In one of the earliest posts that I wrote in this blog, I noted a very significant event in my life. In 1969, when I met my then-boyfriend now-husband, his first present to me was a book of Leonard Cohen poetry. This was a wise gift from my young boyfriend; it made him appear to be insightful, sensitive and literary-minded.
I also wrote I still loved Cohen’s music passionately. And we saw the Canadian each time he performed in Melbourne, remembering ALL the lyrics of his old songs. That was true for the thousands of people who filled Melbourne’s Rod Laver Stadium to the rafters back in 2009, mostly people over 55. For the concert that night, Hallelujah was as beautiful as ever.
Later I saw Hallelujah again, this time on-line by a different singer in a different country and in a different language.
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I had never heard of Daniel Kahn but I easily found this summary. He (b1978) was born in Detroit, studying theatre and poetry at Michigan Uni. In terms of Jewish education, engaging with Kahn’s cultural heritage, Yiddish, literature, folk, culture, music, theatre, socialism, immigration issues, resilience, liberation and revolution, were all things that he had to find on his own. After living in New Orleans and New York, he moved to Berlin in 2005 and founded The Painted Bird, touring the world and winning awards with their 5 albums. He's a theatre director, actor, singer, songwriter and accordionist who combines English, Yiddish, German and Russian in a radical combination of Eastern European Klezmer, lyrical folk ballads, dark cabaret and political punk.
In 2016 Kahn translated Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah into Yiddish. In a interview that year Kahn said Hallelujah was essentially a Yiddish song Leonard Cohen wrote in English, by which he meant it was Jewish. It’s like the Song of Solomon, the double working of devotion to God and devotion to a lover, the juxtaposition of eroticism and spirituality. In his opinion these were all very Jewish themes, so to do it in Yiddish made sense. Hallelujah, a song that had nothing to do with politics, was a kind of solace for so many wounded people and he was honoured that people understood that through his performance.
Kahan had been to four Leonard Cohen concerts. He’d been a fan and student of his since his teens. He was in his very late 30s in the interview and wouldn’t have become a songwriter without Cohen.
My own Yiddish was adequate as a child. I understood everything about food, clothes, cleaning my bedroom, taking care of the puppies and having a ironed school uniform each morning, but I learned nothing about politics, classical literature, classical music, economics or sex. So thank you to a blogger for the translation.
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Kahn must have been very skilled at taking Yiddish songs from the past and getting them to sound like modern folk music. Yet he remained loyal to his source material. Ilana Sichel was right - this Yiddish version of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah moved me to tears; Kahn’s music was even more haunting than the original. In Yiddish, it cannot help but feel like a sort of musical kaddish/lament to a lost culture. But more importantly for me, it was an honour to my late parents and grandparents, and to Cohen himself.
I also wrote I still loved Cohen’s music passionately. And we saw the Canadian each time he performed in Melbourne, remembering ALL the lyrics of his old songs. That was true for the thousands of people who filled Melbourne’s Rod Laver Stadium to the rafters back in 2009, mostly people over 55. For the concert that night, Hallelujah was as beautiful as ever.
Later I saw Hallelujah again, this time on-line by a different singer in a different country and in a different language.
deutschlandfunkkultur
In 2016 Kahn translated Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah into Yiddish. In a interview that year Kahn said Hallelujah was essentially a Yiddish song Leonard Cohen wrote in English, by which he meant it was Jewish. It’s like the Song of Solomon, the double working of devotion to God and devotion to a lover, the juxtaposition of eroticism and spirituality. In his opinion these were all very Jewish themes, so to do it in Yiddish made sense. Hallelujah, a song that had nothing to do with politics, was a kind of solace for so many wounded people and he was honoured that people understood that through his performance.
Kahan had been to four Leonard Cohen concerts. He’d been a fan and student of his since his teens. He was in his very late 30s in the interview and wouldn’t have become a songwriter without Cohen.
My own Yiddish was adequate as a child. I understood everything about food, clothes, cleaning my bedroom, taking care of the puppies and having a ironed school uniform each morning, but I learned nothing about politics, classical literature, classical music, economics or sex. So thank you to a blogger for the translation.
There was a secret tune
That David played for God,
But for you it would never be such salvation.
One sings it like this: a Fa, a Sol,
A prayer raises a voice,
The confused king weaves a hallelujah...
Your faith has grown weak,
Bathsheba bathes herself on the roof,
Her charm and the moon are your remedy.
She takes your body, takes your head,
She cuts a braid from your hair,
And pulls down from your mouth a hallelujah...
Oh dear, I know your style,
I've slept on your floor,
I've never lived with such a treasure of a woman.
I see your castle, see your flag.
A heart is no King's throne.
It's a cold and a ruined hallelujah...
Oh, tell me again, like before,
What's happening down there in your lap.
Why must you be ashamed, like a virgin?
Just remember how I dwelled in you,
How the holy feminine spirit glows in our blood,
And every breath utters a hallelujah...
You call me an apostate,
I blaspheme with the Holy Name.
No matter, I'm not expecting the messianic age.
But it burns hot in every letter,
From alef-beys all the way to the end,
The holy and ruined hallelujah...
And that's all, it's not a lot,
In the meantime, I'll do what I do.
I come here like a mensch, not a scoundrel.
Though all is lost anyway,
I will praise Adonai,
And cry To Life: Hallelujah...
That David played for God,
But for you it would never be such salvation.
One sings it like this: a Fa, a Sol,
A prayer raises a voice,
The confused king weaves a hallelujah...
Your faith has grown weak,
Bathsheba bathes herself on the roof,
Her charm and the moon are your remedy.
She takes your body, takes your head,
She cuts a braid from your hair,
And pulls down from your mouth a hallelujah...
Oh dear, I know your style,
I've slept on your floor,
I've never lived with such a treasure of a woman.
I see your castle, see your flag.
A heart is no King's throne.
It's a cold and a ruined hallelujah...
Oh, tell me again, like before,
What's happening down there in your lap.
Why must you be ashamed, like a virgin?
Just remember how I dwelled in you,
How the holy feminine spirit glows in our blood,
And every breath utters a hallelujah...
You call me an apostate,
I blaspheme with the Holy Name.
No matter, I'm not expecting the messianic age.
But it burns hot in every letter,
From alef-beys all the way to the end,
The holy and ruined hallelujah...
And that's all, it's not a lot,
In the meantime, I'll do what I do.
I come here like a mensch, not a scoundrel.
Though all is lost anyway,
I will praise Adonai,
And cry To Life: Hallelujah...
Khan with accordian and The Painted Bird
The Cedar
Kahn must have been very skilled at taking Yiddish songs from the past and getting them to sound like modern folk music. Yet he remained loyal to his source material. Ilana Sichel was right - this Yiddish version of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah moved me to tears; Kahn’s music was even more haunting than the original. In Yiddish, it cannot help but feel like a sort of musical kaddish/lament to a lost culture. But more importantly for me, it was an honour to my late parents and grandparents, and to Cohen himself.