Story Behind the Song
The subject of the Holocaust is very close to my heart. When Jacob Barzilai told me that I could choose between love poetry and Holocaust poetry, which he wrote, I knew immediately that the latter would have a deep meaning for me. I chose for my composition seven poems expressing Jacob's longing for his father, whom he lost when he was eleven years old.
The sailing of Sfinat Ahava (Boat of love) is expressed by a melody over an accompaniment, which depicts soft eternal waves.
Lehitatef Betsahov (Wrapped in yellow) is a very bitter poem and in writing the music I used some dissonant chords and tone clusters to express bitterness and anger.
Avanim (Rocks) is a most lyrical poem and I just tried to match it with a suitable melody.
Gam Haefer (Also the ashes) flow in a stormy river. It is a very short song relating to the short life of the poet's father.
Mechake Le'avi (Longing for my father) is the poem after which the whole cycle is named. It is painful, cynical and with many deceiving spots of light and hope, which I tried to portray in the music.
Nigun Atik (Ancient melody) takes the form of a story, as does the melody. The piano accompaniment goes along and follows the story's turbulences. A traditional folk melody (nigun) is repeated as a refrain and I set it to a harmonic progression reflecting the sadness and tragedy. After composing the song I realized that the four notes, which spell the name BACH, appear in the melody.
Merkava Sh'chora (Black carriage) is very dramatic. I couldn't help being reminded of, and thus also somewhat influenced by, the famous Schubert - Goethe Lieder "Erlkoenig".
Rami Bar-Niv
Lyrics
English translation by Rami Bar-Niv
Sfinat Ahava - Boat of Love
We swam in the river towards each other.
Transparent foamy bubbles played in the water,
riding the waves as saddles.
Father sailed towards me a boat of love.
I sailed towards him a boat of longing.
In the course of time his boat hit a rock and sank.
My boat is still sailing, longing for the bottom of the sea.
Lehitatef Betsahov - Wrapped in Yellow
Small steps, like an acrobat on a rope, like an archeologist over excavations, careful and hesitant, I relive my patched youth.
Patches of embroidery turning autumn yellow,
like a pile of dying yellow leaves in the fall.
Underneath them I hide like an ant.
Still remembering a river whose water had been created blue,
but now its waves are covered with yellow.
Yellow are the leaves at the seasons' junction,
as yellow as my father's face when the angel arrived.
Yellow is the star shining on God's forgotten and unchosen,
and on God's child who was chosen to die in his youth.
Avanim - Rocks
When I faced the rock of the lost in Jerusalem, inquiring about my loss,
I was not answered.
Only on the stone in my garden is the impression of your face engraved.
And I grew older with your young face.
When my sun sets and I become lifeless as a stone, there will be only one stone left in my garden, engraved with your image, long after I am gone.
Gam Ha'efer - Also the Ashes
My father's life passed like a night train that does not stop at every station.
But also the ashes flowing in the river were once a father.
Mechake Le'avi - Longing for my Father
When the days of our Messiah come and all the dead in their graves will be resurrected, will I be so lucky as to see again my father, whose grave was never dug?
Should I ask about winds that carried his ashes?
Should I put my right hand in the fire rising from hell?
Or should I search the bonfire for a last ember?
Maybe I should walk in the fields, perhaps on the side of the paths.
Is my father there, or am I just dreaming?
When the last of the dead are resurrected, light my road, my good Lord.
Where shall I wait for my father?
Nigun Atik - Ancient Melody
On the threshold of my home I found footsteps of musical notes.
Faded pages of songs were carried by stormy winds, from one end of the universe to another, abandoning them at my front door.
Forty winters and more echo in my ears the whistle of the wind and the sounds of the song, an ancient melody that my father sang to me and to his God on the days and nights of the New Year Holy Days.
The holy day entered with a flush of bright light, overflowing the house of God.
At the end of 1943, a divine spirit flying among the prayer shawls,
and a submissive crowd standing on its feet singing the tune:
"On New Year's Day you shall be inscribed."
On the eve of Atonement Day the sky turned into a barn filled with prayers of millions of believers.
When the gates of the Holy Ark opened, a huge wave of begging overflowed the ark and the herd, following its shepherd, stood up and sang:
"On the fasting Day of Atonement you shall be sealed."
As soon as the ceremonial signing was finished the smoke came up from the destroyed cities, fire catching the ends of prayer shawls, demolishing forests of people.
Morning dew is burning, the scent of flowers is choking in smoke,
butterflies will not soar to the sun, and the beast is superior to man.
Parasites of time suck the marrow of my memories.
Forty winters and more echo in my ears the whistle of the wind and the sounds of the song, an ancient melody that my father sang to me and to his God:
"On New Year's Day you shall be inscribed and on the fasting Day of Atonement you shall be sealed."
Merkava Sh'chora - Black Carriage
Two horses, black as night, tied to a black carriage, riding in the wind.
The driver, wearing a high hat, waved his whip as a seasoned orchestral conductor.
Father and I in the back were listening to the horses galloping,
while watching their tails moving from side to side,
devoting ourselves to that moment, a fraction of eternity.
The carriage circled the city seven times, but the walls did not come tumbling down. On the eighth time I fell asleep.
When I woke, the horses had disappeared,
the driver evaporated and the carriage was gone.
"Father, what happened?" I asked, but he did not reply.
Over sixty years now, I have been dreaming that I am riding everywhere in a black carriage.
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