Dus beymele shteyt in vald / The tree stands in the woods A folklorized version of the Goldfaden song, “Elnt fun ale beymer vayt” sung by Lifshe Schaechter-Widman. Recorded by Leybl Kahn, New York City, 1954.
COMMENTARY BY ITZIK GOTTESMAN This is a folklorized version of the song “Elnt fun ale beymer vayt” from the Goldfaden operetta “Di kishifmakherin” also known as “Koldunye” (the witch), first performed in 1878. It is sung by the young girl Mirele in the second act, first scene. A scan of the original Yiddish is attached from a New York edition of the play.
The song presents an interesting case of folklorization, turning a theater song into a Yiddish orphan song, though with a hopeful ending which is atypical of Yiddish orphan songs. I have kept the false start and brief discussion afterwards with Leybl Kahn in which LSW says this song was learned in her hometown Zvinyetshke (now Ukraine).
Another folklorized version of this Goldfaden song was published in the second volume, Skuditski Folklor-lider, Moscow, 1936, p. 312, #52 (see screen shots attached below). There the song is extended with two new verses and keeps much more of the Goldfaden text than LSW’s.
Click here to listen to Frank Seiden singing a version of the original Goldfaden song, 1901, and click here to see the sheet music from the Library of Congress archive.
Dus beymele shteyt in vald [False start] Dus beymele shteyt in vald, dus beymeledus beymele elnt, aleyn. Azoy ikh nebekh yesoymele In velt drey ekh mekh arim aleyn. Azoy ikh nebekh yesoymele Drey zikh af der velt arim aleyn.
The tree stands in the woods, the tree, the tree all alone. So I, alas, poor orphan, Drift around this world alone
Dus beymele triknt ayn in di bleter faln up. Zey faln gants arup. Azoy faln mayne trern. tse der naser erd arup, oy, arup. Azoy faln mayne trern. Tse der naser erd arup.
The tree dries up and the leaves fall off. They fall off completely. So fall my tears to the wet ground.
Veyn nit in klug nit, yesoymele, yesoymele, elnt, aleyn. Es vet nokh blien dus beymele, Dayn glikele vet nokh kimen tsi geyn. Es vet nokh blien dus beymele, Dayn glik vet nokh kimen tsu geyn.
Don’t cry and lament, dear orphan, Orphan, alone and lonely. The tree will once more blossom; Your good fortune will return.
דאָס ביימעלע שטייט אין וואַלד, דאָס ביימעלע, עלנט, אַליין .אַזוי איך נעבעך יתומעלע אין וועלט דריי איך מיך אַרום אַליין .אַזוי איך נעבעל יתומעלע, דריי זיך אויף דער וועלט אַרום אַליין.
Mentshn shteyt oyf gants fri / People, Wake Up Early A version of “Der gevisser may” by Yitskhok-Yoel Linetski
Sung by Avi Fuhrman, recorded by Itzik Gottesman at Circle Lodge camp, 1984
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman
Yiddish songs written about May in the 1890s and 1900s, were, of course, related to May 1st and the worker’s movement. But Yitskhok-Yoel Linetski published this in 1869 in his collection Der beyzer marshelik, before May 1 acquired its social significance. So it’s a song about “the merry month of May”. Here is a version recorded I recorded from Avi Fuhrman at the Circle Lodge camp in Upstate New York in 1984.
Avi Fuhrman at Circle Lodge (photo by Itzik Gottesman)
This is now the third Linetski song on the blog: “Di mode” (sung by Lifshe Schaechter-Widman) and “Der shpigl mitn zeyger” (also sung by Furhman) were previously posted. The original song entitled “Der geviser may” [The well-known May] has thirteen verses plus the refrain. Furhman’s version includes verses one, five and nine and the refrain.
In the Ruth Rubin Archive singer Sam Gold from Lipkan, Bessarabia, sings a similar version: “Shteyt nor oyf mentshn gants fri“.His third verse is verse eleven in Linetski’s text. The link to that version can be heard here.
TRANSLITERATION
Mentshn shteyt oyf gants fri.
Dervakht fun ayer geleyger.
Hert di sheyne harmoni
fun dem natirlekhn zeyger.
