A few hours from Warsaw
Among the snowy hills of Poland
And there for generations my family lives
And there are seamstresses, and there are writers, and there are also a few butchers
Where the Rebbe sits with all the Hasidim.
And there they laugh, and there they dance
And there is a tradition in my Siedlce,
A town of Jews.
And when I was in Treblinka,
Between the stones,
I put a flower on the stone
Of my Siedlce.
It’s a song full of longing
To a town I did not have the privilege of growing in
To a family I did not get to know.
May God have mercy on us