Kostanjenboom 

vun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Oornmoond 1995)  

To jede Johrstiet hebb ik mien Freid an di. Vun mien Schriefdisch ut kiek ik op di, du stulte Boom. Schier büß du wussen, un stult roogt dien brede Kroon öber de Hüüs an de Kiebitzreeg. Männig Vogels fleegt bi di in un ut. Du büß jüm een goden Gastgeber. Dien dichtet Loofdack beed jüm Schuul. Ok den Disch hest du för uns lütten Sängers deckt. An dien' Stamm, Äst, Telgen un Blöder krüppt noog rüm, wat jüm satt mookt. Du warrst jo ok nich sprütt mit Insektizide un all de annern Gifften, de dien Breuder, de Oofbäum över sik ergohn loten mööt. Du, mien Kostanjenboom, müß bloots dat Ümweltgifft slucken wat bi uns Industriestooten so veel toschann mookt. Ok dat is al noog! Ober wat dien Inwohners bi di seukt un finn't, dat is sund, dorvun starvt se un jümehr Kinner nich. Jo, ik hebb veel Freid an di, ober to Tiet sorg ik mi bannig üm di. Wi sünd mit den Klenner merden in August. Hebb al foken an dien groten Döst bi disse Hitten, de wi Noorddüütschen gor nich wohnt sünd, dacht. Wi Minschen köönt uns helpen, wi sett uns in't Auto, un gau warrt bi Otterstätter un Schröder de Kufferruum vullknallt mit allns wat uns good smeckt. Ober du, mien lebe, smucke Kostanjenboom, wat mookst du? Büß jo een stootschen Boom! Heß doch sachs ok dicke un lange Wutteln, kriegt se dat Grundwoter noch foot? Will höpen, datt dat so is. Ok de Grundwoterspegel warrt bi disse Dreugnis un Hitten afsacken. Wenn du mi doch antern kunnst! Liekers gleuv ik, datt du mi tohüürst un ok versteihst. Minschen, besünners de Buurn, Deerten un al de Bäum, liekso as du, jankt no Woter, no een Afkeuhlen. Hunger deit nich so weh as Döst. Een oles Seggwuurt kummt mi in'n Sinn . 

Wat kann ik mi ümmer högen wenn to Freuhjohrstiet de jungen Blöder ut all dien Telgen krüüpt, un denn steihst du ok bald in Bleuh. Hunnerte vun lütte, witte Dannenbäum hest du för mi ansteken. Is dat een Ogenweid! Püük, as en Bruut in ehr Hochtietskleed sühst du denn ut. Nu, in al de Hitten seeh ik dien Frücht, dien Kostanjen, wassen. Duurt nich lang, un Kinner sünd dorbi jüm optoseuken. De Ogen vun de lütten Klobauters sünd denn jüst so blank as dien frisch ut de Schell fulln Kostanjen. Jo, un so bilütten warrt denn ok dien Blöder geel. De Harß hült Intoog. In de Notur nemmt allns sien Loop. Du geihst in den verdeenten Wintersloop. Ober mien Freid an di hett noch keen Enn'. Nu helpt mien Mann ober so'n lütt beten mit. De ierste Frost kummt wiß, un nu warrt in dien ünnerste Astgobel jeden Morgen een handvull Hosel- un Walnööt leggt. Wat meenst du wull, wo gau de lütt Kotheker dat ruut hett. Vun mien Schriefdisch ut, mien Mann steiht achter mi, höögt wi uns, wo good em dat smeckt. Wenn Fro Holle dat good meent, kriggst du to Wiehnachten een wittet Kleed. Ober ik mag di ok so lieden, mien Kostanjenboom, du tellst to mien besten Frünn'. 
 