Vi di beymelekh royshn un feygelekh zingen. Melodis zingen feygelekh alerley. Heysheriklekh tantsn un shpringen
Un tsim takt iz du der solovey.
[REFRAIN]: Mentshn makht aykh fray. git iber ayere gedanken gur. Tsu deym may, deym zisn may di kroyn fun der heyliker natur
Batrakh nor, ikh beyt aykh, dem altn boym
Er iz naket un a blat.
Der may nemt im shoyn di mus
Un tit im un a grinem khalat. Batrakht nor atsinder dem altn shturmak
er hot dokh shoyn gur an ander punem.
Er bakimt shoyn oykh a bisl farb in der bak
Un shtipt zikh shoyn tvishn ale makhetunim.
[REFRAIN]
Leygt avek damen, mamzeln
fargenign fun zilber un gold.
Treyt nor ariber di shveln
in shpatsirt af der shtut bizn tifn vald.
Batrakht nor di royz, zi trugt kayn briliantn nit. Shener iz zi, akh’ lebn, [vi] a sakh fun aykh. Zi trugt nisht keyn perln un dimantn
un komplimentn hot zi mer fun aykh.
[REFRAIN]
TRANSLATION
People, arise real early.
Awaken from your beds.
Listen to the beautiful harmony
from the clock of nature,
how the trees rustle and birds sing.
The birds sing all kinds of melodies.
Crickets dance and jump
and in rhythm is the nightingale.
[REFRAIN]: People make yourselves free. Give over all of your thoughts to May, the sweet May, the crown of the holy nature.
Consider, I ask you, the old tree.
He is naked, not a leaf.
May takes his measurements
And dresses him in a new robe.
Consider now that old dotard.
He has a completely different appearance.
He is getting a little color in his cheek.
And pushes his way through among the in-laws.
[REFRAIN]
Put away, ladies and misses, your pleasure of silver and gold.
Step over the doorsteps
and take a walk through the city to the deep woods.
Consider the rose: it wears no diamonds.
It is more beautiful, I swear, than many of you.
It wears no pearls, no diamonds.
Yet she gets more complements than you.
[REFRAIN]
Below: Linetski’s original text “Geviser may” in Beyzer Marshelik (1869):
Di farfirte / The Woman Who was Led Astray
Words and (music?) by Morris Rosenfeld
Sung and recorded by Leo Summergrad
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman
This poem appears in the first volume of Morris Rosenfeld’s (1862 – 1923) poetry. Leo Summergrad learned it from his mother and I have only found one reference to the song: a query in Chana and Yosl Mlotek’s Forverts column “Leyner dermonen zikh lider”. But the two compilers had never heard of the song.
Leo Summergrad’s mother, Minnie, and father, Abram Summergrad, on the right side. His in-laws Moishe and Esther Korduner are on the left.
Rosenfeld’s original poem is composed of three 14-line stanzas and we have printed it this way, though in Summerfeld’s handwritten transcription, which we attached, he has divided it into the more common 4 line stanzas. We are also attaching the printed version from Volume I of Rosenfeld’s collected works.
Though we are not sure who composed the music, we do know that Rosenfeld composed melodies to his poetry and sang them at readings.
Thanks to Leo Summergrad for contributing this recording.
1
Gedenkstu vi du host mir libe geshvorn,
gegrint hot der eplboym tsvishn di korn.
Der foygl hot ruik geblikt fun di tsvaygn
un ales arum iz gelegn in shvaygn.
O, ver hot es damolst gevust dayn kavone.
Geshtumt hobn himl un erd un levone.
Ven du host geshvorn far mir mit a fayer,
az eybik farblaybstu mayn eyntsik getrayer.
Du hot mikh farkisheft, du host mikh batrunken.
Ikh bin vi batoybt in dayn orems gezunken.
O, dan iz dayn umreyner vuntsh dir gelungen.
Du host in mayn heyliktum frekh ayngedrungen.
Mayn ere geroybt un mayn lebn tserisn.
Mikh biter baleydikt un endlikh farshmisn.
