“A Badekns/Veiling the Bride” Performed by M.M. Shaffir

A badekns/Veiling the Bride
Sung and composed by M.M. Shaffir, recorded in the Bronx, 1974

Commentary by Itzik Gottesman

In his Yiddish poetry collections, the Montreal poet M. M. Shaffir occasionally included folksongs, rhymes and jokes that he remembered from his home town in Romania, Suceava (“Shots” in Yiddish). This original badekns, words and music, was printed in his collection of Yiddish poetry Ikh kum aheym, and follows very closely the traditional badekns that the badkhn (wedding entertainer) would deliver at the veiling of the bride. The printed pages with the Yiddish words and music are attached as pdfs.

M.M. Shaffir, photo by Itzik Gottesman

Shaffir did not clearly indicate that the music is his composition and not a traditional tune remembered from Suceava, but since he did compose other melodies for his poetry, I am leaning toward crediting him as composer the music as original.

Shaffir’s badekns, as is typical of the genre, addresses mainly the bride, then al the women, telling her of her wonderful future and how a pious religious Jewish life will assure her a place in heaven.

Listening to Shaffir sing this song in the Bronx are Beyle and Jonas Gottesman, the Yiddish writer Vera Hacken and her husband, the composer Emanuel Hacken.

Because the song is longer than usual, we are alternating transliteration with translation.

TRANSLITERATION/TRANSLATION

Kalenyu, tsat tsi der khipe geyn –
bam khusn hosti deym zibetn kheyn.
Gefin azoy kheyn oykh ba Got un ba lat.
Az dan shem zol zikh trugn noent un vat.

Dear bride, time to go to the khupe.
The groom is enamored of you.
May God and all people see this charm,
so your reputation, will be heard near and far.

A shem-tov iz beser fun gutn eyl,
vi s’vert in di heylike sfurim dertseylt.
Far vur, er iz shener fin alerley tsir,
un er hit fin shlekhts deym erlekhns tir.

A good name is better than good oil,
as it is written in the holy books.
Indeed, it is more beautiful than all kinds of ornaments.
and protects from evil the honest one’s door

Nushim tsidkuniyes, beydns tsad –
aykh kimt hant der ershter vivat.
kalenyu, kik tsa di babes aher –
zey, vi zey shmeykhlen un lozn a trer.

Pious women on both sides –
you deserve the first praise.
Bride, look over to the grandmothers –
see how they smile and drop a tear.

Shtel zikh, kale, ba zey in rey,
un her mayne shloyshe dvurim tsvey –
az dort, vi mitsves hobn an ort,
iz shulem-bayes oykh do dort.

Bride, stand with them in row,
and hear my few words –
– there where mitsves find a place,
there is also peace at home.

Mitsves brengen di brukhe in hoyz,
in trabn fin dort deym dales aroys.
Zey bentshn mit gite doyres dus pur
in mit khayim- arikhim, gezinte yur.

Mitsves (good deeds/fulfillment of God’s commandments) bring blessings to the home,
and drive out poverty from there.
They bless the pair with good generations
and with a long and healthy life.

Fin mitsves hot men i du deym skhar,
un i s’iz af yener velt git derfar.
Vayl mitsves un maynsim toyvim nor
nemt mit der mentsh iber hindert yur.

From mitsves you receive both here a reward,
and in the word to come it will be good.
Because mitsves and good deeds
lasts for someone a hundred years.

Fin intern kisey-hakuved afir,
fin hinter a zilberner lekhtiker tir,
kimt di neshume arup of der erd,
aran inem gif, val azoy iz bashert.

From under God’s throne,
from behind a silver, illuminated door,
comes the soul down to earth,
and into the body for which he is destined.

Zi darf zikh du mitshen a lebn vist
un nisht vern farzindikt, nisht vern farrist,
un kimen tsirik far Got tsi geyn –
azoy vi geboyrn, tsikhtik un reyn.

It [the soul] must suffer here a life long
and not sin, not be torn away.
and return to God
the way it was born – pure and clean.

