I am Gimpel the fool. I
don't think myself a fool. On the
contrary. But that's what folks
call me. They gave me the name
while I was still in school. I had
seven names in all: imbecile,
donkey, flax-head, dope, glump,
ninny, and fool. The last name
stuck. What did my foolishness
consist of? I was easy to take in.
They said, "Gimpel, you know
the rabbi's wife has been
brought to childbed?" So I
skipped school. Well, it turned
out to be a lie. How was I
supposed to know? She hadn't
had a big belly. But I never
looked at her belly. Was that
really so foolish? The gang
laughed and hee-hawed,
stomped and danced and
chanted a good-night prayer.
And instead of the raisins they
give when a woman's lying in,
they stuffed my hand full of goat
turds. I was no weakling. If I
slapped someone he'd see all
the way to Cracow. But I'm really
not a slugger by nature. I think
to myself: Let it pass. So they
take advantage of me.
I was coming home from
school and heard a dog barking.
I'm not afraid of dogs, but of
course I never want to start up
with them. One of them may be
mad, and if he bites there's not a
Tartar in the world who can help
you. So I made tracks. Then I
looked around and saw the
whole market place wild with
laughter. It was no dog at all but
Wolf-Leib the Thief. How was I
supposed to know it was he? It
sounded like a howling bitch.
When the pranksters and
leg-pullers found that I was easy
to fool, every one of them tried
his luck with me. "Gimpel the
Czar is coming to Frampol;
Gimpel, the moon fell down in
Turbeen; Gimpel, little Hodel
Furpiece found a treasure
behind the bathhouse." And I
like a golem believed everyone.
In the first place, everything is
possible, as it is written in the