Do you remember, you swore your love for me. The apple tree was greening among the rye. The bird calmly watched us from the branches and everything around us lay in silence. O, who could then have known your intention. Silent were heaven and earth and the moon, when you swore to me with a fire, that eternally you would remain my one true one. You cast a spell on me; you intoxicated me. I was as if deaf when i lay in your arms. O, then you succeeded with your filthy desire; into my sacred shrine you insolently penetrated. You robbed me of my honor and tore my life apart. Insulted me bitterly and finally whipped me.
2
Bin orm un elnt vos darfstu zikh shtern?
Fleg ikh bay dir shtendik zikh betn mit trern.
Un du bist dokh raykh un gebildet un eydl.
Gey zukh dir a shenere, raykhere meydl.
O, zol mir der fayer fun elnt farbrenen,
fleg ikh tsu dir zogn du darfst mikh nit kenen.
Farges on mayn sheynkeyt, ikh darf nit keyn gvires.
O loz mikh in armut, ikh zukh keyn ashires.
Gedenkstu di nakht ven mir zaynen gegangen
der mond iz vi zilber in himl gehangen.
Fun goldene shtern bakranst undzer svive
vos hobn geshmeykhlt vi kinder nayive.
Gedenkstu yene nakht? O, du darfst ir gedenken.
Ikh shenk es dir, Got zol in himl dir shenken.
I am poor and alone, why bother yourself. I had always with tears pleaded with you. Yet you are wealthy, educated and gentle. Go find yourself a prettier, richer girl. O, let the fire of loneliness burn me up, I used to say to you, you should not know me. Forget about my beauty; I need no valor. Leave me poor, I do not search for riches. Do you remember the night when we walked; the moon was like silver hanging in the sky. Golden stars crowned our surroundings and smiled like naive children. Do you remember that night? O, you should remember it. I give it to you as a gift; God should give you it as a gift in heaven.
3
Ikh hob zikh bay dir mit rakhmones gebetn.
O, rays mikh nit oys vest mikh shpeter tsetretn.
O, loz mikh! ikh vel mir tsvishn di mashinen
an erlekhn man, a gelibtn gefinen.
A shapmeydl bin ikh, vos hob ikh tsu klaybn.
Bin orem geborn, vel orem farblaybn.
Dokh, du host mit zise un kuntsike verter
geshvorn az du nor muzst zayn mayn basherter.
Tsu sheyn bin ikh, hostu gezogt, tsu farvyanen
far mir iz a beseres lebn faranen.
Gedenkstu di nakht tsi iz lang shoyn fargangen
der vint hot koym vos geshoklt di zangen.
Arum di natur hot gekukt un geshvign
o, ver hot gerekhnt du zolst mikh batribn.
With compassion I pleaded with you. O, don’t tear me out; stomp on me later. O, leave me, so that among the machines I will find an honest man, a lover. I’m a shopgirl, what is my choice – I am poor and will remain poor. Still, with sweet and artful words you swore that you must be my destined one. Too beautiful am I, you said, to every wilt. For me there is a better life awaiting. Do you remember the night or is it far in the past? The wind barely moved the stalks. The nature around watched and was silent. O who would have thought you would sadden me so.
4
Atsind zogstu vilstu mikh mer nit bagegenen
ikh hob derkegn, ikh kum zikh gezegenen.
Ikh veys az du gist zikh an anderer iber.
Nu, vintsh ikh dir, mazel-tov, mazl mayn liber.
Du bist keyn bal-khayim, dayn shem iz genezn
Di shuld zi iz mayne, yo, mayne gevezn.
Ikh hob nit gegloybt az du vest mikh baroybn
Ikh hob nit gevust nokh dem umglik fun gloybn.
Ikh hob nokh di mentshn genoy nit bagrifn.
Ikh hob nit gevust az di tsung iz geshifn.
Neyn, du bist nit shuldik; Ikh kum dir fartsayen
Ikh vil dikh farlozn, ikh vil dikh bafrayen.
Vi kum ikh, an oysvorf, in elnt geshlosn
farlangen mayn maysters a zun far a khosn?
Now you say you no longer want to see me. I, to the contrary, come to bid farewell. I know that you now love another: so I wish you good luck and good fortune my love. You are a living creature, your name will recover. Guilty am I, yes I was the guilty one. I did not believe that you would rob me. I did not know of the tragedy in believing. I did not know that the tongue is sharpened. No, you are not guilty; I come to ask your pardon. I want to leave you; I want to liberate you. How could I, an outcast, trapped in loneliness, ask my boss’s son to be my groom?
