The Joy of Motherhood, Bogurodzica, and Polish Christmas Carols (V. 16, No. 1)

Lorenzo Monaco  (circa 1370–circa 1425), The Nativity, circa 1406–10, Tempera on wood, gold ground, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Robert Lehman Collection, 1975.1.66

St. Francis of Assisi invented the Nativity scene for Christmas, showing the poverty and simplicity of the parents of the Divine Baby, and the humble stable where the Divine birth too place. These nativity scenes are extremely popular in Poland, with their focus on the mother and baby in the center. For non-Christians, agnostics, and other spiritual or humanist fols, Christmas is a unique festivity of motherhood, mothers, babies, birth, and the origins of all human beings in their mothers' wombs. This is extremely important and a major contribution of Christianity to the rise of respect for women around the world. Just compare these images of Mother and Child with representations of Divine figures around the world....

For Christians and Catholics in particular, this is a celebration of the birth of their Savior, the Redeemer, Christ the Son of God. Catholics and Orthodox believers focus on the woman in the center, Theotokos, Bogurodzica, Mother of God. Countess icons depict the Nativity, countess sculptures, paintings and frescos portray the Divine Mother and her Divine Child, the favorite of so many gothic, renaissance and baroque painters in the West, and all these anonymous "writers" of icons in the east - that developed a series of types of representations, depending on the positions of the Mother and Child, their gestures and their hidden and reveled meanings. 

The Black Madonna, Our lady of the Bright Mount icon copied at the Chiesa dei Santi Simone e Giuda (Tabiago, Nibionno) -  alla Cappella della Madonna, photo by Kaitu. Wikimedia Commons

Bogurodzica, the Mother of God, is the Queen of Poland - this title of hers has never been officially rescinded.  The most beloved Polish anthem, sung for centuries, is dedicated to her. It functioned as a batte hymn, most notably during the Battle of Grunwald in 1410 when the Teutonic nights were defeated by combined Polish and lituanian forces. It was used for the coronation of Polish kings and its most recent appearance was at the Polish Seym, sung by all representatives together.  

I found its strange arrangement - with only the first stanza of text used by the musician, presenting the melody alone at first and adding bagpipes and various other medieval and folk instruments. At the same time, the imagery of the Battle of Grunwald by Jan Matejko, a 19th century patriotic behemoth, designed to stimulate Polish resistance against their German, Austrian, and Russian rulers during the 123 years of partitions. The musician Farya Faraji, wrote "Bogurodzica is a Polish, medieval Catholic hymn composed somewhere between the 10th and 13th centuries, with its likely author being Saint Adalbert of Prague. Though originally a liturgical hymn, it soon evolved into a battle chant used by Polish warriors, and was chanted on the 15th of July 1410 during the Battle of Grunwald." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KLilgcnGKpg

In a different version, the image of mother holding her baby is accompanied by a male chorus singing a polyphonic arrangement of the anthem https://youtu.be/foCr1GEKM5A?si=VrlFRNTrQWgD3hGY

Bogurodzica                          Mother of God

Bogurodzica, Dziewica Bogiem sławiena Maryja Twego syna, Gospodzina, Matko zwolena Maryja Zyszczy nam spuści nam. Kyrieleison.   Twego dziela Krzciciela, bożycze, Usłysz głosy, napełni myśli człowiecze. Słysz modlitwe, jąż nosimy, Oddać raczy, jegoż prosimy: A na świecie zbożny pobyt, Po żywocie rajski przebyt. Kyrieleison.

Mother of God, Virgin God-famed Mary! Ask Thy Son, our Lord, God-named Mary, Present to us, bestow on us! Kyrie eleison!   For your work, the Christ, God, Hear the voices,  fill human thoughts, Hear the prayer that we carry, We ask him to give us back: In the world a godly dwelling, After life, ascension to paradise Kyrie eleison!

This is a startling, majestic song, made even more serious by its slow-tempo, low-voiced male chorus... Here she is "Theotoos" "Bogurodzica" - But the Motherhood of Mary is celebrated in Nativity scenes and carols - lullabies that focus on the affection of the Divine Mother and Divine Child, as in the 14th century icon from Russia, the Icon of the Virgin Mary of the Don from the Holy Trinity-St. Sergius Lavra.

There is a tenderness in this image of the baby reaching up to mom, and the inclined head of the Mother focuses solely on the baby... This human gentleness permeates the most favorite Polish carols. Gdy Sliczna Panna, Jezus Malusienki, Oj Maluski, Maluski, and beloved by Chopin - lulajze Jezuniu.

