Номер объектаM2000/031:001
НазваниеDas Lied von Theresienstadt
ОписаниеPoem titled Das Lied von Theresienstadt ('Song of Theresienstadt'), by Walter Lindenbaum. Typewritten in German. The original poem was written in Terezin in Czech (presumably in 1943 or 1944). The poem was well known in Terezin, as Lindenbaum did public cabaret performances and poetry readings.
Walter Lindenbaum, born 1907 in Vienna, murdered February 1945 in the Ohrdruf forced labour camp, was an Austrian journalist and author of the Jewish faith . As a Social Democrat and because of his resistance to National Socialism as a writer, he and his family were arrested by the National Socialists. On 1 April 1943, the Lindenbaum family was deported to the Theresienstadt concentration camp. Walter presented texts in the cabarets performed there to distract fellow prisoners; he also documented the prevailing living conditions in poems, such as ‘The Song of Theresienstadt. He was deported to Auschwitz on 28 September 1944. His wife Rachel and daughter Ruth were deported on 6 October, and gassed soon after arrival. Walter was later transferred to Buchenwald and then to the Ohrdruf satellite camp
‘Das Lied von Theresienstadt’ was donated to the Sydney Jewish Museum by Heinz Beurer, together with other original documents such as Heinz’s ration coupons issued by the Jewish Self Government in Theresienstadt, his Kennkarte (identity document), Terezin currency and work cards.
Heinz Beurer was born in Stuttgart, Germany on 19 April 1927. He was deported to Theresienstadt on 18 February 1945, aged 17 (almost 18) – one of the final deportations to Terezin. At the time he was a student in high school. His 1941 Kennkarte (ID card) was stamped with a ‘J’ for Jew, and had a middle name ‘Israel’ inserted; it is also stamped ‘Evakuiert’ (evacuated/deported). Initially he was employed on a special deployment working on a construction site in Theresienstadt, and then as a member of the Health Department as a stretcher bearer (carrying sick or dead bodies). He received additional rations for the month of May 1945 for ‘Schwerarbeiter’ (heavy duty work) as he was performing the role of Krankentrager (stretcher bearer), to which he was appointed on 3 May 1945, just days before liberation.
After the war, Heinz went back to Germany and lived in Ditzingen, Stuttgart. On a visit to Sydney in 1999, he met one of the Sydney Jewish Museum survivors, Lotte, and later posted his memorabilia to her at the Museum. Nothing is known about him other than what can be gleaned from his documents.
Song of Theresienstadt (translated by David Benedikt, 2007)
We are 40,000 Jews here
there were more man of us in this place,
the ones we have not loaded to Poland
we carried out in coffins.
And in the courtyards of the barracks
we stand in the evenings longingly
looking to the eternal stars
up top and feel compulsively
that freedom asides in the stars
and not in places like barracks.
At night we whisper in our dreams
how much longer, how much longer?
Take note of it brother, comrade
the song of Theresienstadt.
We fight for bare life.
Every day brings new misery.
Pride you are not allowed to know here
you beg for a slice of bread.
Earlier you were not allowed to
fetch soup in a tin plate and
slurp it up without a spoon.
Here the slogan says: eat or perish.
Exposed does misery show itself
and every creature is blinded,
failing, in misery and stealing,
self-preservation shows itself.
Take note of it brother comrade
the song of Theresienstadt.
Where we live there is no brightness
only hope throws light ahead
these were horse stables,
now 60 people sleep in them.
Hollow cheeked and thin
you don't put on weight from longing
so you lie down where you camp
and dream of a bed in Kavalott [this word doesn’t make sense].
The pain which the courageous bear
when by day the harsh sun shines
has been tearing our hearts to sheds
during nights of solitary crying.
The town of children and aged,
the first ones are our germ of hope
the second ones silently pass away
returning to their dead fathers.
