Mayn Shtetl Ungen
Mayn Shtetl Ungen – Barkan, H; Filadelfiye : Dzsh. L. Gros drukeray (Mid-City Press, Inc.)
–1959. Yiddish poem by Chaim/Haim (Hershel) Barkan about life in Ungen
From author’s son, Archie (Hersh) Barkan:
"My father’s poem, Mayn Shtetl Ungen was published in 1959. You know, it caused quite a stir at the time. His intro is so incredible – it’s the best thing he ever wrote.
David Grossman, (famous Israeli author), LOVED this book. He thought it was a classic.”
English translation dictated by the author’s son, Archie Barkan, Woodland Hills, CA.
Dedication: To those who were destroyed by the hands of villains in 1941.
Section Headings:
Part I: Formation of the town – A Stretch of Land; In the Yard of the Landowner; The Meeting of Some Members of the Town; Jews are Building;
The Hammer and the Saw and the Iron and the Stone; The Marketplace; Jews Speaking in the Holy House; The Town Grows; Teachers; Making a Living; The Heritage;
Charity; A Learned Man comes to Town
Part II: The New Time; Youth; Summer; Two Generations; Jews; A Rabbi; The River; New Teachers; The Hebrew School; Three Shuls; Holidays; Jewish Heroism/Strength;
Revolution; Epilogue--Destruction/Death/Annihilation; Acknowledgements.
Introduction:
Ungen
My dear little town,
Ungen in Bessarabia --You were destroyed, my town
Destroyed by the Nazi world villains
I carry you in my heart like a golden treasure
With your dreams and your ideals
With your weekday noises and arguments
With the charm of your well-kept homes and well-dressed Jewish daughters
With your noisy back yards and your deep mud
With your gentleness and your learnedness
With your ignoramuses and your stupid people
With your holidays and your mid-weeks
With your deep humanity and broad generosity
With your miserliness and stinginess
My little town with all kinds of wonderful characteristics and stupidity
With your good facets and your faults, but with charm everywhere in everything- You are rooted in my heart forever
On your earth, where I was born and spent my childhood, my young years and my mid years
My hand is shaking as I take my pen in hand, as I put a gravestone up over you
I’m standing at an open window
And I look out with my wide open eyes
And it seems to me like I’m young again
And I see you as you looked to me a couple of decades ago, before I left you