In gan-eydn shteyen shtiln gegreyt
in shan fin der shkhine, mit vasn geshpreyt,
batsirt un bahungen mit gildene tsikh –
in rifn di reyne neshumes tse zikh.

In paradise two chairs are prepared,
in the light of the shekhine, covered with white,
decorated and hung with a golden cover.
and call for the pure souls to come.

Un der vus hot af der zindiker erd
mitsves getin un gits geklert –
der zitst in gan-eydn oybn un
in bigdey-sheynkeyt ungetun.

And he who on this sinful earth
did mitsves and good deeds,
he sits in heaven at the head of the table,
and dressed in beautiful clothes.

In zkhis fin dan tsitkis, kalenyu kroyn,
zol zikh ekn der gulus bald un shoyn –
me zol zoykhe zan take gor in gikh
tsu hern dem shoyfer shel moshiakh.

Because of your piousness, dear bride,
may the exile soon end.
May we deserve right away
to hear the Messiah’s shofar.

Melukhim un surim zoln varfn fin shrek
tsin indzere tsures zol nemen an ek.
in Got zol mit zan rekhter hant
indz firn tsirik in heylikn land.

Let angels and seraphim shutter from fear,
our troubles should come to an end.
and God should with his right hand,
lead us back to the Holy Land.

Ikh heyb of mit a tfile dem bekher mit van
az halevay zol es nokh beyomeyni zan.
in ir, khusn-kale, in ir groys un kleyn –
zugt mir nokh af a kol un in eynem: “omeyn”

With a prayer I raise the goblet of wine,
that this should happen even in our own time.
And you, bride and groom, and you big and small,
say with me out aloud and together – “amen”

“Dos fleshl/Tshort vos’mi” Performed by Jacob Gorelik

Commentary by Jane Peppler

Researching “Cabaret Warsaw,” a cd of music created and performed by Jews in Warsaw between the wars, I was pointed to a 1929 book called “35 letste teatr lider fun Azazel un Sambatiyon” (Azazel and Sambatiyon being two kleynkunst venues popular at the time). I found the book at Brooklyn’s Chasidic “Library Of Agudas,” along with six tiny books of theater songs and monologues (lyrics only) published in 1933 and 1934 by bookseller and record shop owner Itzik Zhelonek (Zielonek). I decided to track down the melodies for as many of these songs as possible (for more information click here); Itzik Gottesman sent me a version of one of them sung by Jacob Gorelik – this week’s Yiddish Song of the Week, known as “Dos fleshl” (the bottle) or “Tshort vos’mi” (The Devil Take’s It).

Gorelik learned the song from a guy in Central Park – back when it was a place people went to “sing and play” (he contrasted that to its present reputation as a place to buy drugs). He didn’t know the man, or where the song came from, but he said it shares its melody with the Russian song “Kare Glaski” (“Brown Eyes,” see Russian lyrics below).

The words Gorelik sang were quite different from the lyric printed in “35 letste teatr lider” (texts to both versions are below). Sometimes singers “folk process” what they’ve heard, or they forget the words and re-imagine them from scratch.

Here is the song as sung by Jacob Gorelik, recorded in his NYC apartment, 1985, by Itzik Gottesman:

Gorelik’s spoken introduction, transcribed and translated by Itzik Gottesman:

A special genre of songs are about drunks. Because, basically, the background of every drunk is a sad one: a person is not born drunk – troubles, bad habits, bad family; the father was a drunk. And here we have a song of a drunk, and he tells us, more or less, of his life. I don‘t know the father, the mother [of the song]; I don‘t know who wrote the song and who created the melody. Possibly it‘s an old theater song, very possiblew but it has the taste of a folksong. I heard it my first years in America in Central Park. I lived then at 110th street, near the park. And in those years the park was not just a place to sell drugs, or for other deviates. The park was the for the youth. We came and sang, played, sang. We were not afraid. We even slept there till 2:00 at night near the reservoir. And there I heard someone sing this song of a drunk. I don‘t remember his name.

