Gur in eyn fintsterer nakht / In a Dark Night Performed by Goldie Rosenbaum-Miller

Gur in eyn fintsterer nakht / In a dark night
Sung by Goldie Rosenbaum-Miller, Recorded by Michael Kroopkin, Chicago 1965.

photo: “Goldie (left) and sister Hyala Rosenbaum

COMMENTARY BY ITZIK GOTTESMAN

For biographical information on the singer Goldie Rosenbaum-Miller, see the previous post at this link.

Most Yiddish love songs are three, four, maybe five verses long, but here we have a ten verse lyrical love song. Some of the Yiddish lines do not make sense to me (“God, show us your nap”?)  We welcome suggestions for other interpretations. Eliezer Niborski helped clarify some lines and suggested corrections in brackets. 

Though some of the verses are confusing, Rosenbaum-Miller sings with much self-assuredness in an old, slow Yiddish folksong style.  

The two word spoken conclusion “Ende libe”, (“the end of the romance”) implies a ballad-like plot was at play during the performance of this song, but many verses can be found in other Yiddish lyrical love songs.

Thanks again to Rosenbaum-Miller’s great granddaughter Debbie Kroopkin for bringing the home recordings of Goldie Rosenbaum-Miller to the attention of Binyumin Schaechter, longtime conductor of the NYC based Yiddish Philharmonic Chorus.

Gur in eyn fintsterer nakht
Sung by Goldie Rosenbaum-Miller

1) Gur in eyn fintsterer nakht.
Badekt iz gevorn der himl. 
In ikh shtey mir in ayn vinkele fartrakht. 
Got, oy, bavayz shoyn dayn driml.

In a dark night,
the sky became covered, 
and I stand in a corner and think – 
Oh God, reveal your nap/rest. [?]

2) Lyubtshenyu, dushunyu, leybn,
efn mir oyf di tir. 
Ikh shtey eyne aleyn;
hob shoyn rakhmones oyf mir.

My darling, dear one, my love, 
Open the door for me.
I am standing alone – 
Have pity on me.

3) Ikh hob mir nisht mit veymenen tsu baheftn.
Mit keynemen kayn vort tsu reydn.
Es geyt mir oys mayne koykhes un kreftn.
Dem toyt iz mir optsubeygn [?]
[Or – “dem toyt oyf zikh betn”]

I don’t have anyone to connect with.
With no one do I have a single word to say.
My strength and power are fading.
Death is for me to bend [?]
[Or perhaps – I wish death upon me.]

4) Nisht meyn vayl di bist eyner,
kenst dekh shoyn visn mayn harts.
Nisht meyn vayl di bist eyner
kenst dekh shoyn visn mayn shmerts.

Don’t think that because you are the one,
you can know what is in my heart.
Don’t think that because you are the one,
you can know my pain. 

5) Mayne eltern tien mir freygn:
“Tokhternyu, vus geyst azoy fartribt?”
“Muter, kh’en dir nisht fartseyln. 
Kh’ob mir in eynem ayngelibt.”

My parents ask me:
“Daughter, why do you go around so sad?”
“Mother, I can’t tell you.
I have fallen in love with someone.”

6) Farlibt hob ikh mir in eynem.
Vayter, oy, lib ikh nisht keynem
Fartseyln ken ikh nisht far keynem,
Minhastame, [min-hastam] dekh, i’ mir azoy bashert.

I have fallen in love with someone;
none other do I love. 
I can speak of this to no one.
Probably it was so fated.

7) Ikh trink mir un in eyn taykh.
Ale mentshn zeyen mit di oygn.
Vus toyg mir mayn gelt in mayn raykh?
Mayn lyubtshe iz fin mir farfloygn.

I drink much [am drowning?] in a river.
All the people watch me with their eyes.
What need do I have of my money and my wealth?
My darling has flown away. .

8) Er iz fin mir farfloygn
durkh eyn ayn vaytn land.
Ikh sheym mir oystsuzugn. 
S’iz mir ayn groyser shand.

He flew away from me,
to a distant land.
I am ashamed to talk about it.
I am so humiliated. 

9) Kh’ob nisht gekikt af kayn blote un af kayn reygn.
Ikh bin shtendik tsu dir gekimen. 
Hayntike vokh [Haynt iz gevorn] hobn farvaksn indzere veygn,
fin indzern troyerdikn shpatsir.

Neither mud, nor rain prevented me.
I still always came to you.
This week  [today our paths grew together?]
our two paths crossed
during our sad walk. 

