Rajzel Zychlinsky, great Yiddish poet, winner of Itzik Manger's Price, granted
at Tel Aviv on 9 June 1975. Rajzel Zychlinsky was born in Gombin, Poland.
The photograph was dedicated by her to my aunt, Rachel Gostinska and is part of
my father, Meir Holtzman' Album. Rajzel is photographed in the woods of Gombin
1934.
Rajzel
Zychlinsky z"l
by Marek Kanter, Son
Rajzel Zychlinksy z"l, a Yiddishe Poet
July 27th, 1910 Gombin, Poland - June 13th, 2001 , Concord,
U.S.A.
Marek Kanter:
Rajzel Zychlinsky, the famous Yiddish poet, passed away on June 13, 2001 in Concord, California, after a long struggle with pneumonia.
She would have been 91 on July 27, 2001. She was well known for her holocaust poetry and received the Manger prize in 1975 in Israel. One of relatively few living Yiddish poets, the widely published Zychlinsky has been writing since the 1920's. Between 1939 and 1993 she published seven books of poetry in Yiddish. A collection of poems, "God Hid His face", was translated to English and published in 1997. She has been extensively translated and anthologized. She was included in Aaron Kramer's well known anthology: "A Century of Yiddish Poetry." |
For the last two years she resided in a nursing home in Walnut Creek, California, where her son Marek Kanter paid her weekly visits. On these occasions she enjoyed being read poems from her book "God Hid His Face." One of her favorite poems was about a neighbor across the street where she lived in Brooklyn. It was performed by the Traveling Jewish Theater in San Francisco as part of their 1998-99 production "Diamonds in the Rough." |
The
Undarkened Window
In the daytime, I
see him in the street
in a dark suit,
shaved,
combed,
wearing a tie -
at night the light
shines in his window
across from my
window.
A survivor
of Hitler's gas
chambers,
he sails at night
around
his undarkened
window -
a wandering ship
on oceans of
darkness,
and no port
allows it to enter,
so it may anchor
and darken.
Only in the
mornings
does it go out,
the sickly yellow
light
in his window.
An article about Rajzel Zychlinsky appeared in the January 29, 1999 issue of the Northern California Jewish Bulletin, which contained the remainder of Zychlinsky's poems performed by the Traveling Jewish Theater.
Rajzel Zychlinzky was born in Gombin, Poland. She emigrated to the United States in 1950, with her husband and son, having survived the holocaust by fleeing to Russia. She continued to suggest changes and corrections to her poems up till four months before her death. The last revisions she made were to her poem about a walk in a park in Warsaw, shortly before she fled to Russia.
I Remember
I remember-
It was a day
like today-
I was alone in a
park.
The benches were
empty and abandoned,
as if they knew
that never again
would anyone sit on
them.
Slowly the leaves
were falling,
counting the
autumns on the earth.
Silence was all
around,
as before a storm.
In what country was
that?
In what city?
It was a temple
without a God
and without
worshipers.
And how did I rise
up from there
and save myself?
Most visits to the nursing home ended with the recital of one of the most powerful of her poems.
All the roads led
to death,
all the roads.
All the winds
breathed betrayal,
all the winds.
At all the doorways
angry dogs barked,
at all the
doorways.
All the waters
laughed at us,
all the waters.
All the nights
fattened on our dread,
all the nights.
And the heavens
were bare and empty,
all the heavens.
God hid his face.
As she requested, she will be cremated and her ashes will be scattered in the ocean. A poem from her book, "God Hid His Face", will be read at the ceremony. She is survived by her son, Marek Kanter.
The Poet Rajzel Zychlinsky z"l in the film "Back to Gombin"
filmed shortly before her death: "Like we hear the water flow, GOD must
exist somewhere..."
Article about Rajzel Zychlinsky Jewish Bulletin of Northern California, Jan. 29 1999
שווייגנדיקע טירן - לידער - "Mute Doors"
"GOD Hid His Face"
- the Book with the Translated Poems in
English
SELECTED POEMS:
פון
א וואלקן קוקט
אויף מיר די מאמע "My Mother Looks at Me from the
Cloud"
גאט האט פארנאהאלטן זיין פנים "God Hid His Face"
איך וויל נאך אמאל דא גיין איבערן גראז "I Want to Walk Here Once More"
מיר לעבן וויטער "We Go On Living"
Who calls me here in the meadow?
Who still knows my name?
A thorn bush burns in the field--
a child cries from the flames.
I take off my shoes and approach
the little son of my neighbor;
his little hands are charcoal,
but his eyes are open still.
I
am leaving you, shtetl,
your roads are blue as before.
You will celebrate autumns and fairs,
and the river will flow through the valley.
Last Updated
December 2nd, 2003