This December, I attended two Christmas caroling parties, one of Modjeska Club that I organized myself, on December 14, 2024, and another the next day, at the Theater Jaskolka in Vista, the home of Marek and Halina Brzeszcz. At the Club's party, the caroling was led by Olivia Kierdal from the piano, we sang carols for an hour, and did not fail to include the slow, delicate and lovely lullabies to baby Jesus, shivering from cold in the manger.... The "Gorale" style carol has beautiful words

Oj, Maluśki, Maluśki 1. Oj, maluśki, maluśki, maluśki, kieby rękawicka Albó li tyz jakóby, jakóby kawałecek śmycka. Ref. Śpiewajmy i grajmy Mu, Dzieciątku małemu.   2. Cy nie lepiej by Tóbie, by Tóbie śiedziec byłó w niebie Wśak Twó j Tatuś kóchany,kóchany nie wyganiał Ciebie. Ref. Śpiewajmy i grajmy Mu, Dzieciątku małemu.   3. Tam wciórnaśka wygóda, wygóda, a tu bieda wśędzie, Ta Ci teraz dókuca, dókuca, ta i pótem będzie. Ref. Śpiewajmy i grajmy Mu, Dzieciątku małemu.

Oh, the little one, little one  1.Oh, the little one, little one, little one, as tiny as a  glove Or maybe similar, similar to  A piece of a twig.  Ref. Let's sing and play to Him,  Little Child.    2. Wouldn't you be better off If you stayed in heaven After all, Your beloved Daddy did not chase you away. Ref. Let's sing and play to Him, Little Child.   3. There - a great comfort, great comfort and here poverty is everywhere, It now bothers you, bothers you And it will be the same later.  Ref. Let's sing and play to Him, Little Child.

Eugeniusz Klimakin wrote on the Polish Culture portal about the Oj maluśki, maluśki caro describing it as a 18th century "pastorae" - "This pastoral appears for the first time in the 18th-century manuscripts of the Kraków Franciscan nuns, and currently the most frequently performed text comes from Kolędy, czyli zbiór pieśni na Boże Narodzenie dla wygody i nabożeństwa Ich Mość P.P. Franciszkanek klasztoru św. Jędrzeja (Christmas Carols, or a Collection of Christmas Songs for the Comfort and Devotion of the Gentle Franciscan Sisters of St. Andrew’s Convent), dated 1808."

https://culture.pl/en/article/the-most-popular-polish-christmas-carols

The most famous Polish carol that was the favorite of  Chopin, - as Eugeniusz Klimakin wrote - "At the age of 21, the brilliant composer had to leave Poland forever. He left in November, so he was travelling on Christmas Eve – on 24 December 1830, while in Vienna, he went to St. Stephen’s Cathedral. According to experts on his life and work, he began to recall Christmas in his native Żelazowa Wola and this holiday’s traditions and carols that were close to his heart. At that time, a preliminary version of the Scherzo in B-flat Minor, op. 20, was created, which he completed after arriving in Paris. He used the melody line of his favourite carol, ‘Lulajże, Jezuniu’."

Krzysztof Książek in Chopin's Scherzo B minor Op. 20 https://youtu.be/wHQkramSPUs?si=dEtjtwt_SVNe6iG8

1. Lulajże, Jezuniu, moja perełko, Lulaj, ulubione me pieścidełko. Ref. Lulajże, Jezuniu, lulajże, lulaj!  A ty Gó, Matulu, w płaczu utulaj.   2. Żamknijze znuzóne płaczem powieczki, Utulże zemdlone łkaniem uśteczki. Ref. Lulajże, Jezuniu, lulajże, lulaj!  A ty Go, Matulu, w płaczu utulaj.   3. Lulajże, piękniuchny naśz Aniółeczku, Lulajże, wdzięczniuchny świata Kwiateczku. Ref. Lulajże, Jezuniu, lulajże, lulaj!  A ty Go, Matulu, w płaczu utulaj.

1.Lulajże, Jesus, my pearl, Lulaj, my favorite delight. Ref. Lulajże, Jesus, lulajże, lulaj! And you, Mommy, comfort him in crying.   2.Close your eyelids, weary of crying Close your lips, fainting with sobs. Ref. Lulajże, Jesus, lulajże, lulaj! And you, Mother, hug Him in tears.    3. Lulajże, our beautiful Angel,  Lulajże, graceful  Flower of the world  Ref. Lulajże, Jesus, lulajże, lulaj! And you, Mommy, comfort him in crying.