Shteyt in tol an alte mil / An Old Mill Stands in the Valley Words by M. M. Shaffir, Music -“adapted from a Romanian folk melody”
Recorded by Itzik Gottesman, Bronx
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman
The poet M. M. Shaffir (1909 -1988) was born in Suchava/Suceava (in Yiddish – “Shots”), Bukovina, Austria-Hungary; today – Romania. He immigrated to Montreal in 1939 and published 18 books of poetry. He was known for his love of Jewish folklore and his expert knowledge of the Yiddish language.
M.M. Shaffir, Screen Shot from Cindy Marshall’s Film “A Life of Song: a Portrait of Ruth Rubin”
He was a close friend of the linguist, writer and editor Mordkhe Schaechter, and visited him in the Bronx several times. At one of these occasions in 1974, the Sholem-Aleichem Cultural Center organized an event honoring his visit and afterward he sang three songs that he had composed at the Gottesman home across the street.
In this post we look at the first of those three songs, a doina-style melody Shteyt in tul an alte mil. He included the words and music in his collection Bay der kholem multer (Montreal, 1983) which are attached.
Several lines in his performance differ from the printed poem. On top of the musical notation, Shaffir wrote “loyt a Romeynishn folksmotiv” – “adapted from a Romanian folk melody.” To compare a Romanian traditional song to Shaffir’s composition Romanian music researcher Shaun Williams suggested listening to this Romanian doina sung by Maria Tanase:
Singer and scholar Michael Alpert also suggested listening to this Romanian “epic ballad”:
In Cindy Marshall’s film “A Life of Song: A Portrait of Ruth Rubin”, Shaffir can be seen in the episode where Rubin records singers in Montreal. The photo of him in this blog is taken from that scene. The entire film can be seen at YIVO’s Ruth Rubin Legacy website.
TRANSCRIPTION
1) Shteyt in tul an alte mil.
Veyn ikh dortn in der shtil.
Shteyen dortn verbes tsvey
Veyn ikh oys mayn harts far zey.
2) Ergets vayt in kelt un shney
iz gefaln mayn Andrei.
Ergets af a vistn feld.
Hot zayn harts zikh opgeshtelt.
3)Deym boyars tsvey sheyne zin
zenen nisht avek ahin.
Nor Andrei hot men opgeshikt
hot a koyl zayn harts fartsikt.
4) Hot zayn harts zikh opgeshtelt.
Ergets oyf a vistn feld.
Ergets vayt in kelt un shney
S’iz mir vind un s’iz mir vey.
TRANSLATION
An old mill stands in the field
where I cry there quietly.
Two willows are there
and I cry my heart out for them.
Somewhere distant in cold and snow
my Andrei has fallen.
Somewhere on a barren field
his heart stopped beating.
The boyar’s two handsome sons
did not go there.
Only Andrei was sent
and a bullet devoured his heart.
His heart stopped beating
somewhere on a barren field.
Somewhere far in cold and snow,
Woe is me, how it hurts!
From Bay der kholem multer by M.M. Shaffir (Montreal, 1983) pp. 72-73:
Royte epl, grine shotns / Red Apples, Green Shadows Text by Zalmen Schneor, music by Samuel Bugatch
Sung by Jacob (Yankev) Gorelik
Recorded at a concert sponsored by the Center for Traditional Music and Dance, NYC, 1990.
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman
The lyrics to this song were written by the Yiddish/Hebrew writer Zalmen Schneour (1886 – 1959). According to Jacob Gorelik’s introduction the music is by the composer Samuel (Shmuel) Bugatch (1898 – 1984). Here is the link to the YIVO Encyclopedia entry on Schneour whose most famous poem/song is Margaritkelekh (Daisies).
Jacob Gorelik at the Sholem Aleichem Cultural Center in the Bronx.
In Schneour’s volume of collected Yiddish poetry, 40 yor lider un poemen the poem is called Royte epl… and is dated to Vilna, 1906, one of his earliest poems (scan of that poem attached below).
