“In Daytshland aleyn” Performed by Goldie Rosenbaum-Miller

In Daytshland aleyn / In Germany Itself
A 19th century pogrom song adapted for the Holocaust sung by Goldie Rosenbaum-Miller. Recorded by Michael Kroopkin, circa 1965.

Goldie Rosenbaum-Miller

In daytshland aleyn, hob ikh dort gezeyn
zitsn ayn meydl, ayn sheyne, zitsn ayn meydl, ayn sheyne.
Ze, zi itstert veynt far yedern farbay geyn,
zi beyt a neduve, ayn kleyne,

In Germany I saw there
a girl was sitting, a beauty, a girl was sitting, a beauty.
See how she cries now, for every passerby.
She asks for alms, just a few.

Meydl, di sheyne, di binst azoy eydl.
Vus makhsti aza troyerdike mine?
Vus makhsti aza troyerdike mine?
Dayn sheyne fagur [figur], dayn eydele natur,
past dir tsu zayn a grafine.

Girl, you pretty one, you are so gentle.
Why do you make such a sad face?
Why do you make such a sad face?
Your fine figure, your gentle nature –
It suits you more to be a countess.

S’iz mir ayn shand, oystsushtrekn man hant
tsu beytn ba laytn gelt. 
Got di tayerer, Got oy mayner
Nem mikh shoyn tsi fin ver velt. 

I am ashamed to stretch out my hand
and beg for money from people.
Oh God, you dear one, Oh my God, 
Take me away from this world. 

Hitler mit di katsapn mit zayne vilde lapn.
Er hot, dokh, oy, ales fardorbn. Er hot, dokh, oy, ales fardorbn
Dos hoyz hot er tsibrokhn Man fater geshtokhn
Fin ales [ ?] far toytshrek geshtorbn.
Dos hoyz hot er tsibrokhn. Man fater geshtokhn
Mayn muter far toytshrek geshtorrbn.

Hitler with his bandits [“Katsapn”: derogatory word for “Russians”]
and his wild paws,
He ruined everything. He ruined everything.
My house was destroyed. My father was stabbed,
From it all, they died of terror.
My house was destroyed. My father was stabbed,
my mother died of terror. 

Ven men iz aroys, fun yeydern hoyz
s’i geveyn shreklekh tsitsikikn. 
Hitler mit di bande er hot gefirt di komande.
Er hot dokh, oy, ales fardorbn. 
Hitler mit di bande, Er hot gefirt di komande.
Er hot dokh oy ales fardorbn.

When everyone came out
of their houses
It was a horrible site to see.
Hitler and his band,
he lead his gang
Oh, he ruined everything.
Hitler and his band,
he lead his gang
Oh, he destroyed everything.

Commentary on the Singer Provided by Debbie Kroopkin, Her Great-Grandaughter:

Goldie Miller was born Goldie Rozenbaum in Sokolow Podlaski, Poland on March 4, 1888. She married Nathan Kroopkin in 1909 in Warsaw, emigrating to the U.S. in 1913. In Chicago, she later married Isaac S. Miller. She loved to sing and would often perform at landsmanshaften picnics. According to a family story she was asked to sing professionally in Poland “but chose to raise a family instead”. She died on April 23, 1973 in Chicago.

Commentary on the Song by Itzik Gottesman

This song is an adaptation of one of the oldest songs created after a pogrom. The “original” was published in 1895.  On this blog we have posted two versions of this song. Please see the notes to these two earlier versions on the blog – “In Odes af a shteyn” sung by Lifshe Schaechter-Widman and “In Kiever gas” sung by Frima Braginski.

But this version, “In Daytshland aleyn” sung by Goldie Rosenbaum-Miller, has converted it into a Holocaust song accusing Hitler of the destruction. “Katsapes”, a derogatory term for “Russians” that made more sense in the earlier pogrom versions, is kept in this Holocaust adaptation though historically it doesn’t fit it in. 

Thanks to Goldie Miller’s great-grandaughter, Debbie Kroopkin, who brought this family recording to the attention of Binyumen Schaechter, conductor of the Yiddish Philharmonic Chorus in NYC.