Another sweet "Nativity" song is about the poor and shoddy stable where the Divine baby was born. It is also delicate and sweet, just like a lullaby.... and, although not perfect it was sung with sincerity by members of the Modjeska Club in 2022.  Its text focusing on the Divine nature of the newborn baby, returns to theological concerns of other carols, serving, in their time, as religious lessons. 

Mizerna, cicha, stajenka licha, Pełna niebieskiej chwały. Oto leżący, przed nami śpiący W promieniach Jezus mały.   Nad nim anieli w locie stanęli I pochyleni klęczą Z włosy złotymi, z skrzydły białymi Pod malowaną tęczą.   I oto mnodzy ludzie ubodzy, Radzi oglądać Pana, Pełni natchnienia, pełni zdziwienia Upadli na kolana.   Wielkie zdziwienie, wszelkie stworzenie, Cały świat orzeźwiony: Mądrość mądrości, światłość światłości, Bóg-człowiek tu wcielony.   Długo wzdychali, długo czekali, Aż niebo rozgorzało, Piekło zawarte, niebo otwarte, Słowo się Ciałem stało.

A miserable, quiet, poor little manger, Full of heavenly glory. Behold, lying, sleeping before us In the rays of light, little Jesus.   Above him angels in flight stood And bowed, kneeling down With golden hair, with white wings Under a painted rainbow.   And behold, many poor people, Rejoicing to see the Lord, Full of inspiration, greatly astonished They fell to their knees.   Great astonishment, as all creation, And The whole world is  refreshed: Wisdom of wisdom, light of light, God-man is incarnate here.   They sighed and waited For long, until heaven flared up, Hell was closed, heaven was opened, The Word became Flesh.

Since the main theme of Christmas is JOY about the birth of a baby, I should end this adventure with Polish carols with a more lively song about shepherds rushing to the manger to praise the miracle of life. Not surprisingly, most Christians are pro-lifers... 

Przybieżeli do Betlejem  1. Przybiezeli do Betlejem pasterze, Grając skocznie Dzieciąteczku na lirze. Ref. Chwała na wysokości, Chwała na wysokości, a pokój na ziemi.   2. Oddawali swe ukłony w pokorze Tobie, z serca ochotnego, o Boze!  Ref. Chwała na wysokości,  Chwała na wysokości  a pokój na ziemi.   3. Anioł Panski sam ogłosił te dziwy, Których oni nie słyszeli, jak zywi.  Ref. Chwała na wysokości,  Chwała na wysokości, a pokój na ziemi.

They ran quickly to Bethlehem  1. The shepherds came to Bethlehem, Playing bouncy tunes for the Infant on the lyre. Ref. Glory in the highest, Glory in the highest, and peace on earth.   2. They bowed down in humility To You, with a willing heart, O God! Ref. Glory in the highest, Glory in the highest, and peace on earth.   3. The Lord’s  Angel  announced these wonders, Of which they had not heard as Long as they lived. Ref. Glory in the highest, Glory in the highest, and peace on earth.

Gothic Madonna at the National Museum in Cracow.

On Loss and Homecoming - Facsimile of a Visit to Warsaw, May 2024 (V. 15, No. 2)

Maja Trochimczyk on Piwna St. in the Old Town of Warsaw

In May 2024, after attending the  International Book Fair  at the Warsaw Palace of Culture and Sciences as the newest member of the Union of Polish Writers Abroad (since the spring of 2024) and before giving a paper at the 9th World Congress of Polish Studies organized by the Polish Institute of Arts and Sciences in America (an organization that I've belonged to since 1997), I found time to visit old friends and the neighborhoods of my youth.  

A House in Jelonki, May 2024

I was raised in a wooden house in a garden in "Osiedle Przyjazn" ("Friendship Estate") left over after the builders of the Soviet gift, the monumental Palace of Culture and Sciences left for USSR, and occupied by faculty and students of Warsaw Polytechnic University where my father worked.  My family lived there from 1956 to 1970 and the following poetic prose or lengthy narrative poem is dedicated to my childhood memories. The house is no longer there, it made way to widened street, but other houses remained and I visited a neighbor, noted Chopin scholar, Dr. Zofia Chechlinska of the National Institute of Fryderyk Chopin, editor of a monumental series of facsimile of Chopin's autographs. We chatted over a sweet "napoleonka" with cream, black tea, and fragrant, fresh strawberries - but not really about music. I only found out that the publication of the facsimile series goes very slowly due to financial constraints, two volumes per year. While many more critical commentaries are already done, they cannot be published yet due to insufficient funds and costly format  - hardcover in fancy boxes. Still, it is a monumental achievement deserving lots of praise. Congratulations! I bought some volumes of this series in the past, but I do not teach music history now, so I did not buy the rest. The annotations and critical commentaries are worth their weight in gold! 