In the sound archives of the National Library of Israel it is sung by Rivke Glazman, recorded by Gila Flam in 1999. Both Glazman and Gorelik were close to the American Poale-Zion (Labor Zionist) movement as was Bugatch.
Here is the link to Glazman’s performance (may require log-in) of Roye epl, grine shotns. Her interpetation differs markedly from Gorelik’s. Gorelik’s version, which we have transliterated and translated, differs, here and there, from the original.
Feigl Yudin moved to the United States at the age of 14 from Grodna (Grodno) Gubernia, now in Belarus. Her parents stayed behind in Europe, so upon arriving to New York City she was housed by landslayt (contacts from her hometown), who took care of her until she was able to support herself. A skilled seamstress, Feigl continued working in the needle trades in the US for most of her life and was an active participant in the progressive labor movement.
When the Center presented the landmark concert with legendary clarinetist Dave Tarras on November 19, 1978, at Casa Galicia (now Webster Hall) in Manhattan, Feigl Yudin was a featured artist, among others. A native Yiddish speaker, she loved singing and was one of those people who could hear a melody for the first time and commit it to memory almost instantly. She would say, “When I hear a melody it haunts me and I must get the words.” Feigl had a large repertoire of Yiddish songs which she learned both in Europe and in the US, and, as you will hear, was a beautiful singer.
From Itzik Gottesman:
This love song is a strophic lyric quatrain which is typical of the Yiddish tradition. (See accompanying booklet to LP Folksongs in the East European Tradition from the repertoire of Mariam Nirenberg Prepared by Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett with Mark Slobin and Eleanor Gordon Mlotek, 1986, pages 5 – 6).
Yudin’s repertoire was recorded by Ruth Rubin starting in 1948. Four of her songs are included in the volume Yiddish Songs from the Ruth Rubin Archive (2007) and her song “Ba a taykhele” begins the collection.
It states there that the song was collected in 1967 and other versions can be found in I. L. Cahan’s collection Yidishe folkslider mit melodyes (1957) and the volume by Beregovski and Fefer – Yidishe folkslider (1938).
The suggested parallel in Cahan (song #175) is not convincingly a variant of this song, but the Beregovski and Fefer version is the exact same as Yudin sings it, and I am inclined to think that Yudin learned it from an Amerucan leftist Yiddish chorus/choir where the songs from the Beregovski and Fefer songbook were quite popular.
Bay a taykhele vakst a beymele.
Vaksn af dem tsvaygn.
Mit alemen redstu, mit aleman bistu frayndlekh.
Nor mir heystu shvaygn.
Bay a taykhele vakst a beymele Vaksn oyf dem blumen. (Haynt) freg ikh dir libster – ven vestu shoyn kumen? Ven vestu shoyn a mol kumen?
Bay a taykhele vakst a beymele Vaksn af dem bleter Freg ikh dir libster ven vestu shoyn kumen? Leygst alts op af shpeter.
By a stream a small tree grows.
On it grows branches.
You talk to everyone; you’re friendly with all.
But me – you ask to be silent.
By a stream a small tree grows.
On it grows flowers.
(Today) I ask you my beloved – when will you come already?
When will come for once?
By a stream a small tree grows.
On it grows leaves.
I ask you my beloved when will you come already?
But you keep putting it off for later.
Currently on YouTube, one can hear “Bobe Chana” (Grandmother Chana) sing several Yiddish children’s songs, some less familiar than others. This week we present her song Di veverke (The Squirrel).
We obtained biographical information about Chana Szlang Gonshor from her daughter-in-law, the Montreal Yiddish teacher and scholar, Chana (Anna) Gonshor.
Chana Szlang Gonshor was born in Warsaw in 1919 where her family was very poor. As a young child there she attended the Borochov school and attended the Medem Sanitorium at least 10 times. Anna Gonshor believes she learned her repertoire from these sources. She currently lives in Montreal.
Chana Szlang Gonshor
A video interview with Chana Szlang Gonshor conducted by Jordan Kutzik and Anna Gonshor for the Wexler Oral History Project of the Yiddish Book Center can be found by clicking here.
The song Veverke was composed, both text and melody by Rive Boiarskaia [Boyarski], and we are attaching the music as it is found in her song collection for small children – Klingen hemerlekh (Moscow, 1925). There are some textual changes as Gonshor sings it. The entire book can be downloaded here.
