Repertoire

Donor Acknowledgement

Special thanks to Sofie van Lier at Jewish Music Projects (Amsterdam, The Netherlands) who generously provided sheet music to two movements (V Ocheredi and A Sinagoge) missing from the published score of Music to The Story of The Red-Haired Mottele; Miriam Koral, who provided text recordings of Yiddish texts; Robby Good, Morgan Moss and Carlos Duran, who provided transposed versions of some of the scores; the David Vikter Foundation for their generous support of our programs.

 

Additional thanks to the Lowell Milken Center staff Mark Kligman (Director), David Brown (Manager) and Sharyl Holtzman (Event Coordinator), for their tireless assistance in helping make this concert possible, and our hard working tech team.

 

 

Program Notes

BACK TO THE SOURCES: PART II

TEXT TRANSLATIONS

 

Joel Engel (1868-1927)

 

Kaddish of Reb Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev, Op. 23, No. 2

 

(1923; Yiddish text by Reb Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev; translator unknown)

Good morning to You, Lord, Master of the universe,

I, Levi Yitzhak, son of Sarah of Berdichev,

I come to You with a Din Torah* from Your people Israel.

 

What do You want of Your people Israel?

What have You demanded of Your people Israel?

For everywhere I look it says, “Say to the Children of Israel.”

And every other verse says, “Speak to the Children of Israel.”

And over and over, “Command the Children of Israel.”

 

Father, sweet Father in heaven,

How many nations are there in the world?

Persians, Babylonians, Edomites.

(The Russians, what do they say?

That their Czar is the only ruler.)

The Prussians, what do they say?

That their Kaiser is supreme.

And the English, what do they say?

That George the Third is sovereign.

 

And I, Levi Yitzhak, son of Sarah of Berdichev, say,

“Yisgadal v ‘yiskadash shmei raboh –

Magnified and sanctified is Thy Name.”

 

And I, Levi Yitzhak, son of Sarah of Berdichev, say,

“From my stand I will not waver,

And from my place I shall not move

Until there be an end to all this.

 

Yisgadal v’yiskadash shmei raboh –

Magnified and sanctified is only Thy Name.”

*legal brief

 

Omrim: Yeshna Eretz (They Say There Is a Land)

Op. 39, No. 1 from Three Songs on Texts by Tchernikowsky

(1923; Hebrew text by Shaul Tchernikowsky; translation by Neal Stulberg)

 

 

They say there is a land

a land drunk with sun.

Where are you, land?

Where, this sun?

 

They say there is a land

containing seven pillars,

seven planets gazing over every hill.

 

A land where all that man hoped for

will come to pass,

everyone who enters

meets there Akiva.

 

“Shalom to you, Akiva!

Shalom to you, Rabbi!

Where are the holy?

Where are the Maccabees?”

 

Akiva answers him,

the Rabbi tells him:

“All the people of Israel are holy,

You are the Maccabees!”

 

Lazare Saminsky (1882-1959)

 

Hebrew Lullaby from First Hebrew Song Cycle, Op. 12, No. 1

(1914; Yiddish text [traditional]; English translation by Mary Ellis Opdyckes)

 

 

Bye Bye, Sleepyhead,

Father works when you’re in bed;

Soon he’ll bring as a treat

little shoes for baby’s feet.

 

Then to Cheder* must baby hurry,

So that mother need not worry,

So that as our baby grows,

Father will see how much he knows.

 

Bye, Bye, Sleepyhead,

Father works when you’re in bed;

Soon he’ll bring as a treat

little shoes for baby’s feet.

 

*religious school

 

Loneliness from First Hebrew Song Cycle, Op. 12, No. 2

(1915; Yiddish text by S. An-sky; English poetic translation by Neal Stulberg)

 

 

The air is clear, the heavens pure,

The night is still and full with dreams

The stars twinkle large and small,

The path ahead, like a marble stone.

 

Oh, mighty God,

Your world is brilliant like the Kaiser’s crown,

And I, Thy son, how like a stone,

Am I miserable, weary and alone.

 

Six Songs of the Russian Orient (1928)

 

I.   Orovèla (after a Georgina harvest song)

 

O you poor, gentle ox of mine,

How hard your burden.

Orovèla, Orovèla.

 

You share my daily work with me, my faithful friend,

O you stalwart, quiet slave of mine.

Orovèla, Orovèla.

 

II.   Deli Yaman (after an Armenian song)

 

O, my heart!  A fire has come and consumed my house…

O my luckless land!

 

III.  Kouïlyap (“On the Distant Ridge”) (Russian; after a Bashkir song from the Ural Mountains)

 

On the distant ridge,

Shaghey sits alone, forlorn.

How lovely is our village,

but the path is perilous.