Chestnut Tree 

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(August 1995)  

I delight in you, no matter what season. From my desk I gaze at you, proud tree. You have grown up to be beautiful, and proud does your wide crown tower above the houses on Lapwing Row. Many a bird goes flying in and out of you. You are a good host to them. Your dense leafy roof offers them refuge. And you have set the table for the little songsters. On your trunk, branches, twigs and leaves there is enough crawling about to let them have their fill. After all, you do not get sprayed with the insecticide and other types of toxins that your brothers, the fruit trees, have to endure. You, my chestnut tree, must only swallow the environmental poisons that ruins so much in our industrialized nations. As though this was not [bad] enough!  But what your inhabitants seek and find in you is healthy; it will not kill them and their children. Yes, I find much enjoyment in you, but currently I worry about you a lot. According to the calender, we are in the middle of August. I have been thinking a lot about your great thirst in this heat to which we North Germans are not at all accustomed. We humans manage to get relief; we get into the car, and soon the trunk gets stuffed full of tasty things at Otterstaetter's and Schroeder's. But you, my dear, beautiful chestnut tree, what do you do? You are a large tree, after all! You must have thick and long roots. Do they manage to get to the ground water? I hope they do. The ground water level will be lowered in this drought and heat too. If only you could answer me! Still, I believe that you listen to me and understand me. People - especially the farmers - animals and all the trees, just like you, yearn for water, for cooling. Hunger does not hurt as much as does thirst. An old saying comes back to me: "Thirst is worse than longing." 

How much I always enjoy it when the young leaves start peeping out of all of your twigs, and soon thereafter you are in bloom! You will have lit hundreds of small, white Christmas trees for me. What a sight for sore eyes that is! Then you look gorgeous, just like a bride in her wedding dress. Now, in all this heat, I see your fruit growing, the chestnuts. Not long from now children will be gathering them.  The eyes of those little tykes are always as shiny as your chestnuts freshly fallen out of their shells. Well, and gradually your leaves will turn yellow. Autumn will move in. Everything in nature takes its course. You will go into your well-earned hibernation. But my enjoyment in you will not yet be over. Now my husband helps out a little. Surely the first frost will arrive, and then we will put a handfull of hazelnuts and walnuts onto the lowermost tree fork. What do you know? How soon the little squirrel gets wind of that! From my desk - my husband standing behind me - we are entertained watching it enjoying [the treat]. If the Snow Lady is kindly inclined, you will get a white dress for Christmas. But I also like you just like this, my chestnut tree. You are one of my best friends. 

Kaastanjenboum 

fun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Aarnmaand 1995)  

Tou jeide jaarsstiid hev ik miin fraid' an dii. Fun miin schriivdisch uut kiik ik op dii, duu stulte boum. Schiir buest duu wussen, un stult raagt diin breide kroon euver de huys' an de Kibitsreig'. Mennig fagels fleigt bii dii in un uut. Duu buest juem 'n gouden gastgever. Diin dichtet louvdak beidt juem schuul. Ouk d'n disch hest duu foer uns luetten sengers dekd. An diin stam, est, telgen un bleuder kruept noug ruem wat juem sat maakt. Duu wardst jaa ouk nich spruett mit insektitside un al de annern giften dei diin broyder, de aaftboym, euver sik ergaan laten moytt. Duu, miin kaastanjenboum, muest bloots dat uemweltgift slukken wat bii uns industriistaten soo feel touschanden maakt. Ouk dat is al noug! Aver wat diin inwaners bii dii soykt un findt, dat is sund; daarfun starvt sei un juem eir kinder nich. Jaa, ik hev feel fraid' an dii, aver tou tiid sorg' ik mii bannig uem dii. Wii suend mit den klenner merden in August. Hev al faken an diin groten doest bii disse hitten, dei wii Nordduytschen gaar nich waant suend, dachd. Wii minschen keunt uns helpen; wii sett uns in 't auto, un gau wardt bii Otterstaetter un Schroeder de kufferruum ful-knald mit allens wat uns goud smekt. Aver duu, miin leive, smukke kaastanjenboum, wat maakst duu? Buest jaa 'n staatschen boum! Hest doch sachs ouk dikke un lange wutteln. Kriigt sei dat grundwater noch faat? Wil heupen dat dat soo is. Ouk de grundwaterspeigel wardt bii disse droygnis un hitten af-sakken. Wen duu mii doch antern kunst! Likers gloyv ik dat duu mii tou-hoyrst un ouk ferstaist. Minschen - besuenners de buren - deerten un al de boym, liik soo as duu, jankt naa water, naa 'n afkoylen. Hunger dait nich soo wei as doest. 'n Oldes segwourd kumt mii in d'n sin: ,,Doest is leiger as lengen''. 

