Es Pennsilfaanisch Deitsch Eck

Es Pennsilfaanisch Deitsch Eck

(Originally published in the March 17, 1982 issue of
The Shopping News)

Mei Draam
By Paul B. Horning

Letscht Nacht hab ich en Draam ghat

Vun me Schnee-Schtarm draus im Land.

Es hot gschneet un der Wind hot geblose;

Alles waar dunkel un ich waar net im Schtand

Fer mich uff der Fiess zu halde im diefe Schnee.

Ich hab net gwisst wu ich bin –

Nix waar mir bekannt!

 

Der Schnee waar diefer as mei Gnie!

Ich hab dicke wollne Gleeder gewore;

Doch hab ich mich net waarem halde kenne;

In meim Lewe hab ich nix so erfaahre.

Ich hab mich so langsam varschich gschafft,

Waar mied un kalt un was noch, verlore!

 

Ich bin zum Letschde an en Poschdefens kumme.

Denk ich, daere Fens gehn ich mol nooch,

Die gheert gewiss zu ere Bauerei do rum.

Am ewwerschde Riggel halt ghat –

Sie waar vier Riggel hoch!

Hab alli Gebott gschtoppt fer bissel ruhge;

Waar schier gaar ausgschpielt,

Dann harrich en Schprooch!

 

Harrich mol! Die Schprooch laut ganz bekannt.

Der Wind bloost so hatt, ich haer sie schier net.

Dann uff eemol ruft die Mammi: “Schteh uff!

Es is Zeit fer Mariye Esse!

Leischt zu lang im Bett!”

So mach ich en Schluss zu meim Draam, schteh uf,

Geh naus un ropp en Orange, gross dick un fett.

***

Last night I had a dream

Of a snowstorm out in the country.

It snowed and the wind blew;

All was dark and I was in no condition

To stay on my feet in the deep snow.

I didn’t know where I was –

Nothing was familiar to me!

 

The snow was deeper than my knees!

I wore thick woolen clothes,

Yet I couldn’t stay warm;

Never in my life had I ever experienced this.

Slowly I worked my way forward,

Was cold and to boot, lost!

 

Finally I came to a fence post!

Thought I, I’ll follow this fence;

It certainly belongs to a farm nearby.

I took hold of the top rail –

It was four rails high!

I stopped every now and then to rest a bit;

I was almost played out,

Then I hear a voice!

 

Listen! The voice sounds very familiar.

The wind blows so hard,

I hardly hear it (the voice).

Then all of a sudden Mom calls:

“Get up! It’s time for breakfast!

You’re lying too long in bed!”

So I end my dream, get up,

Go out and pick an orange, round and fat.

***

Just about a month ago, we had a letter from our Dutch bard of St. Petersburg telling us of his latest adventures and travels (in a wheelchair!). Paul’s legs may not always take him where he wants to go, but the wheels of his wheelchair certainly will.

We are delighted to know that Paul is not housebound and is enjoying visits with children and grandchildren in the deep South.

Hard upon the heels of Paul’s latest letter came another envelope containing three poems of recent vintage. Mei Draam, which we share with you this week, was written on February 16, 1982. En Wille (A Will), is dated February 13; and En Lieblicher Daag (A Lovely Day) came forth on February 15.

In the next two Eck’s, we will print En Wille and En Lieblicher Daag.

March 17, 1982

Es Bischli-Gnippli