It would be sweet to return,

but an enemy awaits.

 

IV.   “Shir Hashirim” (Hebrew; after “The Song of Songs” of the Georgian Jews of Akhaltzizh)

(Translation by jewishvirtuallibrary.org)

 

 

The Song of songs, which is Solomon’s:

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth – for thy love is better than wine.

Thine ointments have a goodly fragrance; thy name is as ointment poured forth; therefore do the maidens love thee.

Draw me, we will run after thee; the king hath brought me into his chambers; we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will find thy love more fragrant than wine! Sincerely do they love thee.

 

V.    An Armenian Dance Song (wordless)

 

VI.  Ah, This Misting Day (Russian; after a Cossak song from Northern Caucasia)

(Translation by Lazare Saminsky)

 

Ah, this misting day,

I’m not permitted to finish my plowing in the field

So much work to finish.

 

O go with me, my dear.

Let’s go walking, sweetheart, in the green garden.

In the green garden, the nightingale is singing.

 

Moshe Milner (1866-1953)

 

In Cheder (In School) (1914)

(1912; Yiddish text by Moshe Milner; translation by Samuel Zerin)

 

Come here, little boy, closer to me,

And take a look at the little letters –

The beloved letters, golden letters!

Quickly, quickly, come here.

 

Come here, little boy, closer to me,

And take a look at the little letters —

The beloved letters, golden letters!

Quickly, quickly, come here.

 

Don’t be afraid!

Don’t worry!

 

That’s it.

Have a seat and listen to each letter carefully.

Sit down!

That’s right.

Listen to:

 

Kometz alef: ”Oh”

Kometz beyz: “Boh”

Kometz gimel: “Goh”

Kometz daled: “Doh!”

 

Pasakh alef: “Ah”

Pasakh beyz: “Bah”

Pasakh gimel: “Gah”

Pasakh daled: “Gah!”

 

That’s it, little boy,

That’s right, one must learn, little boy!

Oh, no, darling child!

Take a look at the prayer book

And say them again:

 

Kometz alef: “Oh”

Kometz beyz: “Boh”

 

Louder!

Stronger!

Oh…

Boh…

 

That’s right, one must learn, little boy!

 

Ah…

Bah…

Gah…

Dah…

 

Louder!

Stronger!

 

That’s right, one must learn, little boy!

 

Ah…

Bah…

Gah…

Dah…

 

That’s it!

More joyfully!

Livelier!

You rascal!

 

That’s it, little boy,

One must learn Torah!

 

Torah is the best merchandise.

 

Would you be a darling little boy?

You shouldn’t be a rascal.

Oy, you’re a rascal, little boy!

 

Enough already.

Close the prayer book.

You’re free.

 

Remember, my child,

A Jew must learn Torah;

 

The Holy Creator told us so.

So when everyone asks you

What you did in school,

You should tell them you learned Torah!

 

Remember: Torah.

Repeat it: Torah.

Torah…Torah…Torah…

 

El Hatzipor (To the Bird)

(1922; Text by Chaim Bialik; translation by Ziva Shavitsky)

 

 

Welcome upon your return, sweet bird,

From the warm countries to my window –

How my soul longs to hear your pleasant voice

In winter when you leave my dwelling.

 

Sing, tell, dear bird,

From a land of wondrous distance,

Are the troubles and suffering great

There too in the warm and beautiful land?

Do you bear me greetings from my brethren in Zion,

From my distant yet close brethren?

Oh happy ones!  Do they know

That I suffer, oh, suffer pain?

 

Do they know how plentiful my memories are here,

How many, oh how many rise against me?

Sing my bird, wondrous things from a land,

Where spring dwells forever.

 

Unter die grininke Bojmelech (Beneath the Little Green Trees)

(1913; Text by Chaim Bialik; translator unknown)

 

Beneath the little green trees,

Little Moysheles and Shloymeles play.

With their fringes, little frock coats and peyes*,

Little Jews, freshly hatched.

 

Little bodies made of straw, smoke and feathers

If you only blew on them they would take flight

Gentle winds could lift them up

And little birds carry them away…

 

But one thing they do have is eyes,

Their eyes have a pair of pupils that glow and blink and sparkle

Prophetic and marvelous.

They deliberate and contemplate impossible visions and little birds.

Oh, may you be spared, Jewish children, for the sake of your pure little eyes!

 

*sidelocks

 

 

Ad Ana Adonaj (Until When, Lord)

(1923; Hebrew from Psalm 13; translation by psalmstudy.com)

 

 

Until when, Lord, will You forget me? Eternally? How long will You hide Your face from me?

Until when long will I seek counsel in my soul, grief in my heart all day long?

Until when will my enemy be raised up over me?

