Once again, Joan Braman returns to Der Vinkl with one of her impressive translations of English classics into Yiddish, This time, the poem is William Wordsworth’s “Daffodils.”


I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretch’d in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay

In such a jocund company:

I gazed — and gazed — but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft when on my couch I lie,

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

* * *

Goldene Blumen

Vi a volkndl an elnte

Vos shvebt ariber berg un toln,

Vanderndik kh’hob gezen in gegnt,

A makhne blumen goldene;

Lebn vaser hobn zey geglantst

Un in a vintl, gefokhet un getantst.

Oysgeshtrekt oyf vayt un breyt,

Vi in Milkhveg shtern nokhanand,

Di blumen in an eybiker rey,

Lebn der bukhte, oyfn rand:

Tsen toyznt ze ikh, in an onblik.

Lustig un freylekh tantsndik

Di khvalyes tantsn oykh, ober zey,

Mer khedvedik nokh vi di khvalyes;

A poet volt gemust zikh freyen

In aza simkhedike kompanye;

Ikh hob gekukt, nor nit getrakht

Vos far an oyster s’hot mir gebrakht.

Vayl oft mol, aleyn un ongelent,

In shtiln aynzamen gemit,

Via kholem far di oygn blendt

Der oylem gants in gold tseblit;

Dan dos harts mit hanoye vert banumen

Un tantst in eynem mit di blumen.

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