אין דײַטשלאַנד אַליין
געזונגען פֿון גאָלדי ראָזענבאַום-מילער
,אין דײַטשלאַנד אַליין, האָב איך דאָרט געזען

.זיצן אײַן [אַ] מיידל, אײַן [אַ] שיינע
[?] ,זע, זי איצטערט וויינט, פֿאַר יעדערן פֿאַרביי גיין
.זי בעט אַ נדבֿה, אײַן [אַ] קליינע

.מיידל, דו שיינע, דו בי(נ)סט אַזוי איידל
?וואָס מאַכסטו אַזאַ טרויערדיקע מינע
,דײַן שיינע פֿיגור, דײַן איידעלע נאַטור
.פּאַסט דיר צו זײַן אַ גראַפֿינע

,ס’איז מיר אײַן שאַנד, אויסצושטרעקן מײַן האַנט
.צו בעטן בײַ לײַטן געלט
,גאָט דו טײַערער, גאָט דו מײַנער
.נעם מיך שוין צו פֿון דער וועלט

היטלער מיט די קאַצאַפּן, מיט זײַנע ווילדע לאַפּן
ער האָט דאָך, אוי, אַלעס פֿאַרדאָרבן
,דאָס הויז האָט ער צעבראָכן, מײַן פֿאַטער געשטאָכן
.מײַן מוטער פֿאַר טויטשרעק געשטאָרבן

ווען מען איז אַרויס, פֿון יעדערן הויז
.ס’איז געווען שרעקלעך צוצוקוקן
היטלער מיט די באַנדע, ער האָט געפֿירט די קאָמאַנדע
.ער האָט דאָך אַלעס פֿאַרדאָרבן

“Nakhtishe lider” Performed by Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman

Commentary by Itzik Gottesman

The author of the text to “Nakhtishe lider”, Herz Rivkin was born Herzl Heisiner in Capresti, Bessarabia (today Moldova) in 1908, and died in a Soviet gulag, November 14, 1951. The poem is taken from  his only printed poetry collection “In shkheynishn dorf”  [From the Neighboring Village], Bucharest, 1938. Reprinted in Bucharest, 1977.

Herz Rivkin

The composer of the melody is unknown. The performer of this week’s posting, Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman (my mother), learned this song in Chernovitz in the 1930s. The only recording of the song is by Arkady Gendler on his CD “My Hometown Soroke”,  2001. That version is incomplete with two verses by Rivkin, and a third by Gendler.  Gendler titles the song “Nakhtike lider” which is the original title in Rivkin’s book.

Singer Michael Alpert has initiated and directs a concert program with singer/bandura player Julian Kytasty which brings together Jewish and Ukrainian singers and musicians in a collaborative program, the title of which “Night Songs from a Neighboring Village” was inspired by this song.

I recorded my mother’s performance of “Nakhtishe lider” at home in the Bronx in the 1980s. The audio quality of the recording is unfortunately not stable (be careful when listening – the volume increases significantly at 0:27), but Schaechter-Gottesman’s singing here is a wonderful example of what I would call urban interwar Yiddish singing and contrasts powerfully with the older plaintive, communal shtetl-style of her mother Lifshe Schaechter-Widman.

Nakhtishe lider fun shkheynishn dorf
farblondzen amol tsu mayn ganik.
Zey leshn mayn troyer; zey gletn mayn umet.
Zey flisn vi zaftiker honig.

Night Songs from the neighboring village.
Lose their way to my porch.
They extinguish my sadness; they caress my melancholy.
They flow like juicy honey.

Lider khakhlatske, muntere, frishe.
Vos shmekn mit feld un mit shayer.
Zey filn di luft un mit varemkeyt liber,
vos shtromt fun a heymishn fayer.

Ukrainian Songs, upbeat and fresh
that smell with field and barn.
They fill the air with a loving warmth,
that streams from an intimiate fire.

Nakht iz in shtetl, ikh lig afn ganik.
Ver darf haynt der mames geleyger?
Iz vos, az s’iz eyns? Iz vos, az s’iz tsvey?
Iz vos az shlogt dray shoyn der zeyger?

It’s nighttime in town; I lay on my porch.
Who needs today my mother’s place to sleep?
So what if it’s one? So what if it’s two?
So what if the clock strikes three?

Her ikh un ikh veys nisht iz yontif in dorf.
Tsi es hilyen zikh glat azoy yingen.
Az vos iz der khilek? Oyb s’vet bald, mir dakht
di levone oykh onheybn tsu zingen.

I listen and I don’t know if it’s a celebration in the village,
or just some kids are singing.
But what is the difference? If soon, it seems
The moon will also start to sing.

Azoy gisn amol zikh fun skheynishn dorf
heymishe, zaftike tener.
Biz s’heybt on frimorgn tsu vargn di nakht
un ez heybn on kreyen shoyn di heyner.

In this way pours out, from the neighboring village
intimate, juicy melodies.
Until the early morning begins to choke the night
and the roosters start to crow.