Maja Trochimczyk with Prof. Zofia Chechlinska of NIFC, 

editor in chief of Chopin facsimile series.

The NIFC Website has the following information about this series:

 The Fryderyk Chopin Institute is the initiator, publisher and coordinator of the international project ‘Works by Chopin. Facsimile edition’, the aim of which is to publish all the available autographs of Fryderyk Chopin’s works, scattered around the world, in facsimile. The series has been edited since 2001, and from the beginning its Editor-in-Chief has been Professor Zofia Chechlińska. It is the first ever undertaking on such a large scale and the first attempt to publish the complete music autographs by Chopin.

The series was initiated to preserve and popularize Fryderyk Chopin’s heritage in Poland and around the world. Its most significant value is the most faithful replication of the manuscripts in print, making the original texts of Chopin’s compositions available for research and enabling us to get as close as possible to the composer’s intentions as well as to verify the knowledge about the sources. Thanks to the use of contemporary photographic and printing technology, it is possible to replicate the original sources in a more faithful way than ever before!

Each volume comprises two books: the facsimile and a scholarly commentary (in six languages: Polish, English, French, German, Spanish, and Japanese). Among the outstanding specialists who have prepared source commentaries are: Zofia Chechlińska, Jan Ekier, Jeffrey Kallberg, Mieczysław Tomaszewski, Jim Samson, Irena Poniatowska, Paweł Kamiński, Artur Szklener. The commentaries include the most recent information on the history of published manuscripts. The aesthetic design, hard covers and ergonomic slipcase further enhance the value of these unique editions.

The page features links to individual works and to the online NIFC store where the items may be purchased.   https://publikacje.nifc.pl/en/dziela-chopina/wydanie-faksymilowe. 

 

I still remember Prof. Chechlinska's piano ... from my childhood. I sometimes sat under it, playing with her daughter and listening to the music that filled my whole body with miraculous sounds. But I did not write about this experience in any poems. After the visit, I decided to walk along the narrow alleys of the neighborhood of my youth and see if things I remembered still remain... Below is my quasi-poetic account... Time plays tricks on all of us. No doubt. 

A VISIT TO JELONKI, MAY 2024

We śnie gaszę pożar

We śnie ogień płonie

I dream in Polish

I dream of fires

 

After walking through the non-existent city of my youth 

and returning to California, I wonder: do I belong

in my cozy ranch house in the rose garden,

or in Warsaw I left 30 years ago?

 

There was a wooden house painted peach with white trim and shutters.

There, I climbed a cherry tree to sit among green leaves

and taste the miraculous sweetness of the summer.

There, bright yellow daffodils bloomed in two circles –

I loved watching them sprout through rotten leaves

after the snow melted. I daily checked how many

poked their heads out of the ground, as curious

as I was. What was this new world like?

 

There, I stopped to smell the jasmine stretching through

the neighbor’s chain-linked fence. There, towering sunflowers

welcomed me back from vacations in the countryside.

They were so small when I left – and now? A proof of

the unstoppable flow of time. The summer’s over. How strange.

Time flows one way; it freezes, immobile, only in a loop of memory.

 

We śnie gaszę pożar

We śnie ogień płonie

I dream in Polish

I dream of fires

 

Where is the lilac blooming outside my six-paned window?

Where is the liquid charm of the nightingale song

mixed in with lilac scent that filled sleepless nights with delight?

Where is the weeping willow we used to climb by way of wooden fence?

Its trunk was too smooth, too tall for children’s feet and hands.

 

The beet and potato fields across the road

are now covered with tall apartment blocks. Cement, steel and glass.

The street was widened. Our house – demolished.

My childhood dreams paved over. My neighbors stayed 

in their comfy, wooden houses, with their tall cherry trees,

their thick lilac bushes, their six-paned windows…

My school is gone and so is its row of acacia trees.

It made space for yet another black-asphalt highway.

