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Zelik / ז​ע​ל​י​ק

by Benjy Fox-Rosen

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1.
Shpil du klezmer mir a volekh, Gelt mezumen, ot o tsol ikh, Un du poyker poyk bim-bam- Haynt iz khoge, haynt iz khram. S'hot der vint gepatsht, geshmisn, Di tsintsares mikh gebisn, Zun gebrent mikh un gebrotn- Nisht keyn vent un nisht keyn shotn. S'hot geregnt, s'hot geroset, Nalakes shof hob ikh geposet, Er hot brinza , shof un vol- Ikh geblibn hoyl un gol. Nisht keyn shof un nisht keyn brinza, Un keyn korme far der mindze, Saydn nor a grub afn tsvinter- Iberkumen dort dem vinter. Shpilt zhe shtarker, hey kapelye, Shpilt a doine , shpilt a zhelie! Nisht keyn shof un nisht keyn rinder, Nor a hungerik vayb un kinder. ......................................................... You, musician, play me a volekh, Earn some money, I’ll pay you soon enough, And you drummer, drum- Today is their holiday, today is the harvest festival. The wind beat me and whipped me, Mosquitos bit me, The sun burnt me, roasted me- No walls, and no shadows. It rained and it dewed, I tended his herds of sheep, He has cheese, sheep and wool- I remain empty and hollow. No sheep, and no cheese, And no feed for the mare, Only a grave in the churchyard- To survive the winter. Play louder, Hey musicians, Play a doina, play a lament! No sheep and no cattle, Only a hungry wife and children. Translated by Benjy Fox-Rosen with thanks to Sonia Gollance and Itzik Gottesman
2.
Eyle toldes noyekh, Fun bronfn hot men koyekh, A bisl vayn der iker, Ivanke vert nor shiker- Ken men mishn altn nayem Gist men tsu a bisl mayim: Vakst di kretshme breyter, greser Shoymen vaynen in di feser. Eyle toldes noyekh. Eyle toldes noyekh, Fun bronfn hot men koyekh, A bisl vayn der iker, Ivanke vert nor shiker- Tsolt er shoyn nisht mit mezumen, Mit a skletsl vet er kumen. Vern kamers ful mit tvies Un di kastns mit metsiyes. Eyle toldes noyekh. Eyle toldes noyekh, Filt men zikh in koyekh. Veyst men shoyn vos khay di taytsh iz: Dames, beler, luksn, datshes; Un di kinder- gimnazistn, Doktoyrim vaksn tsi yoristn. Eyle toldes noyekh! Oy! v'eyle toldes noyekh, Avek altsding mitn royekh, S'hobn im di bney vayzose Tsugenumen di parnose; Zitsn meydn un reb yerukhem Brengt far zey nisht keyn shidukhim. V'eyle toldes noyekh. V'eyle toldes noyekh. Er hot shoyn nit keyn koyekh. Klingt dos dorf mit redes, droshes: A piavke noyekh un a roshe iz! Ale vinkln mit geshpenster- Flien shteyner in di fenster. V'eyle toldes noyekh. ............................................ This is the tale of Noah, From whiskey one has strength, A little bit of wine is essential, Ivanke gets only drunker- You can mix the old and the new, Add a splash of water, or two: The tavern grows wider, bigger, The wines froth in their casks, This is the tale of Noah. This is the tale of Noah, From whiskey one has strength, A little bit of wine is essential, Ivanke gets only drunker- He's already run out of cash, He will come with his cart. The store rooms will be full of grains, And the chests brimming with bargains. This is the tale of Noah. This is the tale of Noah, You feel confident, You know what life is for: Ladies, balls, luxuries, country homes; And the children- students at the gymnasium, Future doctors or lawyers. This is the tale of Noah. Oy! This is the tale of Noah, It has all gone up in smoke, Vayzose’s offspring have Taken away his livelihood; The young women sit, Yerukhem The matchmaker has no one for them. And this is the tale of Noah. And this is the tale of Noah, He has no more strength, The village resounds with rumors, falsehoods: Noah is a leech, he is wicked! In every corner is a specter, Stones fly through the windows. And this is the tale of Noah. Translated by Benjy Fox-Rosen with thanks to Sonia Gollance and Itzik Gottesman
3.