The song of a drunk – ‘Tshort Voz’mi’, which means – The Devil Take It.
Gorelik’s version, transcribed and translated by Jane Peppler:

Yo, hob ikh in der velt alts farlorn
A yosim geblibn bin ikh fri
Mayne fraynt hob ikh, hob ikh shoyn lang farlorn
Mayn fraynt iz nor dos fleshl, tshort voz’mi

I’ve lost everything in this world,
I was orphaned at an early age.
I lost my friends long ago,
Only my bottle is my friend
The devil take it.

Ikh hob a mol a nomen gehat
azoy vi di greste aristokrasi
un haynt hob ikh im shoyn lang fargesn
vi ruft men mikh, freg baym fleshl, tshort voz’mi

I used to have a name like the great aristocrats
Now I’ve forgotten my former reputation,
What people call me now, ask the bottle
The devil take it.

Ikh hob a mol a heym gehat
Ergets vayt, ikh veys nisht vu
Haynt gey ikh arum na venad
Vu iz mayn heym?
Freg baym fleshl, tshort voz’mi

I used to have a home somewhere
Far away, I don’t know where.
Now I go around without a homeland.
Where is my home? Ask the bottle.
The devil take it.

Ikh hob a mol a gelibte gehat
Iz zi dokh tsu a tsveytn avek
Un haynt hob ikh fil, un lib nisht keyner
Mayn gelibte iz nor dos fleshl, tshort voz’mi

I used to have a sweetheart,
She’s left me for someone else.
And now I have so much, but I don’t love anybody
My sweetheart? Just this bottle.
The devil take it.

Here is the text printed in the 1929 collection:

Geven bin ikh a mentsh eyner
Bakant geven in der gantser velt
Haynt iz far mir alesding farlorn
Tsulib dir, mayn fleshele, okh! Tshort vosmi!

I used to be well known in the whole world
Now everything is lost to me because of you, my bottle,
The devil take it

Gehat hob ikh a kale Gitele
Antlofn iz zi, der tayvl veyst vu
Zi hot mir geton mayn lebn derkutshen
Tsulib dir, mayn fleshele, okh! tshort vosmi!

I had a bride, Gitele,
She’s run away, the devil knows where
She tormented my life thanks to you, my bottle
The devil take it

Men varft mir shteyner nokh in di gasn
“Shlogt im!” shrayt men, “dem bosyak.”
Zogt mir, menshn, farvos tut ir mikh hasn?
Tsulib dir, mayn fleshele, okh! Tshort vozmi!

People throw stones at me in the street.
“Hit that bum,” they cry,
Tell me, people, why do you hate me?
Because of you, my little bottle,
Oh, the devil take it.

Vu iz mayn foter? Vu iz mayn muter?
Vu iz mayn heymat, zogt mir vu?
Fun vandern iz mir shoyn mayn lebn farmiest
Tsulib dir, mayn fleshele, okh! Tsort vozmi!

Where is my father? My mother?
My homeland? Tell me, where?
My life is ruined by wandering,
Because of you, my little bottle
The devil take it.

S’vert mir erger in di letste tsaytn
Kh’bin shoyn alt un krank un farshmakht
Un, ikh shtarb avek, mayne libe laytn,
durkh dir, mayn fleshele, oy, a gute nakht!

Lately things have gotten worse for me,
I’m old and sick and languishing
I’m dying, my dear people,
Because of you, my little bottle,
oy, good night!

Yiddish text – Gorelik’s version:

Карие глазки (Brown Eyes)

Карие глазки, где вы скрылись.
Мне вас больше не видать.
Куда вы скрылись, запропали,
Навек заставили страдать.

Выньте сердце, положите
На серебряный поднос.
Вы возьмите, отнесите
Сердце другу, пока спит.

Мил проснётся, ужахнётся.
Милый помнит обо мне.
Мил потужит, погорюет
По несчастной сироте.