In a vald af a sosneboym –
a veverke gezesn.
Zi hot zikh niselekh geknakt,
di yoderlekh gegesn.
Tants zhe, tants zhe veverke.
Mir veln ale zingen.
Varf arop a nisele,
mir veln ale shpringen.
Un az di veverke derzet
kinderlekh in krantsn.
Aropgevorfn a nisele,
genumen mit zey tantsn.
Tants zhe, tants zhe veverke.
Mir veln ale zingen.
Varf arop a nisele,
mir veln ale shpringen.
In the woods on a pine tree
there sat a squirrel.
She cracked nuts,
and ate the kernels.
So dance, dance squirrel,
We will all sing.
Throw down a nut,
and we will all jump.
And when the squirrel sees
the children in circles,
It threw down a nut
and began to dance with them.
So dance, dance squirrel,
We will all sing.
Throw down a nut,
and we will all jump.
This week’s blog post – song and commentary – was submitted by Larisa Pechersky, who also performs on the recording.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to make my grandmother’s name known and maybe remembered by people who often ask me how I know so many Yiddish songs. I always tell them that it’s because of my grandmother. Now, I hope her story, name, and image will be shared with them for the first time. As always, I dedicate all my work in the field of Jewish folklore and education to her blessed memory.
Milya Shagalova (nee Mikhlya Fle’er / Fleyer), grandmother of Larisa Pechersky in Horki on her 20th birthday
I learned this song from my maternal grandmother when I was a toddler in the late 70s . She lived with my mother and me, and took care of me while my mom worked. All day long, as she worked around the house, she sang hundreds of Yiddish songs and encouraged me to sing along.
She would stop many times during a song to comment and make connections to her life in a Belorussian shtetl, to the experiences of her family and friends, and whatever lessons she wanted me to take away from each song. She often acted out the songs with me and showed me how to express a variety of feelings through a nign without words (just like in this song, Arele, she emphasized how the same nign after each verse can express fear, despair, or relief).
She made each song a window into Jewish life for me, a child growing up in a big city of Leningrad, the cultural capital of the Soviet Union, where forced assimilation was the norm for its more than 150,000 Jews. Assimilation was out of the question for my family, where my grandmother wanted me to know Yiddish and grow up proudly Jewish.
Larisa Pechersky (age 3) and her grandmother, Milya Shagalova, at home in Leningrad
My grandmother, Milya Shagalova (nee Mikhlya Fle’er / Fleyer), was born in 1914 in Propoysk, a shtetl in Mogilievske Guberniye, Belorussia. In the post-revolution years, her father, Zalmen, received a warning that he was to be arrested, stripped of his possessions, and exiled for owning four cows and employing one housekeeper. To avoid this fate, the family fled to Horki, a larger shtetl in the region, his birthplace.
As the third daughter in a family with no sons at the time, little Mikhlya was sent to a traditional all-boys kheyder to study. She told me compassionate stories of the cruel pranks the boys did to the poor old rebbe that she, as the only girl, felt so bad about. Later, she graduated from a seven-year school, where all of the subjects were taught in Yiddish. She wanted to continue on to the Jewish (Yiddish) teachers’ college, but it was no longer possible.
In 1934, as a newlywed, she moved to Leningrad with her husband Naum (Nokhom-Abram), where they lived their whole life afterwards. Despite knowing Russian as well as if it were their native tongue, they always spoke Yiddish at home and with many friends, never missed a Jewish concert or event, and subscribed to Jewish periodicals when it was still possible.
During World War II, my grandma miraculously survived the horrific siege of Leningrad with my three-month old mom, but lost her five-year old son, who was with his grandparents in Horki for the summer, during which the Nazis invaded it and killed 7,500 Jews, including the boy, his four grandparents, and 38 more of our relatives.
My grandpa Naum, who came back from the front without a leg, learned of his son’s initial rescue, swift betrayal, and killing from his former neighbors. My grandma’s lament and guilt that she “sent her own child to death with her own hands” by letting him travel to Belorussia before the war “nobody expected to happen” was one of the stories that she would tell me often.