10) Kh’o shoyn dir, oy, lang gevolt oyszugn.
Farblayb shoyn, oy, mayner af gevis. 
Haynt ti ikh veynen in klugn.
Mayn hofening iz geveyn imzist. [imer zis]

I have wanted to tell you for a long time.
Stay mine for sure.
Today I cry and moan.
My hope was for naught. [was always sweet]

(Spoken) Ende libe…The end of the romance

גאָר אין אַ פֿינצטערער נאַכט
געזונגען פֿון גאָלדי ראָזענבאַום־מילער

גאָר אין אײַן [=אַ] פֿינצטערער נאַכט
.באַדעקט איז געוואָרן דער הימל
.און איך שטיי מיר אין אײַן [=אַ] ווינקעלע פֿאַרטראַכט
.גאָט, אוי, באַווײַז שוין דײַן דרימל

,ליובטשעניו, דושעניו, לעבן111
.עפֿן מיר אויף די טיר
,איך שטיי איינער אַליין
.האָב שוין רחמנות אויף מיר

,איך האָב מיר נישט מיט וועמענען צו באַהעפֿטן
,מיט קיינעמען קיין וואָרט צו ריידן
,ס’גייט מיר אויס מײַנע כּוחות און קרעפֿטן
דעם טויט איז מיר אָפּצובייגן   [דעם טויט אויף זיך בעטן ?]

,נישט מיין ווײַל דו ביסט איינער
,קענסט דאָך שוין וויסן מײַן האַרץ
,נישט מיין ווײַל דו ביסט איינער
.קענסט דאָך שוין וויסן מײַן שמערץ

:מײַנע עלטערן טוען מיך פֿרעגן
– ?טאָכטערניו, וואָס גייסט אַזוי פֿאַרטריבט
– .מוטער, כ’קען דיר נישט פֿאַרציילן
.כ’האָב מיר אין איינעם אײַנגעליבט

.פֿאַרליבט האָב איך מיר אין איינעם
,ווײַטער, אוי, ליב איך נישט קיינעם
,פֿאַרציילן קען איך נישט פֿאַר קיינעם
.מן־הסתּמען [מן־הסתּם איז] דאָך מיר אַזוי באַשערט

,איך טרינק מיר אָן אין טײַך,
,אַלע מענטשן זעען מיט די אויגן
?וואָס טויג מיר מײַן געלט און מײַן רײַך
.מײַן ליובטשע איז פֿון מיר פֿאַרפֿלויגן

ער איז פֿון מיר פֿאַרפֿלויגן
.דורך אײַן [=אַ] ווײַטן לאַנד
.איך שעם מיר אויסצוזאָגן
.ס’איז מיר אײַן [=אַ] גרויסער שאַנד

.כ’האָב נישט געקוקט אויף קיין בלאָטע און אויף קיין רעגן
.איך בין שטענדיק צו דיר געקומען
הײַנטיקע וואָך [=הײַנט איז געוואָרן] האָבן פֿאַרוואַקסן אונדזערע וועגן
.פֿון אונדזערן טרויערדיקן שפּאַציר

,כ’האָב שוין דיר, אוי, לאַנג געוואָלט אויסזאָגן
.פֿאַרבלײַב שוין, אוי, מײַנער אויף געוויס
– הײַנט טו איך וויינען און קלאָגן
.מײַן האָפֿענונג איז געווען אימער זיס [אימזיסט?]

 …‏ענדע ליבע

Lifshe Schaechter-Widman Performs “Ale meydelekh hobn khasene”

Ale meydelekh hobn khasene / All the Girls are Getting Married
A children’s song sung by Lifshe Schaechter-Widman, recorded by Leybl Kahn 1954, NYC

TRANSLITERATION 

LSW’s son, Mordkhe Schaechter, introduces the song: “Nokh a kinderlid” – “Another children’s song.”

Ale meydelekh hobn khasene,
Eykh blab aleyn.
Oy, mame, s’iz avade
nit sheyn.

Tate, gey afn ben-zukher,
un kloyb mir oys a bukher.
Ale meydelekh hobn khasene.
Un eykh blab aleyn. 

TRANSLATION

All the girls are getting married.
I remain alone.
Oy, mame, of course
it’s not nice.

Father, go to the ben-zokher
and pick out a groom for me. 
All the girls are getting married.
And I remain alone. 