Khotsh kh'hob nit keyn prute, Nit keyn shove kesef, Di yad vi zayn shite Shtrekt mikh oys der eysev- Gib ikh. Gib ikh! Oy, oy, oy vey, oy vey gib ikh! Khotsh ikh hob keyn heym nisht, Keyn shtub vu tsu voynen, Di velt, zi traybt un yogt mikh, Kh'tu ir rak nisht loynen- Leb ikh, Leb ikh! Oy, oy, oy vey, oy vey leb ikh! Aza yor af mayne sonim, Sara tam un sara ponim S'hot mayn lebn, mayn farmegn, Un mayn vander af di vegn- Un dokh gib ikh! Un dokh leb ikh! Oy, oy, oy vey, oy vey leb ikh! Khotsh ikh hob keyn fis nisht, Keyn eyver nisht keyn gantsn, Muz ikh zikh a mol dokh hastik-vild tsetantsn- Tants ikh. Tants ikh! Oy, oy, oy, oy vey, oy vey tants ikh! Khotsh ikh hob keyn shtim nisht, Keyn kol vos zol klingen, Muz ikh zikh a mol dokh Vild azoy tsezingen- Zing ikh, Zing ikh! Oy, oy, oy, oy vey, oy vey zing ikh! Aza yor af mayne sonim, Sara tam un sara ponim S'hot mayn lebn, mayn farmegn, Un mayn vander af di vegn- Un dokh tants ikh! Un dokh zing ikh! Oy, oy, oy vey, oy vey leb ikh! ....................................................... Although I haven't got a cent, Nothing of any value, As is his way Esau stretches his hand out to me- I give. I give! Oy vey, I give! Although I have no home, No house to live in, The world drives me and hunts me, I am of no worth to it- I live, I live, Oy vey, I live! A curse on my enemies, Such a taste, and such a face Have my life, my possessions And my wanderings on the paths- And so I give! And so I live! Oy vey I live! Although I have no feet, No complete limbs, I sometimes must Dance rushing wild- I dance, I dance! Oy vey I dance! Although I have no voice, Nothing which could sound, I sometimes must Sing wildly- I sing, I sing! Oy vey I sing! A curse on my enemies, Such a taste, and such a face Have my life, my possessions And my wanderings on the paths- And so I dance! And so I sing! Oy vey I live! Translated by Benjy Fox-Rosen with thanks to Sonia Gollance and Itzik Gottesman
4.
In mayn kleynem, tunklen tsimer Zits ikh eynzam un fargesn. Dikh mekane bin ikh, bruder, Dayne feygl monen esn. In a vinkl hengt a shpin dort, Nogt fun flign oys dos khayes. In dem nign fun der gril dort her ikh lang shoyn nit keyn nayes. Vest mikh rotn, vest mikh eytsn Zikh a nestl oystsuboyen. Nor mayn harts vos filt dem shturem Lozt keyn feygl mikh nisht khoven. Vagn toybn, vayse toybn, Flien fun di khmares hekher. Falt a regn, ritshkes yogn, Farbn blutik royt di tekher. Akh, di khmares, un di shpinen, Un vi vey mir tuen di toybn- Du zest bruder, feygl veynen, Un ikh- blutik royte shoybn. ........................................................ In my small, dark room I sit lonely and forgotten. I am jealous of you brother, Your birds demand their food. In a corner hangs a spider, He gnaws the life from flies. It is long since I have heard anything new in the cricket's song. You will counsel me, advise me To build myself a little nest. But my heart, which feels the storm Won't allow me to shelter any birds. White doves dare, to fly higher than the clouds. A rain falls, the streams rush, Coloring the rooftops blood red. Oh, the clouds, and the spiders, And how the doves make me ache- You see brother, birds cry, And I- blood red windowpanes. Translated by Benjy Fox-Rosen with thanks to Sonia Gollance and Itzik Gottesman
5.
Ver s'hot felder, Ver s'hot velder, Ver s'hot a droshke, Un ikh hob nor tsores, dales, A balbeysl moshke. Hey, ferdlekh flit zhe yogt zhe, Shlept zhe di parshoynim: Moshken revekh muz men brengen, Andersh vet nisht loynen. Ver s'hot shof Un ver s'hot rinder, Ver s'hot gor tekher, Un ikh hob a vayb un kinder, hoyzn ful mit lekher. Ver s'zitst af shtuln, benklekh, Un ver in foteln, Un ikh zits af moshkes kelnye Trayb tsu di hoteln. Zukh a porets zikh a khone, A mlune zukh a latkhn, Muz ikh hern, zen un shvaygn, Tsu mol nokh zayn der shadkhn. Brent der frost, brot di zun, Tsi s'geyt a regn, Ikh muz shtendik umetum Zukhn naye vegn. .......................................................... Some have fields, Some have forests, Some have a wagon, And I have only troubles, poverty, And a boss, Moshke. Hey horses, fly, pull, Shlep the people: Moshke needs his profits, Or I don’t earn. Some have sheep, Some have cattle, Some have only rags, And I have a wife and children, And pants full of holes. Some sit on stools, benches, And some in easy chairs, And I sit on Moshke’s coach Driving to the hotels. A rich man looks for a hooker, A crook looks for a hideout, I must hear, see and be silent, And sometimes be the matchmaker. The frost burns, the sun roasts, It may even rain, I must always Look for new ways. Translated by Benjy Fox-Rosen with thanks to Sonia Gollance and Itzik Gottesman

