Poliker: Shoah and Memory
One of the greatest honors the State of Israel bestows upon its citizens is lighting a torch on Mount Herzl at the Independence Day celebration. One of the people chosen this year is singer and songwriter Yehudah Poliker. Poliker's parents were Holocaust survivors, both Greek Jews from Salonika (Thessaloniki), who were deported to Auschwitz. Leonidas Polikaris, as he was named at birth, grew up to become one of Israel's most beloved musicians, starting with pop and rock, and turning to more introspective lyrics and music.
Poliker joined forces with lyricist Yaakov Gilad, whose mother also survived Auschwitz, and it his image as a second-generation survivor, successful artist, and story-teller, who deals honestly and genuinely with the memory of the Holocaust, that will be in people's mind as he lights the torch this year. I would like to share with the readers two works of Gilad and Poliker.
חַלּוֹן לַיָּם הַתִּיכוֹן- A Window to the Mediterranean
הִבְטַחְתִּי לִכְתּוֹב כְּשֶׁנָסָעְתִּי, וְלֹא כָּתַבְתִּי מִזְמַן
עַכְשָׁו אַתְּ כֹּל כָּךְ חֲסֵרָה לִי, חֲבָל, חֲבָל שֶׁאַתְּ לֹא כָּאן
אַחֲרֵי שֶׁהִגַּעְתִּי לְיָפוֹ, תִּקְווֹת נוֹלְדוּ מִתּוֹךְ יֵאוּשׁ
מָצָאתִי לִי חֶדֶר וָחֵצִי, עַל גָּג שֶׁל בַּיִת נָטוּשׁ
יֵשׁ פֹּה מִיטָה מִתְקַפֶּלֶת, אִם נִרְצֶה שְׁלוֹשְׁתֵנוּ לִישׁוֹן
אַתְּ אֲנִי וְהַיֶּלֶד, מוּל חַלּוֹן מַשְׁקִיף לַיָּם הַתִּיכוֹן
וְאוּלַי מֵרָחוֹק יֵשׁ סִיכּוּי אֶחָד לְמִילְיוֹן
וְאוּלַי מֵרָחוֹק אֵיזֶה אֹשֶׁר מִתְגַּנֵּב אֶל הַחַלּוֹן
שְׁנַת חֲמִישִּׁים סוֹף דֵּצֶמְבֶּר, בַּחוּץ מִלְחֶמֶת רוּחוֹת
הַשֶּׁלֶג צָנַח כָּאן לְפֶתַע, לָבָן מַזְכִּיר לִי נִשְׁכָּחוֹת
עוֹד הַפֶּצַע פָּתוּחַ, לוּ רַק הָיִית אִיתִּי עַכְשָׁו
הָיִיתִי וַדָּאי מְסַפֵּר לָּךְ, אֶת מָה שֶׁלֹא יַגִּיד מִכְתָּב
כָּאן אִם תִּרְצִי יֵשׁ לָּךְ בַּיִת, וְאוֹתִי יִהְיֶה לָּךְ הֲמוֹן
צְחוֹק יְלָדִים בֵּין עַרְבַּיִם, מוּל חַלּוֹן מַשְׁקִיף לַיָם הַתִּיכוֹן
וְאוּלַי מֵרָחוֹק יֵשׁ סִיכּוּי אֶחָד לְמִילְיוֹן
וְאוּלַי מֵרָחוֹק אֵיזֶה אֹשֶׁר מִתְגַּנֵּב אֶל הַחַלּוֹן
I promised to write when I left, and I haven't written in ages.
Now I miss you so much, I wish, I wish that you were here.
After I arrived at Jaffa, hopes were born out of despair. I found me a room and a half, on the roof of an abandoned house.
Here there's a folding bed, if the three of us would like to sleep, you, me, and the child, with a window to the Mediterranean Sea.
And perhaps, from afar, there's a one-in-a-million chance, and perhaps from afar, some happiness sneaks to the window.
Nineteen-fifty, the end of December, outside, a war of storms. Snow suddenly dropped here,
white, reminding me forgotten moments.
The wound is still open, if only you were here with me,
I would surely tell you, what a letter could never say.
Here if you'd want, you'll have a home, and me, you'll have tons, children's laughter at dusk,
and a window to the Mediterranean Sea.
And perhaps, from afar, there's a one-in-a-million chance,
and perhaps from afar, some happiness sneaks to the window.
The song describes a fictional letter written by a Holocaust survivor who came to Israel to his beloved who remained abroad. The letter is written in December of 1950, and the rare phenomenon it mentions, snow falling in the Tel-Aviv region, reminds the writer of the Europe's landscapes which he tries to forget. The Holocaust is mentioned in the song only indirectly when the writer refers to the open wound and to the one-in-a-chance for happiness.
Yaacov Gilad explained that the song is based on the stories that Yehudah's father, Jacko Polikari of Greece, and his own mother, Helena Birnbaum of Poland, both survivors of Auschwitz, told him.
He wrote:
I mainly wondered how they had the courage to bring children into a world, whose most monstrous face they have known and experience so closely. It is still a wonder to me, because both me and Yehudah are children of Holocaust survivors, and we were both born five years after our parents were liberated from Auschwitz. I wondered what went through their heads when they decided to bring children into this world, after the inferno, and in the poverty of the early days of the State of Israel, while their whole world, and everyone whom they loved, were reduced to piles of ashes.
Then, from conversations with my mother and Yehudah's father, we understood that they always had a certain hope that kept them alive, both in the death camps and in the years after the war. It was a hope that they didn't dare give up, because that hope is the essence of humanity, and to give it up would mean to hand a victory to the Devil. This is the background for the refrain. They came here for that slight chance, rebuilt their life from zero, and gave birth to us! This is the whole story.
The second song is called
אפר ואבק
- Ashes and Dust, and it was written by Gilad when his mother Helena decided to travel back to Poland to visit her hometown. He tried to dissuade her from going, arguing that she has no memories to go back to. The words speak for themselves:
יום אביב ריחות לילך, בין חורבות העיר שלך
יום יפה לדוג בנהר, בתוכי הלב נשבר
שם היתה ואינה, ילדותך אישה קטנה
אנשים שאיש לא מכיר, אין אפילו בית שיזכיר
ואם את נוסעת, לאן את נוסעת? הנצח הוא רק אפר ואבק
לאן את נוסעת? לאן את נוסעת? שנים וכלום עוד לא נמחק
קחי מעיל יהיה לך קר, כסף כיס, גביש סוכר
אם יהיו קשים הימים, הזכרי בי לפעמים
ואם זה עוד מסע נואש, אל הצריף, אל המגרש
במסילת העיר הישנה, איש לא יחכה בתחנה
מי ימתיק לילותייך? מי יקשיב לבכייך? מי ישמור צעדייך בדרכך
Dust and Ashes
Spring day, lilac fragrance,
a wonderful day to sail in the river,
my heart in me is broken.
There it was, but now it's gone,
your childhood, little woman.
People whom nobody knows,
there is not even a house to remind...
And if you are going, where are you going?
Eternity is only ashes and dust
Where are you going? Where are you going?
Years, and nothing has yet been erased.
Take a coat, you will be cold,
pocket-money, a sugar cube.
If the days will be harsh,
remember me from time to time.
And if it is another desperate journey
to the barracks, to the court,
no one will wait at the train station.
Who will sweeten your nights? Who will listen to you crying? Who will guard your footsteps?
Where are you going? Where are you going? Years, and nothing has yet been erased.
ת.נ.צ.ב.ה