I retrace the steps I took daily, always late,

dreaming of a white Pegasus to take me to my class

in an instant, or I could have at the very least

an electric car suspended high up on the wires…

I walk along the curb I fell off so often

in my brand-new, white stockings, torn and blood-stained

as I ran back home crying. Was it a premonition of my loss?

Why is the curb so low today? Why is the alley so narrow?

 

We śnie szumia drzewa

We śnie księżyc wschodzi

I dream of evening breeze

I dream of moonlit streets

 

The locked-up library with three steps I used to sit on, reading,

is still the same.  I went there daily for my six books –

high with anticipation of the wonders to be found on their pages.

So disappointed when the librarian did not let me exchange

the book I just read while walking home: “Come back tomorrow.”

These books in brown paper covers overflowed with

the magic of color within – tales of a thousand and one nights,

of dragons, queens and kings, of gleaming treasures,

crystals, translucent waves of distant seas. Flights of fancy

always ending with happiness and love – serenity and bliss.

 

No fires and no darkness. No demons with bared fangs.

No S&M black latex clothing, with chains, weird cutout holes,

fishnet stockings, hideous platform shoes. No massive spiders,

horrid bugs, Satanist symbols, nor tattoos that took over

the stage of National Opera in a botched Magic Flute –

devoid of magic, robbed of charm, distorted and deprived

of beauty, yes – depraved. The world has surely changed

a lot since my youth. Where is the wonder of lilacs, cherries,

dried maple leaves, winter crickets, and spring nightingales?

 

The old library looks abandoned, with metal shutters,

peeling paint. The rickety house across the street seems ready

to fall apart any minute. It used to be our grocery store,

replaced by shiny metal and glass of Carrefours, Aldi’s,

and Biedronka’s.  The cracked-asphalt parking lot survived – 

I stop and my unforgotten joy floats in the air above my head. 

Ever cautious, I refused to ride the bike without training wheels.

Dad made a stick to hold my bike upright. He promised

not to let go! He did promise! I hated pain so much,

hated the bloodied stockings. One day, speeding, with breeze

in my hair, I saw him standing far away, smiling.

I really could ride the bike by myself! Victory! The first!

The breeze of freedom in my hair. My heart - aflutter.

That joy is still here, as perfect as that day.

 

The joy of sitting on the library’s steps, reading

is there also – a quieter contentment, discovering

new worlds in words, alone, in silence –

the thousand and one hours of books

and thousand and one nights of tales

that saved Sheherezade's life. Prophetic.

 

Oh, starry nights!

Sezamie otwórz sie!

Sesame, open!

Abrakadabra!

The scent of cinnamon and jasmine fills my nostrils.

I collect fleeting joys in a necklace on memory string:

that wonder of white snowflakes suddenly twirling

in the yellow glow of the street-lamp. Those maple leaves

that covered my path and swish, swish, swished under my feet –

gold and bronze, not wine-red like Canadian maple –

such intense hue cannot possibly exist, it cannot

be real – whole forests in scarlet? Impossible!

 

Everything was paler, softer, gentler,

mellower in my Polish childhood.

So far away, so long ago.

 

We śnie kwitną kwiaty

We śnie ogień płonie.

 

There must be a place where the daffodils forever sprout,

the nightingales forever sing, the gold maple leaves forever crunch

under my forever six-year-old feet on the way to the library 

for my daily dose of six wondrous books.

 

There must be a place where I am so happy 

so so so incredibly proud and happy -

riding my bike all by myself, splashing through

rain puddles on the cracked asphalt.

 

We śnie kwitną kwiaty

We śnie szumią drzewa

We śnie pachną lipy

Słodycz, miód

In Jelonki street, May 2024

On the plane back to California,  June 2024

My California refuge, a ranch house with wood siding, just like my childhood home.

Magic of roses and the mockingbird song, Italian cypress, and hills on the horizon. 

TRANSLATIONS

We śnie gaszę pożar - In the dream I extinguish fire

We śnie ogień płonie - In the dream, the fire burns

 

We śnie szumia drzewa - In the dream, trees rustle

We śnie księżyc wschodzi - In the dream, moon is rising

We śnie kwitną kwiaty - In the dream, flowers bloom

We śnie ogień płonie.- in the dream, the fire burns

We śnie kwitną kwiaty  - In the dream, flowers bloom

We śnie szumią drzewa - In the dream, trees rustle

We śnie pachną lipy - In the dream, linden trees' scent

Słodycz, miód - In the dream, sweetness,  honey