about

Mir filn a viln
dem veytik tsu shtiln,
mit a lidl, a tentsl,
a bisele shpil.

We feel an urge,
To quiet our pain,
With a song, a dance,
And little music

- Zelik Barditshever


"Z. Barditshever was a Yiddish teacher in Bessarabia; the majority of his work was done in Balti...About his influences, his theatrical and pedagogical work as well as his literary work, others should tell [about them] because I do not know enough. He died in 1937 in Iași, he was 39 years old.

"Barditshever published practically nothing, not even his own songs. He wrote them, and sang them, and that is how they were made public. They arrived to us through song.

"In early 1937 I wrote to him, telling him that we were preparing to print a booklet of his songs. He immediately agreed and replied, 'My sickness is getting worse. I must travel to Iasi for a longer period of time to recover. Understandably, my mind is otherwise occupied at this time. But I have included ten songs, which I am sending you. I depend completely on you...'

"In a later letter, 'I trust you, because I know that you will undertake the burden of my little songs, which is not worse than they remaining with me. Please understand, if there is a cover, if there is an image on it, it should be in good taste, but folksy, like I love...the same with the foreword; no advertisements, no exaltations- just straightforward and honest. Maybe with a motto? Write: mir filn a viln/ dem veytik tsu shtiln/ mit a lidl, a tentsl/ a bisele shpil. We feel an urge/ to quiet our pain/ with a song, a dance, and little music.'"

- Hirsh Segal, from the self-published edition of Lider mit nigunim, published in Rehovot, 1980. Translated by B. Fox-Rosen


I recorded this EP at the end of a Fulbright Fellowship to the Republic of Moldova in 2012-13. There are several people with whom that experience would not have been possible, and they played a major part in my time in Chișinau and are therefore implicated into this project. Firstly, Efim Chorny and Suzanna Ghergus, whom I first met at the Klezkanada Retreat in 2008. Their performances at that retreat first tempted me with the sounds of Moldova. They later welcomed me graciously to their home town. Jake Shulman-Ment, who introduced me to musicians Adrian Receanu and Petru Baranciuc and who inspired me with his own research in Botoșani, Romania. Sebastian Shulman, who hosted me during my first visit to Moldova and in whose presence we tasted the sweet fruit wine of the Ribinitser Rebbe’s neighbor. Diana Bunea, who introduced me to my Moldovan voice teacher, the incredible Ioan Paulencu. Maestro Paulencu himself whose generosity of spirit rivals only the depths of his voice. Irina Shikhova, who gave me the PDF of Barditshever’s songs. Slava Farber, singer, entertainer, lover of all things Yiddish and interpreter of Barditshever’s work. Petru Baranciuc, who essentially produced this EP, connecting me to Grigore Pătrașcu, Slava and their wonderful recording studio. The musicians Marin Bunea, Victor Coman and Sergiu Diaconu who played wonderfully and immediately connected to this material, and made time for the recording during ‘wedding season’. Thank you to Alice Popovici for photographing the recording session. To Eve Sicular, for encouraging me to finally share these recordings. And thanks to Sonia Gollance and Itzik Gottesman for taking the time to help me with the translations of these songs. Finally, a tremendous thank you to my partner Julie Dawson for your curiosity for this part of the world which infected me so thoroughly.

credits

released September 1, 2021

Marin Bunea- violin
Victor Coman- accordion
Sergiu Diaconu- cobza
Benjy Fox-Rosen- voice and bass.
All songs composed and written by Zelik Barditshever (1903-1937)

Recorded and Mixed June 2013, Chișinau, Moldova

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Benjy Fox-Rosen Vienna, Austria

Benjy Fox-Rosen (Los Angeles, 1984) is a singer, bassist and composer based in Vienna, Austria. Fox-Rosen has been commissioned to write works for choirs, artistic interventions, and audio-installations; he has produced two CDs of his own music, both of which were recognized by the Forward in the top-five Jewish music album of the year category. ... more

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