[Page 227]

Much more than all the small villages in the entire area They spoke about the small village of Radoviche[2]) with love And this love was spread by the old Malka[3]). Even gentiles crossed themselves and murmured: “A pity,” When Malka closed her good eyes for eternity. Peasants with their scythes and [female] peasants knitting Talked among themselves for a long time with regret Whoever spoke, among the Jewish dorfsgeyer [village peddlers], There is no end to their sadness even today. Malka is not here and who can take Malka's place? And the great landowner of the small village of Radoviche Who because of the rhyme I call Mister Liadoviche – This landowner, like all landowners of his class, Ran his “city” from somewhere in a distant land; The small village here he left in Bunem's hands. And here, Reb Bunem was known everywhere As the Jew with the long, angry eyebrows, Who could not even shame a fly. A Jew, simple, quiet. Reb Bunen, Malka's husband [It was only he] who contended with the Ivans and Mechalkes.

[Page 228]

And Radoviche itself – a small village in Volyn, Like all small villages, white in winter and green in summer. A church that appears higher than all of the cottages. White peasant cottages with straw roofs, Still higher than the large house of Reb Bunem, Still higher than the poles near the wells, Where peasants with pails come to draw water For themselves, for their horses, for cows and for lambs, Gardens and orchards and an old, grey cross That is crumbling, one might as well go ahead and peel it. Reb Bunem in the fields with the peasants near the haystacks And Malka at the threshold of the house looks out At a visitor – a Jew, a gentile – what is the difference? The house has doors as with our father Abraham And she? If God had ordained and she has to live She needs to crown God's name here With what she can, with whatever she possesses in her house. Her Bunen is still very busy day and night in the field. But thank God, he brings and she has something to give [to people]. Let us hope that her life will not be any worse. Not in vain were visitors were drawn to her threshold. The quiet one, the old arendar [lessee], Reb Bunem Meddled very little in his house. Why? The “busybody” always interfered At the oven, at the pot of warm soup. And a person who has just arrived with a groan Was heard by Malka immediately. And whatever God had lavished in the pot Was immediately in bowls for the guests And Malka asked: Perhaps a little more? Welcoming a guest was the main thing for her. What more did she need? Even for the inebriated, The old, homeless and barefoot Mechalke The old, good Malka always had

[Page 228]

A place [for him] to sleep near the oven. “Probably, that is what was wanted from above, That Mechalke should be a gentile, an inebriated one,” Malka would always say And, at the same time, would raise her hands, as if giving a blessing “Alas, who are we to judge a person!” And now she is not here – so let this story About her remain as the story of the goat, the white one, About whom we so loved to sing and hear. Oy, perhaps people will reflect and ponder And become better, more loving to one another. This life is short and passes quickly, The end is dust, even for the most beautiful rose. I stand now and look through my window in thought. The large city suffocates during the clear day, But there are no Malkas here at the threshold.

Footnotes Reprinted from Z. Weinper's book, Geklibene Lider [Collected Poems]. Return Radoviche – a village on the road between Trusk and Kovel. Return Malka the Radovicher's grandchild, Rayle Baczkowska lives in Argentina now and a second grandchild, Leibl Perel, is now in Mexico. Return

  Kovel, Ukraine     Yizkor Book Project     JewishGen Home Page

Copyright © 1999-2024 by JewishGen, Inc.
Updated 26 Feb 2017 by LA