Death, the black rider, takes
a child – he's got no preferences -
which among all the mothers
causes a long-extended cry of pain
and men who usually are less affected
who still display a hardened face
fell in their hearts a mighty shudder
when hearing the mother cry for the child.
So we live, kept in the Ghetto
common fate holding on to us,
we Jews here, we forty thousand,
the left-overs of the millions,
we have grief, sorrow, worries
as well as a lot of pain.
We live here from one day to the next
one day at a time but still alive.
Here we could be robbed of everything,
tormented and harassed without end.
And yet we kept the belief going
that at some time things will change.
And it will one day become different
and if we get out of here and
become a free people on this earth,
then I shall sing my song at home.
If my fate should be different
and I do not live to see my freedom
and also get buried here,
then my poem will carry on living.
When the years then go by for you
full of care free good luck
you may then one day reflect
on the time in the past,
then sing my brother, comrade
my little song of Theresienstadt.
Walter Lindenbaum, born 1907 in Vienna, murdered February 1945 in the Ohrdruf forced labour camp, was an Austrian journalist and author of the Jewish faith . As a Social Democrat and because of his resistance to National Socialism as a writer, he and his family were arrested by the National Socialists. On 1 April 1943, the Lindenbaum family was deported to the Theresienstadt concentration camp. Walter presented texts in the cabarets performed there to distract fellow prisoners; he also documented the prevailing living conditions in poems, such as ‘The Song of Theresienstadt. He was deported to Auschwitz on 28 September 1944. His wife Rachel and daughter Ruth were deported on 6 October, and gassed soon after arrival. Walter was later transferred to Buchenwald and then to the Ohrdruf satellite camp
‘Das Lied von Theresienstadt’ was donated to the Sydney Jewish Museum by Heinz Beurer, together with other original documents such as Heinz’s ration coupons issued by the Jewish Self Government in Theresienstadt, his Kennkarte (identity document), Terezin currency and work cards.
Heinz Beurer was born in Stuttgart, Germany on 19 April 1927. He was deported to Theresienstadt on 18 February 1945, aged 17 (almost 18) – one of the final deportations to Terezin. At the time he was a student in high school. His 1941 Kennkarte (ID card) was stamped with a ‘J’ for Jew, and had a middle name ‘Israel’ inserted; it is also stamped ‘Evakuiert’ (evacuated/deported). Initially he was employed on a special deployment working on a construction site in Theresienstadt, and then as a member of the Health Department as a stretcher bearer (carrying sick or dead bodies). He received additional rations for the month of May 1945 for ‘Schwerarbeiter’ (heavy duty work) as he was performing the role of Krankentrager (stretcher bearer), to which he was appointed on 3 May 1945, just days before liberation.
After the war, Heinz went back to Germany and lived in Ditzingen, Stuttgart. On a visit to Sydney in 1999, he met one of the Sydney Jewish Museum survivors, Lotte, and later posted his memorabilia to her at the Museum. Nothing is known about him other than what can be gleaned from his documents.
Song of Theresienstadt (translated by David Benedikt, 2007)
We are 40,000 Jews here
there were more man of us in this place,
the ones we have not loaded to Poland
we carried out in coffins.
And in the courtyards of the barracks
we stand in the evenings longingly
looking to the eternal stars
up top and feel compulsively
that freedom asides in the stars
and not in places like barracks.
At night we whisper in our dreams
how much longer, how much longer?
Take note of it brother, comrade
the song of Theresienstadt.
We fight for bare life.
Every day brings new misery.
Pride you are not allowed to know here
you beg for a slice of bread.
Earlier you were not allowed to
fetch soup in a tin plate and
slurp it up without a spoon.
Here the slogan says: eat or perish.
Exposed does misery show itself
and every creature is blinded,
failing, in misery and stealing,
self-preservation shows itself.
Take note of it brother comrade
the song of Theresienstadt.
Where we live there is no brightness
only hope throws light ahead
these were horse stables,
now 60 people sleep in them.