Wat kan ik mii uemmer heugen wen tou froyjaarstiid de jungen bleuder uut al diin telgen kruypt, un den staist duu ouk bald in bloy. Hunnerde fun luette, witte dannenboym hest duu foer mii an-steken. Is dat 'n ougenwaid'! Puyk as 'n bruud in eir hochtiidskleid suyst duu den uut. Nuu, in al de hitten, seig' ik diin fruecht, diin kaastanjen, wassen. Duurt nich lang' un kinder suend daarbii juem op tou soyken. De ougen fun de luetten klabauters suend den juest soo blank as diin frisch uut de schel fullen kaastanjen. Jaa, un soo bii luetten wardt den ouk diin bleuder geel. De harvst huelt intoug. In de natuur nemt allens siin loup. Duu gaist in d'n ferdeinten winterslaap. Aver miin fraid an dii het noch kein end. Nuu helpt miin man aver soo 'n luet beten mit. De eirste frost kumt wiss, un nuu wardt in diin uennerste astgabel jeiden morgen 'n handful hasel- un walneut legd. Wat meinst duu wul wou gau de luet kateiker dat ruut het. Fun miin schriivdisch uut - miin man stait achter mii - heugt wii uns wou goud em dat smekt. Wen Frou Holle dat goud meint krigst duu tou Winachten 'n wittet kleid. Aver ik mag dii ouk soo liden, miin kaastanjenboum. Duu telst tou miin besten fruenden. 
 

Chestnut Tree 

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(August 1995)  

I delight in you, no matter what season. From my desk I gaze at you, proud tree. You have grown up to be beautiful, and proud does your wide crown tower above the houses on Lapwing Row. Many a bird goes flying in and out of you. You are a good host to them. Your dense leafy roof offers them refuge. And you have set the table for the little songsters. On your trunk, branches, twigs and leaves there is enough crawling about to let them have their fill. After all, you do not get sprayed with the insecticide and other types of toxins that your brothers, the fruit trees, have to endure. You, my chestnut tree, must only swallow the environmental poisons that ruins so much in our industrialized nations. As though this was not [bad] enough!  But what your inhabitants seek and find in you is healthy; it will not kill them and their children. Yes, I find much enjoyment in you, but currently I worry about you a lot. According to the calender, we are in the middle of August. I have been thinking a lot about your great thirst in this heat to which we North Germans are not at all accustomed. We humans manage to get relief; we get into the car, and soon the trunk gets stuffed full of tasty things at Otterstaetter's and Schroeder's. But you, my dear, beautiful chestnut tree, what do you do? You are a large tree, after all! You must have thick and long roots. Do they manage to get to the ground water? I hope they do. The ground water level will be lowered in this drought and heat too. If only you could answer me! Still, I believe that you listen to me and understand me. People - especially the farmers - animals and all the trees, just like you, yearn for water, for cooling. Hunger does not hurt as much as does thirst. An old saying comes back to me: "Thirst is worse than longing." 

How much I always enjoy it when the young leaves start peeping out of all of your twigs, and soon thereafter you are in bloom! You will have lit hundreds of small, white Christmas trees for me. What a sight for sore eyes that is! Then you look gorgeous, just like a bride in her wedding dress. Now, in all this heat, I see your fruit growing, the chestnuts. Not long from now children will be gathering them.  The eyes of those little tykes are always as shiny as your chestnuts freshly fallen out of their shells. Well, and gradually your leaves will turn yellow. Autumn will move in. Everything in nature takes its course. You will go into your well-earned hibernation. But my enjoyment in you will not yet be over. Now my husband helps out a little. Surely the first frost will arrive, and then we will put a handfull of hazelnuts and walnuts onto the lowermost tree fork. What do you know? How soon the little squirrel gets wind of that! From my desk - my husband standing behind me - we are entertained watching it enjoying [the treat]. If the Snow Lady is kindly inclined, you will get a white dress for Christmas. But I also like you just like this, my chestnut tree. You are one of my best friends. 

