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ViewMate Posting VM 114571

Submitted by Christine Lassiege

Information Picture Question
Category: Translation - Hebrew
Approval Date: 5/27/2026 4:06 PM
Family Surname:
Country: Poland
Town: Minsk Mazowiecki 		Click the picture to enlarge

 Dear All
This text is an extract from Minsk Mazowiecki's Yizkor book I would like a complete translation english or french doesn't matter

Thank you very much

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On  Response 
5/30/2026 9:11 AM À l’heure de la séparation
(Paula Tzipkerman – extrait)
Entrée des convois – un convoi blindé accompagné de soldats, à l’ombre des cyprès.
Une jeune fille aux yeux brillants et à la silhouette mince attend sur le seuil. À gauche – le jardin et la question qui montait silencieusement dans le cœur. En face – le vacarme de la ville et l’agitation des gens partis sur la route. Une ville agitée et grande, et au‑dessus d’elle des années d’histoire et de nostalgie. Sur le pont et à son extrémité droite – le monde s’étend.
L’heure de la séparation frappa pour moi sans aucun avertissement. Comme si quelqu’un avait décidé pour moi. Je me tenais là, à l’école, soudain différente. J’aimais le paysage et je trouvais un sens aux paroles des enfants. Dans le cœur, une tempête grandissait devant les événements imminents et tout ce que j’avais laissé derrière moi devenait obscur. Les mains tremblaient. La nuit tombait. Les enfants marchaient dans les rues. Certains semblaient appeler au secours, mais le cri n’atteignait pas les oreilles.
De nombreux indices indiquaient qu’il faudrait partir. Les plantes, la rue, quelque chose d’étrange dans l’air. Pourtant, personne ne parlait ouvertement, mais tous ressentaient la même chose : une inquiétude sourde.
Je me souviens des silhouettes silencieuses dans les rues, des visages fermés, des conversations interrompues. Le monde semblait suspendu entre avant et après. L’incertitude dominait tout.
Peu à peu, les enfants de la maison d’Israël se dispersaient d’un endroit à l’autre, sans savoir ce qui allait arriver. Les parents tentaient de rassurer, mais leurs propres mots trahissaient la peur. Les voisins se rassemblaient, échangeaient des informations, mais sans trouver de certitudes.
Nous nous demandions : que va‑t‑il advenir ? Qui restera ? Qui partira ? Les réponses devenaient de plus en plus vagues. Dans les yeux de chacun se reflétait la même question sans réponse.
Finalement, le départ devint inévitable. Les adieux furent rapides, parfois silencieux. Des mains se serraient, des regards se croisaient une dernière fois. Tout se passait comme dans un rêve.
Et lorsque tout fut terminé, un vide immense resta, comme après une tempête.
Quelque chose s’était brisé – et rien ne serait plus comme avant.
6/1/2026 4:05 PM Paula Teiblum (Tsuckerman)

(Petach-Tikvah)

At the time of departure

Minsk Mazovitski – a town that is located in the heart of Poland, in the shadow of Warsaw, its capital. A town surrounded by forests, and a small streams cuts it into two. On the outskirts – an enormous garden and an ancient castle that is reflected in the stream – the estate of the owners of the town., the family of nobles of the house of Darnlovitch. I was born in this town, I grew, here passed the beautiful days of my childhood. Here I grew up, and from here I sailed to the large world.

From the beginning of my childhood, I recall the Jewish school of my aunt and uncle, Tamar and Yochanan Lieberman, and the schoolteacher Paula Zinger, my cousin. Lovers of Zion and those thirsty for Hebrew sent their children here. In the haziness of my memory from the days of my early childhood I remember hearing the sound of children singing from the yard, in a language I could not understand. I went down, and there was a row of children, decorated with blue-and-white ribbons, going out with their teachers to the forest – it was the holiday of Lag BaOmer. All of their lives my aunt and uncle Lieberman longed to go up to the Land of Israel but this did not come into their hands. Together with all of the Jews of the community of Warsaw, they went up to the center of the destruction.

We lived in the house that my grandfather Reb Hershel Teiblum had erected, in Warsavska Street, corner of Ogrodova, across from the church. Our courtyard – like most of the courtyards of the people in our town – was blessed with neighbors. Mendel Oppenheim – the “Lavnik” [representative of the Jews] and member of the town leadership; Sonnele Rosenberg – a follower of the Rebbe from Skarnovitz; Pinchas-Matis Levshitski and his son Berel-Itsche, who will still be discussed; Reb Yankel Rosenberg – the rich man; Reb Noach Shteinbok – the fanatical follower of Ger; Moshe Vishnivsky – “Dozer/Duzer” [?] representative of the Jewish Board) the tailors; Yossel Orliansky – the “Shpiliter”, [also known as a Shpilitzer, a purchase agent, broker, or delivery transporter], and we among them – the Teiblum family with all its branches in grandfather’s house. Once, years ago, the well-known Farbman family was also our partner in the courtyard, but with the passage of time they moved to the other side of town.

The Jews’ homes were blessed with children, and our courtyard was not different from the rest. I can still remember the children with whom I played and ran wild – and the conditions in our courtyard were better than others because it touched the fence of the “Paritz” garden. The garden of the Paritz [squire]! How can I not mention you?! And weren’t most of our games played in the shadow of your trees! And the stream of water that was between you and between our courtyard – how many experiences did it leave in my memory! The giant nut [walnut?] trees that were on the other side of the garden fence sent their branches towards our windows, and until today the excitement grabs me when I am reminded how I stood watch when those bigger than I were climbing on the nut trees to pick of their fruit, and my job was to warn them when the keeper of the garden was approaching.

Minsk had good young people. Each one sought his path in life, his personal truth. Some in the “Bund”, some with the Communists, and many-many in the Zionist movements. In earlier years, Minsk was a religious town. Large houses of learning – three, and “Shtiebels” of the Chassidim according to their type – an abundance. I remember, when the “Shtiebel” of the Gerer Chassidim burned on one Shabbat night – immediately a new one was erected in its place, and more splendid.

One of the Gerer Chassidiem – and he has already been mentioned – was Reb Pinchas-Matis Lushitsky,

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