Larisa and Milya on summer vacation in Ukraine
When the Perestroika had just begun, the very first signs of the Jewish renewal were two concerts of Jewish music at the end of 1988 in Leningrad. My grandma did not miss them despite her poor health and the two of us went together. She felt that they “added seven more years of life” to her. This is how highly she regarded Jewish songs.
To my greatest regret, she passed away in January 1989 before I went to synagogue for the first time and matriculated at the newly created Jewish University that same year. I never recorded any of her songs, but kept hundreds of them in my memory. I still remember some ballads, just partially, and feel terrible that I can’t recall all the words or find them published anywhere.
When my friends and I started a Jewish school in Leningrad, I dedicated my work to giving my students the same as what my grandmother gave me – teaching them every and any thing Jewish through our amazing multi-layered Yiddish songs. Researching Yiddish musical folklore became my profession, passion, and a tribute to my grandma’s bravery and real heroism in passing our musical tradition to new generations amid the tribulations she lived through.
Arele kumt in vald (Arele Comes to the Woods)
This is how I remember learning the words as a child. I understand they sound not totally grammatically correct, but this is how I sang it as a kid.
Most of the time, we sang the second and third verses in the reverse order. The line in question meant Arele wasn’t taken aback; didn’t fear (I don’t remember the Yiddish word). When it was sung as the second verse, it made his attempt to escape appear to be futile given the next stanza (he thought he could run away, but now he can clearly see the dire situation – the mouth, the paws, etc). This way the time between his climbing up the tree, crying in despair, and eventual rescue was much longer and more terrifying in his eyes.
This was the order of the verses my grandma usually used. Switching the verses makes his actions appear more brave (he didn’t lose his head despite realizing all the details of the dangerous situation beforehand). Also, we sang it a bit slower, in a more storytelling manner, than I did in this recording.The English transliteration reflects the Yiddish dialect more than the Yiddish transcription.
Arele kumt in vald, Dreyt zikh ‘hin un ‘her. Ven er dremlt bald
kumt a greyser ber!
Der ber mit lapes greyse! G’valt, dos iz nit gut! Fun eygn trern heyse, Ot iz sheyn kaput!
Arele is nit flit [foyl?] Eyfn beym er kletert. Un der ber mit ofn mul, G’valt, nito keyn reter!
A reter iz ba sholem, A greyser nes getrofn! Geven iz dos a kholem, Ven Arel iz geshlofn!
Arele comes to the woods,
wanders here and there.
When he slumbers, right away comes
a great big bear.
The bear with giant paws!
Help, this is not good.
From his eyes hot tears stream.
Now all is kaput.
Arele is not lazy
and on the tree he climbs.
And the bear with an open mouth
Help, there is no rescue!
A rescue did come in peace;
a great miracle happened.
This was all a dream
while Arele was sleeping.
Az ikh heyb mikh on tsu dermanen
Performance by Lifshe Schaechter-Widman
Recording by Leybl Kahn, NYC, 1954
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman
We have drawn on three sources to look at Lifshe Schaechter-Widman’s singing of Az ikh heyb mikh on tsu dermanen, a Yiddish woman’s song if ever there was one. The wide geographic range of variants (see the notes to the song in Yidisher folklor, 1938), indicates that it dates at least as far as the mid-19th century. The song is a mediation on the tragedy of divorce/abandonment from a woman of the times’ perspective.
The Jewish Daily Forward newspaper in NY ran a column “Gallery of Husbands Who Disappeared” to track down men who abandoned their wives, leaving them “agunes”.
The first source is the recording itself. Since I also heard this song from Lifshe’s daughter – my mother, Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman – I have put Beyle’s alternate words in brackets and I believe those are the “correct” words: “dermanen” not “baklern”, “di blum” instead of “der boym”. Beyle learned the song from Lifshe and there are grammatical indications to support her version.
The second source is the YIVO volume Yidisher folklor, 1938. Song #132 in that work is the same song but heard in Podbroz, near Vilna, Lithuania; quite a distance from Lifshe’s Bukovina homeland. We have included the words and melody of that version in which the singer sings “di roze” instead of Lifshe’s “boym” and “agune” (an abandoned wife) instead of Lifshe’s “grushe” (a divorcee). My mother also sang “agune” and I believe that is how it was most widely sung.