Kostanjenboom 

vun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Oornmoond 1995)  

To jede Johrstiet hebb ik mien Freid an di. Vun mien Schriefdisch ut kiek ik op di, du stulte Boom. Schier büß du wussen, un stult roogt dien brede Kroon öber de Hüüs an de Kiebitzreeg. Männig Vogels fleegt bi di in un ut. Du büß jüm een goden Gastgeber. Dien dichtet Loofdack beed jüm Schuul. Ok den Disch hest du för uns lütten Sängers deckt. An dien' Stamm, Äst, Telgen un Blöder krüppt noog rüm, wat jüm satt mookt. Du warrst jo ok nich sprütt mit Insektizide un all de annern Gifften, de dien Breuder, de Oofbäum över sik ergohn loten mööt. Du, mien Kostanjenboom, müß bloots dat Ümweltgifft slucken wat bi uns Industriestooten so veel toschann mookt. Ok dat is al noog! Ober wat dien Inwohners bi di seukt un finn't, dat is sund, dorvun starvt se un jümehr Kinner nich. Jo, ik hebb veel Freid an di, ober to Tiet sorg ik mi bannig üm di. Wi sünd mit den Klenner merden in August. Hebb al foken an dien groten Döst bi disse Hitten, de wi Noorddüütschen gor nich wohnt sünd, dacht. Wi Minschen köönt uns helpen, wi sett uns in't Auto, un gau warrt bi Otterstätter un Schröder de Kufferruum vullknallt mit allns wat uns good smeckt. Ober du, mien lebe, smucke Kostanjenboom, wat mookst du? Büß jo een stootschen Boom! Heß doch sachs ok dicke un lange Wutteln, kriegt se dat Grundwoter noch foot? Will höpen, datt dat so is. Ok de Grundwoterspegel warrt bi disse Dreugnis un Hitten afsacken. Wenn du mi doch antern kunnst! Liekers gleuv ik, datt du mi tohüürst un ok versteihst. Minschen, besünners de Buurn, Deerten un al de Bäum, liekso as du, jankt no Woter, no een Afkeuhlen. Hunger deit nich so weh as Döst. Een oles Seggwuurt kummt mi in'n Sinn . 

Wat kann ik mi ümmer högen wenn to Freuhjohrstiet de jungen Blöder ut all dien Telgen krüüpt, un denn steihst du ok bald in Bleuh. Hunnerte vun lütte, witte Dannenbäum hest du för mi ansteken. Is dat een Ogenweid! Püük, as en Bruut in ehr Hochtietskleed sühst du denn ut. Nu, in al de Hitten seeh ik dien Frücht, dien Kostanjen, wassen. Duurt nich lang, un Kinner sünd dorbi jüm optoseuken. De Ogen vun de lütten Klobauters sünd denn jüst so blank as dien frisch ut de Schell fulln Kostanjen. Jo, un so bilütten warrt denn ok dien Blöder geel. De Harß hült Intoog. In de Notur nemmt allns sien Loop. Du geihst in den verdeenten Wintersloop. Ober mien Freid an di hett noch keen Enn'. Nu helpt mien Mann ober so'n lütt beten mit. De ierste Frost kummt wiß, un nu warrt in dien ünnerste Astgobel jeden Morgen een handvull Hosel- un Walnööt leggt. Wat meenst du wull, wo gau de lütt Kotheker dat ruut hett. Vun mien Schriefdisch ut, mien Mann steiht achter mi, höögt wi uns, wo good em dat smeckt. Wenn Fro Holle dat good meent, kriggst du to Wiehnachten een wittet Kleed. Ober ik mag di ok so lieden, mien Kostanjenboom, du tellst to mien besten Frünn'. 
 

Chestnut Tree 

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(August 1995)  

I delight in you, no matter what season. From my desk I gaze at you, proud tree. You have grown up to be beautiful, and proud does your wide crown tower above the houses on Lapwing Row. Many a bird goes flying in and out of you. You are a good host to them. Your dense leafy roof offers them refuge. And you have set the table for the little songsters. On your trunk, branches, twigs and leaves there is enough crawling about to let them have their fill. After all, you do not get sprayed with the insecticide and other types of toxins that your brothers, the fruit trees, have to endure. You, my chestnut tree, must only swallow the environmental poisons that ruins so much in our industrialized nations. As though this was not [bad] enough!  But what your inhabitants seek and find in you is healthy; it will not kill them and their children. Yes, I find much enjoyment in you, but currently I worry about you a lot. According to the calender, we are in the middle of August. I have been thinking a lot about your great thirst in this heat to which we North Germans are not at all accustomed. We humans manage to get relief; we get into the car, and soon the trunk gets stuffed full of tasty things at Otterstaetter's and Schroeder's. But you, my dear, beautiful chestnut tree, what do you do? You are a large tree, after all! You must have thick and long roots. Do they manage to get to the ground water? I hope they do. The ground water level will be lowered in this drought and heat too. If only you could answer me! Still, I believe that you listen to me and understand me. People - especially the farmers - animals and all the trees, just like you, yearn for water, for cooling. Hunger does not hurt as much as does thirst. An old saying comes back to me: "Thirst is worse than longing." 