Watch over and answer me, Lord my God; send light to my eyes. If not, I will sleep the sleep of death.

If not, my enemy will say, “I bettered him”; my tormentors will rejoice in my stumbling.

But as for me, in Your compassion I trust; my heart will rejoice in Your deliverance.

I will sing to the Lord, for He has bestowed favour upon me.

 

Mikhail Gnessin (1883-1957)

 

Music to “The Story of The Red-Haired Mottele” Op. 44 (1926-1929)

(1926-1929; Russian text by Joseph Utkin; translation by Jewish Music Projects)

 

I.    Introduction

 

“The Story of Red-headed Mottele”

To lyrics by Joseph Utkin, Music by Mikhail Gnessin.

 

II.   Song of the Red-Haired Mottele

 

Grandfather and Father worked.

Would he be better than others?

And little red-headed Mottele worked for two.

 

What he wanted, was not given to him. (Yet he kept his dreams).

Although he yearned to study the Torah, he was taught to be a tailor.

 

So what?  Should he cry?  No means no.

So he put ten patches on a single vest.

 

III.   Whose Business It Is and Whose It Isn’t

 

Trousers! Waistcoats! Have a laugh!

Have fun on my special day.

Mister Police Chief is in prison?!

 

This is really happening. My God!

But why isn’t the Mr. Mayor laughing?

 

The shoemaker Ilya spoke exceptionally wise words,

“Mottele, this is not God’s business,

It’s yours and mine!”

 

And the days passed,

Randomly hung buttons of stars,

And the moon like a yarmulke.

 

IV.   At the Market

 

Med is startled at the market.

And not only Med, but the whole crowd.

A procession is passing down the street.  Towards the station?

 

But that’s not what really matters.

Most important (may he be damned!) is that,

walking in the procession with the Star of David is Mottele Bloch!

He marches down Main Street like a parade general?!

 

Med is startled at the market,

And the whole crowd is startled!

 

V.    Standing in Line

 

The people in line are shouting,

Shouting and shoving:

 

“Why don’t they have sugar? Sugar, why don’t they have any?”

 

Perhaps they are too lazy.

Is it so difficult to work for one hour?

Let Lenin’s life be as good as ours.

 

What are you doing here, Sarah?

What can the blind man provide

when the commissar is a tailor?

He ought to be patching shirts.

Yet he’s a commissar here ….

 

The people in line are shouting.

Shouting and shoving.

 

VI.   The Clock: Song of Current Affairs

 

Where is it rushing?

This weird clock!

Oh, how her heart is beating,

Oh, how crooked are her whiskers!

 

Stop! Is anybody chasing you?

Go back a a bit.

Like a cavalry, the clock

Flies ever forward…

 

VII.   In the Synagogue

 

In the synagogue there is hustle and bustle

All the Jews are in the pews.

 

“Quiet, Sshh.” Reh Avraham comes forward.

 

In the synagogue, there is hustle and bustle.

 

Gvalt!*  Reb Avraham says, “My God!”

The Jews say, “Doom.”

 

Reb Avraham says, “We have come to this!”

The Jews say, “Yes.”

 

And the rabbi sits down and laments. Quietly, humbly.

And then he says: “Bad!”

 

*Horrors!

 

VIII.   Funeral Song

 

The room… silence… dust…

The room… evening… blue.. . The alarm clock goes off.

Ring… ring… ring…

 

The time of death approaches

Softly, softly, it can’t be heard.

And happiness leaves without a sound. And the mice disappear, too.

Only sorrow remains the same.

 

The Passover tea kettle is rusty. The walls are plunged in thought.  And…mute.

 

The white-armed midnight wind will snow, will thunder.

No longer necessary are the Talmud and the trousers.

 

Silence…dusk is falling.  There is no prayer or supper…Your table, Isaiah, will be used in a new way now.

 

And after that — off to the other place: to paradise, of course, nothing less…

 

Silence…the candles are burning out.

Silence!  Sarah is weeping.

 

IX.   What the Trick Is (Thinking About Life)

 

What does it mean:  Man wants?  As if that is determined by men!

 

Of course, we all always want golden rivers.

We all want sugar, so to speak, but it turns out differently.

Yes, if you want to laugh,

surely you will weep.

 

But let us live!

A new age, a different iron, a different roof, –

And the same person becomes a head taller.

 

For the bird, it is the nest that matters most. Under the sun, every corner is bright.

 

Behold Mottele: From morning ‘til evening he sits in his stuffy office.

He sits as “Mr. Big,” and “no means no” is no longer heard here.

 

What’s the trick? Is it a secret?…

A new age.  A different iron.  A different roof.. .

 

O, Time!  Bad or good…it turns out this way or that.

 

And when the time comes for the new,

For the old, it’s finished…