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Author: Subject: B. 102. The Orphan
mersiowsky
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[*] posted on 8-15-2015 at 10:52 PM
B. 102. The Orphan


(From Maria Rubyn in Burk)
Translated by John Buerfeind

The orphan staggers three times around the cemetery,
The orphan staggers three times around the cemetery,
And then she finds the mother’s grave.

My mother, please rise!
My mother, please rise!
Come and cut for me a slice of bread.

‘You have a young mother at home,
You have a young mother at home,
Have her cut you a slice of bread.’

The young mother has her own children,
For her children she prepares toast,
Will not even give me the burnt crust.

My mother, please rise!
My mother, please rise!
Come and wash my shirt.

‘You have a young mother at home,
You have a young mother at home,
Have her wash your shirt.’

The young mother may wash my shirt
But she rips it into shreds
Throws it then in my corner.

My mother, please rise!
My mother, please rise!
Come and comb out the hair on my head.

‘You have a young mother at home,
You have a young mother at home,
Let her comb the hair on your head.’

The young mother may comb the hair on my head,
But she will also hit it,
And always, always pushes it away from herself.

My mother, please rise!
My mother, please rise!
Oh, my child I can never get up.

Upon my chest lies a heavy stone,
Over my eyes white sand,
And a green lawn at my feet.

Out of the heavens came two angels,
Took the orphan child by the hand,
Flew with it into Heaven.


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