,אַלע מיידעלעך האָבן חתונה
.איך בלײַב אַליין
אוי, מאַמע, ס’איז אַוודאי
.ניט שיין

 טאַטע, גיי אויפֿן בן־זכר
.און קלויב מיר אויס אַ בחור
.אַלע מיידעלעך האָבן חתונה
.און איך בלײַב אַליין

Commentary by Itzik Gottesman 

The third line of this short children’s song was difficult to understand, but thanks to Yiddish teacher and researcher Eliezer Niborski, I believe we have the complete correct version. 

A ben-zokher (“zukher” in LSW’s dialect) is a ritual on the Friday night following the birth of a boy. At the home of the new born, the parents serve guests and relatives wine and fruit. The phrase “ben zokher” is from Jeremiah 20:15. See Hayyim Schauss’ description of the tradition in his work The Lifetime of a Jew.

“Wedding” by Issachar Ber Ryback, c. 1930

Niborski also found the ben-zokher – bokher rhyme in two other sources. One in a children’s song that Ruth Rubin sings, “Tate, tate, gey afn ben-zukher”, as heard at YIVO’s Ruth Rubin Archive. The second he found in the essay by I. L. Peretz “Dos yidishe lebn loytn yidishn folkslid” (“Jewish Life as Depicted in Yiddish Folksong”)

Special thanks to Eliezer Niborski and the Ruth Rubin Archive at the YIVO Sound Archive. 

“Der nakhtvekhter” Performed by Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman

Der nakhtvekhter / The Night Watchman
Words by Avrom Reyzen, performance by Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman
Recorded by Itzik Gottesman, 1980s Bronx

Commentary by Itzik Gottesman.

Beyle Schaechter Gottesman (BSG) remembers learning this song in Jewish school in Chernovitz, Romania in the 1930s. She attended two schools: the Morgnroyt, a Bundist (socialist) school, every day after Romanian public school. On Sundays she attended the Yidisher shul-fareyn which was more left. She remembers learning Nakhtvekhter  at the Morgnroyt school.

 The words are by Avrom Reyzen (1876 – 1953), a beloved Yiddish writer whose poetry was often turned into song.  In Reisin’s volume of selected poetry (Di lider, 1951) he placed this poem among his earliest, so we can assume it was written around the turn of the century.  We are attaching a scan of the words as they appear in that volume. BSG’s version varies slightly.  When she repeats the last two lines of each verse, she corrects herself twice when she felt she had sung those lines incorrectly the first time.

I have not found any recordings yet. Paul Lamkoff composed a different melody to the poem and it can be heard at the Milken Archive of Jewish Music.

Der nakhtvekhter

Shpeyt di nakht iz kalt in fintster.
Neypldik in nas.
In di hayzer ruen ale
shtil un toyt in gas
In di hayzer ruen ale
toyt in shtim in gas.

Elnt shlept zikh nokh der vekhter
of der gas arim.
in di shtile hayzer kikt er
troyerik in shtim.
In di shtile hayzer kikt er
troyerik in shtim.

Dort in veykhn varem betl
shluft zikh azoy git.
Oy, vi voltn mayne beyner
Dort zikh oysrerit.
Oy, vi voltn mayne beyner
Dort zikh oysrerit.

In er klugt zikh farn himl –
zey mayn troyer tsi!
Ikh aleyn hob gornisht, hit ikh
yenems shluf un ri.
Ikh aleyn hob gornisht, hit ikh
yenems gits un ri.

The Night Watchman

Late at night, it’s cold and dark,
foggy and wet.
In the houses all are resting
Silent and dead on the street.
In the houses all are resting
dead and silent on the street.

Alone, the watchman drags himself
along the street.
He looks into the quiet houses
sadly and silently.
He looks into the quiet houses
sadly and silently.

There in a soft warm bed
one sleeps so well.
Oh, how my bones would
love to rest there.
Oh, how my bones would
love to rest there.

And he laments to the heavens –
witness my sorrow!
I myself have nothing, so I guard
another’s sleep and rest.
I myself have nothing, so I watch
another’s goods and rest.

“Ot her ikh vider a heymishe lidele” Performed by Yudeska (Yehudis) Eisenman

 

Commentary by Itzik Gottesman

This week’s post features a song, Ot her ikh vider a heymishe lidele (אָט הער איך ווידער אַ היימישע לידעלע / Now I Hear Again a Hometown Song), that was apparently very popular in the 1910s and 1920s but has been mostly forgotten today. This field recording of  the singer Yehudis Eisenman was made by Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman at the same time as Bald vet zayn a regn in the Bronx, 1993.

