighs that he comes not, But still delays.

Now is there vexation to dismay, There lived a man, and see, he is no more, For in the middle day His song of life was rent,

Yet he had one song, one ballad more,

And now that song is lost, and lost for aye.

When I am dead, mourn thus for me and say:

There lived a man, and see, he is no more; Timeless to death he went, And in the middle day His song of life was rent;

Ah! pity, for he had yet one song more,

And now that song is lost, and lost for aye.

Ah! pity, for he had a harp—a soul

To live and speak; and as the singer spanned

The secrets of his heart therewith, the strings Spoke ‘neath his hand.

But of his secrets one was hid in heart,

His fingers skimmed about it and around,

One string was left for dumb, and till this day It gives no sound.

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