Archive for Elvira Grozinger

“Blumke mayn zhiduvke” Performed by Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman

Posted in Main Collection with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 14, 2017 by yiddishsong

Commentary by Itzik Gottesman.

In the late 1970s, Beyle Schaechter-Gotetsman (BSG) made this recording of Mordkhe Gebirtig’s (1877 – 1942) song Blumke mayn zhiduvke, which is based on a Russian folk motif/theme. She sang it into her cassette recorder in preparation for an afternoon program of Gebirtig songs at the Sholem Aleichem Cultural Center in the Bronx. The song, written as a duet, is one of the lesser known of Gebirtig’s songs and, it seems, has only been recorded twice, both relatively recently – by Manfred Lamm in 2006 on the album Mayn traum/Mayn cholem, and by the singers Mariejan van Oort and Jacques Verheijen in 2003 on the album Mayn Fayfele (click here to hear van Oort and Verheijen’s version).

220px-GebirtigMordkhe Gebirtig

“Blumke” was the first name of Gebirtig’s wife (Blume Lindenbaum). The words and music were reprinted in most of the editions of Gebirtig’s songs, but only in the table of contents of the original edition of his volume Mayne lider  (Krakow 1936) does it add the information: “Rusishe folksmotiv; baarbet fun M. Gebirtig” – “Russian folk motif /theme adapted by M. Gebirtig.” (Thanks to Jeff Warschauer and Deborah Strauss for access to that volume).

BSG learned this song in Chernovitz, Romania, in the 1930s and only a few words in her performance are different from Gebirtig’s original text, so we are attaching the original Yiddish text and melody from the NY 1942 edition of Mayne lider. The Yiddish, the transliteration and the translation will be based on BSG’s slightly different lyrics.

The song has some Polish words: zhiduvka – Jewess/Jewish girl, kruvka – little cow, bozhe – O, God.  The song is briefly discussed in the article “The Relations between Jews and Christians as Reflected in the Yiddish Songs by Mordehaj Gebirtig” by Elvira Grozinger, Scripta Judaica Cracoviensia, vol. 8, 2010.

Blumke, mayn zhiduvke
Okh, zay fun Got gezegnt.
Hostu efsher mayne tsigelekh
ergets vu bagegnt?

Kh’hob zey liber Stakhu,
in ergets nit getrofn.
Akh, vet dikh dayn beyzer tatke
haynt derfar bashtrofn.

Oy, vet dikh dayn beyzer tatke
dikh derfar bashtrofn.

Gekholemt fun dir, sertse,
gezen in feld dikh lign.
Plutslung kuk ikh, akh, vu zenen
mayne vayse tsign?

Efsher, liber Stakhu
S’iz andersh nit tsu klern.
Zenen zey in vald farkrokhn –
oy, dort voynen bern!

Bozhe! Okh, mayn Blumke,
vos zol ikh itst baginen.
Nisht gehitn mayne tsigelekh;
dikh gehat in zinen.

Zay keyn nar, mayn Stakhu,
nit far dir iz Blumke.
Liber nem aroys dayn fayfl,
shpil mir oyf a dumke.

Kh’vel mayn tatns kruvke
un alts vos kh’hob farkoyfn.
Lomir beyde, sheyne Blumke,
Ergets vayt antloyfn.

Zay keyn nar, mayn Stakhu,
Nit farkoyf dayn kruvke!
Zukh dir oys in dorf a goyke –
ikh bin a zhiduvke!

Roytlekh shoyn der himl.
Di zun fargeyt, pavolye.
Akh, vu zent ir, mayne tsigelekh,
kumt baveynt mayn dolye.

Blumke, my Jewish girl/Jewess
O, may God  bless you.
Have you, perhaps,
seen somewhere, my little goat?

I have not, dear Stakhu,
seen them anywhere.
Oh, your mean father
will punish you today for this.

I dreamed of you, my dear,
lying in a field.
Suddenly I look – oh,
where are my white goats?

Maybe, my dear Stakhu –
There can be no other way –
they wandered off into the woods
oh no! Bears live there.

My God! dear Blumke,
Where do I begin.
I did not guard my goats,
I was thinking of you.

Don’t be a fool, dear Stakhu.
You are not destined for Blumke.
Take out your flute
and play for me a dumka.*

I will sell my father’s little cow
and sell all that I have.
Let us, pretty Blumke,
Run away somewhere.

Don’t be a fool, my Stakhu.
Don’t sell your little cow.
Find yourself a non-Jewish girl in the village
I am a Jewish girl.

The sky is reddish,
the sun sets slowly.
O, where are you my little goat,
Come lament my fate.

*diminutive of “dumy” – epic ballads sung by Ukrainian kobzars. In the late 19th and early 20th century Slavic classical composers such as Dvorak were inspired to create classical dumka, “a type of instrumental music involving sudden changes from melancholy to exuberance” (Harvard Concise Dictionary of Music, 1978).

BlumkeScan2

BlumkeScan1

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“Sara troyer” Performed by I. Berkovitch

Posted in Main Collection with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 2, 2012 by yiddishsong

Commentary by Itzik Gottesman

The singer of Sara troyer, a Romanian Yiddish partisan song from the second world war, is the Yiddish poet Israel Berkovitch (Israil Berovici). He was born in 1921 in Botoshan, Moldavia and died in Bucharest in 1988. He directed the Jewish State Theater of Bucharest, a Yiddish theater which still exists, for many years. For more on his life, see Dr. Elvira Grozinger‘s essay from the book Under the Red Banner at this link. His archives are at the University of Potsdam, Germany.

In 1985, I traveled to Romania with my parents to visit ‟the old country‟, and particularly my father‘s hometown Siret. At that time, we still had relatives living in Bucharest and Suceava. While in Bucharest we were able to get together with some of the Yiddish writers and activists living there then: writer Chaim Goldenstein, journalist and translator Anton Celaru (Yosl Faierstein) and Israel Berkovitch. At one get-together, I believe at the Berkovitches apartment, I asked if someone knew Yiddish songs, and Berkovitch took me to a back room, so no one else would hear, and sang this song for me. Ceausescu was still the dictator then, and everyone in Bucharest was very wary of everything, so I guess he didn‘t want others to know about the song. I have not found any other information on the song or variants.

Sara troyer in di Moldavishe stepn.

Sara troyer in di Moldavishe stepn.
Vi umetik un troyerik s‘iz dort.
Es benkt un es veynt zikh nokh epes,
tor me nisht redn keyn vort.

Such a sadness in the Moldavian steppes.
How lonesome and gloomy it is there.
One longs and cries for something,
but not one word is allowed to be spoken.

Teg un nekht zenen tribe.
Es busheven zhandarmen, politsay.
Akh! Basarabye mayn libe!
Ven vestu zayn amol fray?

The days and nights are sad,
Gendarmes and police run rampant.
Oh! My dear Bessarabia!
When will you ever by free?