The poem is by the poet Yoysef Yofe (יוסף יפֿה /Joseph Jaffe) and has been titled Hemat, Heim, and Mayn Litvishe shtetele among others. Yofe was born in 1865 in Salant, near Kaunas/Kovne. He came to the US in 1892 and died in 1938 in the Bronx, NY. (Scans of  Yiddish text taken from Yidishe khrestomatye, ed. Avrom Reisin, 1908 are attached). Yofe was also the writer of at least one other Yiddish song, Dem zeydns brokhe (Grandfather’s Blessing).

Yoysef Yofe

 In Zalmen Reisin’s Leksikon fun der yidisher literatur, prese un filologye, volume 1, Vilna, 1926, this poem-turned-song by Yofe is specifically mentioned:

זייער פּאָפּולער איז בשעתו געווען זײַן ליד „היימאַט” (אָט זע איך ווידער מײַן היימישעס שטעטעלע) צו ערשט געדרוקט אין “יוד”, וואָס איז פֿיל געזונגען געוואָרן.

“Very popular in its time was his poem ‘Heimat’ (Here I see again my hometown), first published in Der Yud which was often sung.” I believe that Eisenman’s melody is the one sung in the 1920s.

In the Robert and Molly Freedman Jewish Sound Archive at the University of Pennsylvania, a version with the same melody can be heard on the CD Herman Snyder and Friends at Home which is from a field recording cassette made by Robert Freedman in Florida in the 1970s or 80s. We are attaching that wonderful recording at the end of the post.

If this is the Herman Snyder whom I think it is, then his Yiddish name was Khayim Shnayder and he and fellow folksinger Isaac Rymer were best friends in NY. Though I never met him and never heard him before, Shnayder was known for his wonderful Yiddish folksinging and I was so glad to hear this field tape recording. You can also hear Rymer talking or singing along in the background of many songs of this CD.

Sidor Belarsky recorded this song with a different melody under the title Mayn Shtetele on the LP Sidor Belarsky in a Yiddish Song Recital (1964). The composer of the Belarsky version was Paul Discount. Another melody by the composer David Botwinik was recorded by Cantor Henry Rosenblat, Cantor Moshe Ganchoff,  and Lisa Wilson with the title Di litvishe shtetele. Wilson’s performance can be heard on the CD of David Botwinik’s compositions From Holocaust to Life.

Chana and Joseph Mlotek discuss this song in their Forverts column Perl fun der yidisher literatur (Sept. 26, 1971, April 19, 1996), but I could not obtain a copy of these articles.

Thanks to Robert Freedman for his assistance with this week’s blog entry.

Recording of Yehudis Eisenman:

Recording of Herman Snyder:

Ot her ikh vider a heymishe lidele
Ot ze ikh vider dem eyruv, dem tsoym.
Bistu dos take mayn heymishe shtetele
Oder ikh ze dir in troym?

Ot shteyt di kretshmele noent lebn grobn do,
hekdeshl bedele, alts vi geven.
Kleyninke oreme, heymishe shtetele,
Lang hob ikh dir nit gezen.

Ot shteyt der beys-medreshl, a khurve, a moyerl.
Fentster tsebrokhene, krumlekhe vent.
Shtibelekh kvorimlekh, dekhelekh gezunkene,
vider hob ikh aykh derkent.

Zogt mir vu zaynen yetst mayne khaverimlekh
lebn zey, vandlen zey, zaynen zey toyt?
Zing fun dem vigele, zing fun dem tsigele,
zing fun der yidisher noyt.

Tsit zikh mayn lidele, eynzam un troyerik,
trerelekh heysinke gor on a shir.
Zise derinerungen, kindershe, herlekhe
lebn in harts uf bay mir.

Now I hear once again a hometown song,
now I see again the eruv, the fence.
Are you indeed my hometown
or am I seeing you in a dream?

Here stands the tavern near the ditch.
Poorhouse and bathhouse as they were before.
Delicate poor ones, my hometown,
Long have I not seen you.

Here stands the house of prayer, a ruin, a stone wall,
broken windows, crooked walls.
Little houses like graves, sunken roofs –
I have recognized you again.

Tell me where are my friends now?
Are they alive, have they wandered, are they dead?
Sing of the cradle; sing of the little goat,
sing of Jewish poverty.

My poem stretches lonely and sad.
Hot tears without end.
Sweet, beautiful memories of childhood,
live in my heart.