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[Pages 550-553]

My Eyes, Tears Fall From My Eyes

by A. Feldberger

In deep sorrow, with broken hearts, we recall for you and mourn your gruesome death, dear parents, brothers and sisters, relatives, friends–Jews from the town of Wolomin.

Old people, weak and innocent children, whose only sin was carrying the name of Jew, their membership in the holy Jewish people.

Surrounded by bloody–minded enemies, there was no one to help you, to protect you in the last days of your lives.

Your pure souls will remain consecrated in our hearts, engraved in our memories.

Dear and holy remains the figure of R. Yechezkel Feldberger, a great Torah scholar and fearer of Heaven who also enjoyed his work. He had a little factory for making brooms, plus a shop, from which he made a living and supported his family.

Gifted with virtues and good qualities, he radiated the quality of trust, and in his soul shone a genteel joy that always illuminated his face like a newly dawned day and brightened those who came near him.

A quiet bliss shone from him even in bad times. He believed that the Creator's mercies were spread over all the Jews.

On weekdays, sitting at his work table, he composed songs and rhymes that he would sing on joyous occasions.

On Shabbos he would sing out deeply felt melodies touched with nostalgic joy that would elevate his listeners' souls, calling forth a sea of love, love of God and love for Israel.

R. Yechezkel translated the Shabbos and Shabbos–ending songs into Yiddish, in rhyme. So he also translated numerous piyyutim.

Even today people sing those Yiddish translations of songs and piyyutim in different cities of the world, where Jews from Wolomin have settled.

Industrious, and beset with the problems of earning a living, still there always dwelt within him a religiously inspired hope for a better time, for a time when all would be good. Those who knew him well felt that an ever–present joy vibrated through his veins, like the strings on a violin. The movement of a finger would bring forth music that traveled from heart to heart.

Modest and respected was R. Yechezkel's wife, Zipporah–Reizel, the daughter of R. Reuben Rozenzweig of Rika, one of the finest people produced by the Jewish communities in all of Poland. He was a giant in Torah and Chasidism. His son, Rabbi Yakov–Yehuda Rozenzweig was the Yezherner rabbi.

The Feldberger's oldest daughter, Bracha, was a Goldnodl after her marriage. She lived in Lublin. At a young age, before the war, she became a widow. She and her three children were killed by Hitler's killers..

Their second daughter, Maleh–Freida, married Rabbi Yerucham–Yisroel–Mayer Skurnik, from Shedletz, who became a rabbinical judge in Prague, with Rabbi Yakov Zilbershteyn. Later he was in Vahin, near Rodzin.

They had four children, who were killed with them.

The son, Rabbi Yakov–Yitzchak Feldberger, was one of the best students in the Lubavitch yeshiva in Warsaw. He was a very virtuous person and received rabbinic ordination in the Warsaw and Lublin rabbinates. He married Feige, the daughter of R. Yakov Rachman of Warsaw. They were killed together with their five children.

A son, Ezriel, who in 1934 made aliyah to Israel together with his wife Shifra from Nashelsk and they live today in Petach–Tikvah.

The son Eliezer, a student in the Lubavitch yeshiva, thanks to his excellent insights and proficiency in the Talmud and the commentators, was accepted as a student in the Lublin yeshiva. He managed to live through the hard times of the Second World War and lives today in America, where he is a rabbi in Cleveland.

Just a few survivors of a large, meritorious family, large–souled, always prepared to do mitzvos and good deeds. R. Yechezkel was one of the community leaders before the war's outbreak. In 1942, on the sixth of Nisan, he died in the Warsaw Ghetto. His wife, two daughters, his son, and their families were killed in that horrifying time that came upon the Jewish people.

May God avenge their blood and may their memories be blessed.

[He appends some of R. Feldberger's Yiddish translations of zmirot.]

[Page 554]

Woe for the loss!

by Dr. Sara Mandelberg

Translated by Sara Mages

In the landscape of Wolomin was a picturesque family, the Goldstein family. Many factors, intellectual and spiritual, shaped this life that perished in the terrible Holocaust. The family of David and Sima Goldstein belonged to the town's dignitaries. They made a living from a housewares and kitchen store. Not only Jews, but also peasants from the area, were among their admirers. They shopped at their store because of their honest attitude towards the buyers, their devotion to each person, and their warm heart that never disappointed their friends.

The sense of inner nobility has left its mark on their whole being. In the most difficult moments the smile did not leave their pleasant faces.


David Goldstein (left) at a Wolomin Merchants' Association party


David and Sima established a beautiful generation. They had three sons: Avraham, Yakov and Chaim, and two daughters: Miriam and Zipora.

They were all blond, handsome and clean, and served as an educational role model for others.

The fate of the family: The parents David and Sima, the children Avraham and Miriam, were murdered by the Nazis.

Survived: the youngest son, Haim, is now in America. The youngest daughter Zipora, now Feigelman, lives in Haifa.

After the Holocaust, which passed in such a bitter cruelty over our heads, fathers and sons were separated from each other. Brothers and sisters were uprooted from each other. The connection of thousands of families was torn to pieces, and their roots were uprooted and destroyed - in these lines we will deepen their memory in our hearts.

[Page 555]

“How Does the City Sit Solitary” Wolomin

by S. Vinagara

How did this happen, my shtetl?
For so many generations you lived in Poland
until Hitler made it free of Jews,
annihilated it, destroyed it with fire and blaze.

Wolomin, my Jewish town,
you lived by struggle, with trust and courage,
Shabbos you celebrated in. Holy light,
as home, street, market all rested.

Every day, fathers and grandfathers
hurried on their way
in the early morning to the beis-medresh
to pour out their hearts in prayer to God.

Until the that terrible September arrived,
Elul, when even the fish in the water trembled
on those fearful days, shattered with shofar sounds
and with the sound of bombs.

The German hordes filled the streets
and every heart felt confused.
then Jews headed toward the shul.
Fear made everything seem dark.

[Page 556]

Quickly came that dark day
when Jewish homes were closed and destroyed.
Flames leapt from the shul
as the fire burned and crackled.

In the flames of agony, Wolomin's Jews
in their last rush
cried out that woe like heroes,
their fiery prayers rising toward heaven.

Laden down with woe
but keeping their Jewish pride,
true to their faith, like heroes,
murdered as holy martyrs.


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