The third source is the Ruth Rubin field-recording housed at YIVO of the fine singer Bill Lubell (hometown unknown). We have not included the recording but have transcribed his words.
In his performance a “woman’s song” has been adapted for a male singer. No longer is there a mention of “widow”, “divorcee” or “abandoned wife”. Without the build-up found in the woman’s version leading to the climactic description of an agune being discarded, the “man’s version” pales in comparison.
In my mind, it does not take too much imagination to interpret the verse “The flower blooms in the woods – the rain falls on her – she then loses her color” in a Freudian manner.
VERSION BY LIFSHE SCHAECHTER-WIDMAN
Az ikh heyb mikh on tsu baklern [dermanen] Az ikh heyb mikh on tsu badenken. Fal ikh arayn in alerley krenken, fal ikh aran in alerley krenken.
When I begin to ponder [remember] When I begin to consider, I fall into all sorts of illnesses.
Alerleyke krenken ken a doktor heyln. Nor mayn krenk Ken ikh keynem nisht dertseyln.
All kinds of illnesses can be cured by a doctor. But about my illness I can tell no one.
Der boym [di blum] vakst in vald Der reygn geyt af ir. Farlirt er [zi ] dekh oykh dem sheynem kolir.
The tree [flower] grows in the forest. The rain falls on it. And so it loses its beautiful color.
Nisht azoy di kolirn vi di sheyne farbn. Eyder aza leybn iz beser tsi shtarbn.
Not so much the colors, as the beautiful colors. Rather than such a life, it would be better to die.
Yingerheyt tsi shtarbn, iz dokh oykh a sakune. Eyder tsi blabn a yinge almune.
To die young is also a danger. Better than remaining a young widow.
An almune blaybt men A’ der man shtarbt avek. A grishe [an agune] nor blaybt men ven der man varft avek.
One becomes a widow when the husband dies. A woman becomes divorced [abandoned] when the husband discards. VERSION FROM PODBROZ, VILNE REGION (from Yidisher folklor, 1938, click to enlarge):
This song performed by Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman is more commonly sung with different Yiddish words and called “Di verbe – The Willow.”
Haim Nakhmen Bialik
The text is based on a poem by the Hebrew-Yiddish poet Haim Nakhmen Bialik, written in Hebrew in 1908. Apparently there were several translations of the poem into Yiddish, and in Chernovitz, Romania this is the translation that was used.
Recorded in the Bronx by Itzik Gottesman, 1980s.
Spoken by Beyle: Bialiks Di verbe hobn mir a bisl andersh gezungen. We sang Bialik‘s “The Willow‟ a little differently.
Nisht of berg un nisht of nider, shteyt a lindnboym, a mider. Ayngeboygn ful mit bleter, un er zogt vos vet zayn shpeyter.
Not on hills, not down below, stands a linden tree, exhausted. Bent over, full of leaves, and he says what will later be.
Kh‘vel tsum boym mayn kop tsileygn, un af mayn khusn vel ikh freygn – Boym, tsi vet er nokh farzamen? Boym, fun vanen vet er shtamen?
I will lay my head on the tree, and will ask about my groom – Tree, will he arrive (too) late? Tree, from where will he come?
Tsi fun poyln, tsi fun vanen? Tsi fun Lite, tsi fun danen? Tsi trugt er perl, gold in pekl? Tsi an urem tfilin-zekl?
From Poland? From where? From Lithuania or from here? Does he carry pearls, gold in his sack? Or a poor man‘s tfilin-bag?
Un vi vet er zayn, boym ziser? Tsi a sheyner, tsi a miser? Tsi a bokher? Tsi a gegeter? Tsi an alter yid zayn vet er?
And what kind will he be, dear tree? A beauty or ugly? Not yet married or divorced? Or will he be an old Jew?
Avi Fuhrman at Circle Lodge (photo by Itzik Gottesman)
Leo Summergrad’s mother, Minnie, and father, Abram Summergrad, on the right side. His in-laws Moishe and Esther Korduner are on the left.
Jacob Gorelik at the Sholem Aleichem Cultural Center in the Bronx.
Yiddish Song of the Week 