Once again, Dr. Joan Braman returns to Der Vinkl with her astute translations of English classics into Yiddish. This time we have the opening and closing stanzas of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s…

Ode to the West Wind

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being

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Thou from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are driven like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,

Pestilence-stricken multitudes! O thou,

Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed

The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low,

Each like a corpse within its grave, until

Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow

Her clarion o’er the dreaming earth, and fill

(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)

With living hues and odours plain and hill;

Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;

Destroyer and preserver; hear, O hear!

* * *|

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:

What if my leaves are falling like its own?

The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,

Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,

My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe,

Like wither’d leaves, to quicken a new birth;

And, by the incantation of this verse,

Scatter, as from an unextinguish’d hearth

Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!

Be through my lips to unawaken’d earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,

If winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

Ode Tsum Mayrevdikn Vint

O vilder vint, fun harbst der gayst umzeyik,

Vos fun dir vi sheydim di bleterlekh, di toyte,

Getribn vern vi fun a makhasheyfe,

Gele, shvartse, bleykhe, un fiberdike: royte,

Di kranke hordes, di fliendike pleytim; O du,

Vos in dayn karete first di gefalene zoymens

Tsu zeyer vinterdiker bet tsu lign in ru,

Yeder eyner vi a mes in zayn eygenem keyver,

Biz dayn shvester funem friling, himl bloy

Vet ir shoyfer blozn (traybndik di kveytn

In luft tsu pashen) un der gantser erd

Farflantst mit alerley farbn un zise reykhes:

Du gayst, du vilde, vos blost ahin un aher,

Fartiliker un ratever, her, o her!…

* * *|

Lomikh zayn dayn harf, azoy vi der vald,

Khotsh farvelkt oykh mayne bleter, dayn muzik,

Vos hilkht iber der farkholemter velt,

Vet nemen fun zey a milder ton, a troyerike,

Zis un melankholish: du gayst mayner,

Zay mayn neshome! Zay mikh, du moyrediker!

Mayne gedanken ibern erd zolst traybn,

Azoy vi di fartriknte bleter, un tsum oylem

Der klang fun mayne ferzn vet brengen banayung.

Mayne verter, vi ash un blishtshendike koyln,

Tseshpreyt zoln zayn vi fun an umfarleshtn kamin

Iber der umbavakhter erd! Makh mir dayn moyl,

Un vi a troymeyt veln zayn mayne gramen!

Oyb vinter kumt, vet friling nit farzamen!

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