Usually, I think I'm a pretty hardhearted sort of a person. But today, I was transcribing the Yiddish lyrics of several ghetto ballads into Le Thesis, and I almost broke down. If you listen to enough songs of terror and tragedy, your mind goes kind of numb after a while, and the songs stop meaning anything in particular. But there is one song that always, always makes me cry. It's called "Motele from the Warsaw Ghetto," by Reuven Lipshitz. The singable English translation from Jerry Silverman's The Undying Flame is:
In the narrow streets throughout the ghetto,
Where the sunlight's hardly ever found,
On his body clothes all torn and tattered,
The old tailor's son does run around.
Early ev'ry morning, like a shadow,
With his pallid lips that show his dread,
Steals right through the barbed wire of the ghetto,
Looking for a little piece of bread.
Chorus: Motele, a charming youngster,
Motele does pass the test.
Motele is very lucky,
For our Motl is some kid, one of the best!
Jews are fighting back against barbarians,
Streams of blood the ghetto streets do trace.
Helping build the barricades is Motl,
Deathly pale with rage is his small face.
In the fire bright blue eyes are shining,
Thirst and hunger drying out his tongue.
His brave heart with horror it is beating:
For his people's sake he shoots his gun.
Motele, a charming youngster,
Motele does pass the test.
Motele is very lucky,
For our Motl is some kid, one of the best!
Dzhike, Fave, Mile, Niske, Genshe,
Tongues of fire blazing all around.
Cannons roar and all of Warsaw trembles,
Save us! We hear the helpless cry resound.
In the smoke of bombs and cannonades then,
Motl's name did float above the fray.
Died a hero on the barricades then --
He didn't live till his Bar-Mitzvah day.
Motele, a charming youngster,
Motele does pass the test.
Motele is very lucky,
For our Motl is some kid, one of the best!
Twelve years old. At the oldest. Twelve. That's how old Motl was. I think that's what gets me, every single time I read it or listen to the recording.
I can't wait for Le Thesis to be done. T minus three days. Almost there.
In the narrow streets throughout the ghetto,
Where the sunlight's hardly ever found,
On his body clothes all torn and tattered,
The old tailor's son does run around.
Early ev'ry morning, like a shadow,
With his pallid lips that show his dread,
Steals right through the barbed wire of the ghetto,
Looking for a little piece of bread.
Chorus: Motele, a charming youngster,
Motele does pass the test.
Motele is very lucky,
For our Motl is some kid, one of the best!
Jews are fighting back against barbarians,
Streams of blood the ghetto streets do trace.
Helping build the barricades is Motl,
Deathly pale with rage is his small face.
In the fire bright blue eyes are shining,
Thirst and hunger drying out his tongue.
His brave heart with horror it is beating:
For his people's sake he shoots his gun.
Motele, a charming youngster,
Motele does pass the test.
Motele is very lucky,
For our Motl is some kid, one of the best!
Dzhike, Fave, Mile, Niske, Genshe,
Tongues of fire blazing all around.
Cannons roar and all of Warsaw trembles,
Save us! We hear the helpless cry resound.
In the smoke of bombs and cannonades then,
Motl's name did float above the fray.
Died a hero on the barricades then --
He didn't live till his Bar-Mitzvah day.
Motele, a charming youngster,
Motele does pass the test.
Motele is very lucky,
For our Motl is some kid, one of the best!
Twelve years old. At the oldest. Twelve. That's how old Motl was. I think that's what gets me, every single time I read it or listen to the recording.
I can't wait for Le Thesis to be done. T minus three days. Almost there.
- Current Music:The dead silence of the library on Sunday
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You know, I (vaguely) remember touching on holocaust poetry when I was doing my degree. I definitely did an essay on Paul Celan and I remember some of the words to ‘Todesfuge’. And something about Theodor Adorno saying that writing poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric. Sorry, that was a totally random comment but you just reminded me and it’s frustrating me that I can’t remember more of that class!
I do mention Adorno in Le Thesis, in the way that most ethnomusicologists do these days. Current procedure is to give his quote, primarily to prove that one is aware of it, and then proceed to explain why he a) is full of himself, b) completely misses the point, or c) just had no clue what he was talking about. Ethnomusicologists don't agree on much, but they do agree about Adorno.
I honestly don't see how you can work with such horribly sad topics and still remain as 'up' as you seem to be.
Part of it is that I'm a little crazy. But you knew that.
I hope you rework and publish your thesis when you are finished.
I was just discussing this with a friend yesterday. I gave her a chapter-by-chapter summary of Le Thesis, and she pointed out one specific chapter that she thought I could turn into a good journal article. It happens to be my favorite chapter out of the bunch. I think maybe when I get to Chicago, I'll ask my new advisor to help me turn that chapter into an article.
I've been working on articles about 9-11 for publication. TEN of them. I have to stop sometimes. It's not easy. This wouldn't be easy, either. The poem just made me cry.
Anything where good people who shouldn't die makes me cry anymore. That can't be an easy subject at all. But I'm sure you will give it the attention it deserves, and the respect, and do it wonderfully, as you always do. Unless you can distance yourself, working with that day in and day out wouldn't be good for you at all...and who wants to be able to distance themselves that much?
LeDissertation I hope is on something that's really FUN!
BIG hugs again.
-Dira-
Right now, I'm thinking I'll study women cantors for Le Dissertation.