|
Margeritkelekh
In
veldl baym taykhl, dort zenen gevaksn
margeritkelekh
elnt un kleyn
Vi
kleyninke sunen mit vaysinke shtraln,
mit
vaysinke - tralalala.
Gegangen
is Khavele shtil un farkholemt,
tselosn
di goldblonde hor
Dos
heldzl antbloyst un gemurmlt gesungen
a
lidele: Tralalala.
Do
kumt ir antgegn a bokher, a sheyner
mit
lokn, mit shvartse wi pekh.
Er
flamt mit di oygn un entfert ir lustik,
un
entfert ir: "Tralalala!"
"Vos
sukhstu, do meydl? Vos hostu farloyren?
Vos
vilstu gefinen in vald?"
"Ikh
sukh margeritkes!", farroytlt sikh Khave,
farroytlt
sikh, tralalala.
"Du
sukhst nokh? Un ikh hob shoyn take gefunen,
di
sheynste margeritke in vald!
A
margeritke mit tsep un mit oygn safirn,
mit
eygelekh, tralalala!"
"Neyn,
ikh hob shoyn margeritkes ... ikh hob zich fargessn!
Ikh
sukh do - nisht weyt is a quall!"
"Der
quall is geshlossn, un mir bleybst du durshtig
beim
quallkhele, tralalala!"
"Ikh
wil gornisht trinkn! Ikh sukh mir a shottn!
Di
sunn bakt doreyn so heyss!"
"Meyne
hor senen shwartser un kihler wi shottns
in
weldele, tralalala!"
"O
loss mikh! Men tor nisht! Di mame sogt, men tor nisht!
Meyn
mame is alt un is beys!"
"Wu
mame? Wos mame? Do zaynen nor beymer,
nor
beymelech, tralalala!"
"Men
seyt!" - "Keyner seyt nisht!" - "Men
hert!" - "Keyner hert nisht!
Dos
weldl is blind un gedikht.
Umarme
mikh, sisse! Du seyst, ikh bin ruhig.
Ikh
kush dich nur, tralalala!"
"Du
libst mikh?" - "Ikh lib dikh." - "Du
shemst zikh?" - "Ikh shem zikh!" -
"O
lib mikh un shem zikh un shvayk.
Un
ze, wi es mishn zikh pekh-shwartse kroyzn
mit
goldene, tralalala!"
Di
sun is fargangen, der bokher farshwundn,
un
Khavele sitst nokh in vald.
Si
kukt in der waytns un murmlt farkholemt
dos
lidele: Tralalala!
(Trad/
Zalman Shneour, Warschau 1909)
|
Margeritkelekh
In
the woods, near the pond, there grew
daisies
simple and small
Like
tiny suns with beams of white,
with
white - tralalala.
Along
came Khavele, quiet and dreamy,
untied
was her golden blond hair
and
bare was her neck, humming softly
a
little tune: Tralalala.
There,
a boy appears, a fair one
with
curls as black as pitch.
He
twinkles and gaily answers her,
and
answers her: "Tralalala!"
"What
are you looking for, girl? What have you lost?
What
do you think you'll find in the woods?"
"I'm
seeking daisies!", Khave blushed,
blushed,
tralalala.
"You're
still seeking? And I have already found one,
the
fairest daisy in the woods!
A
daisy with plaits and with eyes like sapphires,
with
eyes, tralalala!"
"No,
I've already got daisies ... I just forgot!
I'm
looking for - there's a well nearby!"
"The
well's dried up and you'll remain thirsty
at
that well, tralalala!"
"I
don't want to drink, though! I'll find me some shade!
The
sun is burning so hot!"
"My
hair is blacker and cooler than the shades
in
the woods, tralalala!"
"O
let me! One mustn't! My mum says, one mustn't!
My
mother is old and malicious!"
"Mother
where? What Mother? There are just trees,
only
trees, tralalala!"
"They'll
see!" - "No one's looking!" - "They'll
hear!" - "No one' listening!
The
woods are blind and thick.
Embrace
me, you sweet one! You see, I am gentle.
I'm
just kissing you, tralalala!"
"You
love me?" - "I love you." - "You're
ashamed?" - "I'm ashamed!" -
"O
love me and be ashamed and say nothing.
And
look how pitch black curls are mixing
with
golden ones, tralalala!"
The
sun has gone, the boy has left,
and
Khavele is still sitting in the woods.
She
stares in the distance, dreamily humming
that
little tune: Tralalala!
(Trad/
Zalman Shneour, Warshaw
1909)
|
