International Holocaust Remembrance Day -
The Ballad of Mauthausen is an historical composition by Mikis Theodorakis (originally recorded 1966 by Maria Farandouri including, four celebrated poems by the Greek poet and playwright Iakovos Kambanellis, drawn from his "Tριλογία για Μαουτχάουζεν" (Mauthausen Trilogy), and other six poems by Nikos Gatsos, Gerasimos Stavrou, Dimitris Christoudoulou and Tasos Livaditis, already recorded 1964 in the so-called "Farandouri Cycle".
The Ballad of Mauthausen includes, with no fear of exaggeration, not only some among the most famous and touching songs in the Greek language, but also among those dedicated to the extermination camps in any language. This album, indissolubly associated with Maria Farandouri's figure and voice, is a most important project of our website, now totally reshaped and restructured after years during which its songs have been scattered among various authors. One thing cannot change, however: the dedication I made to my grandfather, Bruno Venturi (1898-1978), who was a prisoner in and a survivor of Mauthausen, the "Customs House".
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How lovely is my love
in her everyday dress
with a little comb in her hair.
No-one knew how lovely she was.
Girls of Auschwitz,
girls of Dachau,
did you see my love?
We saw her on a long journey;
she wasn't wearing her every day dress
or the little comb in her hair.
How lovely is my love
caressed by her mother,
and her brother's kisses.
Nobody knew how lovely she was.
Girls of Mauthausen
girls of Belsen
did you see my love?
We saw her in the frozen square
with a number on her white hand
with a yellow star on her heart.
How lovely is my love
caressed by her mother,
and her brother's kisses.
Nobody knew how lovely she was.
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Tadeusz Różewicz - GËRSHET
Pasi të gjithë ngarkesës së grave
ia rruan kokat
katër të ngarkuar me fshesa degë mështeknash
pastrojnë
dhe mbledhin tok flokët
Pas xhamave të pastër
dergjen flokët e kufomave
të mbytur në dhomat e gazit
në këtë floknajë
plot gjilpëra me kokë dhe krehra
Floku nuk goditet përmes dritës
as nuk lëviz dot prej puhisë
s'mund ta prekë ndonjë dorë
as shiu apo buzët
Brenda gjokseve të mëdha
retë e flokëve të thatë
të atyre që u mbytën
qëndron një gërshet i venitur
me një fjongo
tërhequr mbase dikur në shkollë
nga djemtë çapkënë
Muzeu – Oshvjençim, 1948
Përktheu: Ben Andoni
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