Hollow cheeked and thin
you don't put on weight from longing
so you lie down where you camp
and dream of a bed in Kavalott [this word doesn’t make sense].
The pain which the courageous bear
when by day the harsh sun shines
has been tearing our hearts to sheds
during nights of solitary crying.
The town of children and aged,
the first ones are our germ of hope
the second ones silently pass away
returning to their dead fathers.
Death, the black rider, takes
a child – he's got no preferences -
which among all the mothers
causes a long-extended cry of pain
and men who usually are less affected
who still display a hardened face
fell in their hearts a mighty shudder
when hearing the mother cry for the child.
So we live, kept in the Ghetto
common fate holding on to us,
we Jews here, we forty thousand,
the left-overs of the millions,
we have grief, sorrow, worries
as well as a lot of pain.
We live here from one day to the next
one day at a time but still alive.
Here we could be robbed of everything,
tormented and harassed without end.
And yet we kept the belief going
that at some time things will change.
And it will one day become different
and if we get out of here and
become a free people on this earth,
then I shall sing my song at home.
If my fate should be different
and I do not live to see my freedom
and also get buried here,
then my poem will carry on living.
When the years then go by for you
full of care free good luck
you may then one day reflect
on the time in the past,
then sing my brother, comrade
my little song of Theresienstadt.
Место изготовленияTerezin, Czech Republic
Дата circa 1944
Период созданияWorld War II (1939-1945)
Темаconcentration camps, poems, music
Наименованиеpoems
Материалpaper
Техникаtypewritten
Размерность
- width: 208.00 mm
height: 295.00 mm
Язык
- German Song of Theresienstadt
We are 40,000 Jews here
there were more man of us in this place,
the ones we have not loaded to Poland
we carried out in coffins.
And in the courtyards of the barracks
we stand in the evenings longingly
looking to the eternal stars
up top and feel compulsively
that freedom asides in the stars
and not in places like barracks.
At night we whisper in our dreams
how much longer, how much longer?
Take note of it brother, comrade
the song of Theresienstadt.
We fight for bare life.
Every day brings new misery.
Pride you are not allowed to know here
you beg for a slice of bread.
Earlier you were not allowed to
fetch soup in a tin plate and
slurp it up without a spoon.
Here the slogan says: eat or perish.
Exposed does misery show itself
and every creature is blinded,
failing, in misery and stealing,
self-preservation shows itself.
Take note of it brother comrade
the song of Theresienstadt.
Where we live there is no brightness
only hope throws light ahead
these were horse stables,
now 60 people sleep in them.
Hollow cheeked and thin
you don't put on weight from longing
so you lie down where you camp
and dream of a bed in Kavalott [this word doesn’t make sense].
The pain which the courageous bear
when by day the harsh sun shines
has been tearing our hearts to sheds
during nights of solitary crying.
The town of children and aged,
the first ones are our germ of hope
the second ones silently pass away
returning to their dead fathers.
Death, the black rider, takes
a child – he's got no preferences -
which among all the mothers
causes a long-extended cry of pain
and men who usually are less affected
who still display a hardened face
fell in their hearts a mighty shudder
when hearing the mother cry for the child.
So we live, kept in the Ghetto
common fate holding on to us,
we Jews here, we forty thousand,
the left-overs of the millions,
we have grief, sorrow, worries
as well as a lot of pain.
We live here from one day to the next
one day at a time but still alive.
Here we could be robbed of everything,
tormented and harassed without end.
And yet we kept the belief going
that at some time things will change.
And it will one day become different
and if we get out of here and
become a free people on this earth,
then I shall sing my song at home.
If my fate should be different
and I do not live to see my freedom
and also get buried here,
then my poem will carry on living.
When the years then go by for you
full of care free good luck
you may then one day reflect
on the time in the past,
then sing my brother, comrade
my little song of Theresienstadt.
Кредитная линияSydney Jewish Museum Collection, Donated by Heinz Beurer