How much I always enjoy it when the young leaves start peeping out of all of your twigs, and soon thereafter you are in bloom! You will have lit hundreds of small, white Christmas trees for me. What a sight for sore eyes that is! Then you look gorgeous, just like a bride in her wedding dress. Now, in all this heat, I see your fruit growing, the chestnuts. Not long from now children will be gathering them.  The eyes of those little tykes are always as shiny as your chestnuts freshly fallen out of their shells. Well, and gradually your leaves will turn yellow. Autumn will move in. Everything in nature takes its course. You will go into your well-earned hibernation. But my enjoyment in you will not yet be over. Now my husband helps out a little. Surely the first frost will arrive, and then we will put a handfull of hazelnuts and walnuts onto the lowermost tree fork. What do you know? How soon the little squirrel gets wind of that! From my desk - my husband standing behind me - we are entertained watching it enjoying [the treat]. If the Snow Lady is kindly inclined, you will get a white dress for Christmas. But I also like you just like this, my chestnut tree. You are one of my best friends. 

Kaastanjenboum 

fun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Aarnmaand 1995)  

Tou jeide jaarsstiid hev ik miin fraid' an dii. Fun miin schriivdisch uut kiik ik op dii, duu stulte boum. Schiir buest duu wussen, un stult raagt diin breide kroon euver de huys' an de Kibitsreig'. Mennig fagels fleigt bii dii in un uut. Duu buest juem 'n gouden gastgever. Diin dichtet louvdak beidt juem schuul. Ouk d'n disch hest duu foer uns luetten sengers dekd. An diin stam, est, telgen un bleuder kruept noug ruem wat juem sat maakt. Duu wardst jaa ouk nich spruett mit insektitside un al de annern giften dei diin broyder, de aaftboym, euver sik ergaan laten moytt. Duu, miin kaastanjenboum, muest bloots dat uemweltgift slukken wat bii uns industriistaten soo feel touschanden maakt. Ouk dat is al noug! Aver wat diin inwaners bii dii soykt un findt, dat is sund; daarfun starvt sei un juem eir kinder nich. Jaa, ik hev feel fraid' an dii, aver tou tiid sorg' ik mii bannig uem dii. Wii suend mit den klenner merden in August. Hev al faken an diin groten doest bii disse hitten, dei wii Nordduytschen gaar nich waant suend, dachd. Wii minschen keunt uns helpen; wii sett uns in 't auto, un gau wardt bii Otterstaetter un Schroeder de kufferruum ful-knald mit allens wat uns goud smekt. Aver duu, miin leive, smukke kaastanjenboum, wat maakst duu? Buest jaa 'n staatschen boum! Hest doch sachs ouk dikke un lange wutteln. Kriigt sei dat grundwater noch faat? Wil heupen dat dat soo is. Ouk de grundwaterspeigel wardt bii disse droygnis un hitten af-sakken. Wen duu mii doch antern kunst! Likers gloyv ik dat duu mii tou-hoyrst un ouk ferstaist. Minschen - besuenners de buren - deerten un al de boym, liik soo as duu, jankt naa water, naa 'n afkoylen. Hunger dait nich soo wei as doest. 'n Oldes segwourd kumt mii in d'n sin: ,,Doest is leiger as lengen''. 

Wat kan ik mii uemmer heugen wen tou froyjaarstiid de jungen bleuder uut al diin telgen kruypt, un den staist duu ouk bald in bloy. Hunnerde fun luette, witte dannenboym hest duu foer mii an-steken. Is dat 'n ougenwaid'! Puyk as 'n bruud in eir hochtiidskleid suyst duu den uut. Nuu, in al de hitten, seig' ik diin fruecht, diin kaastanjen, wassen. Duurt nich lang' un kinder suend daarbii juem op tou soyken. De ougen fun de luetten klabauters suend den juest soo blank as diin frisch uut de schel fullen kaastanjen. Jaa, un soo bii luetten wardt den ouk diin bleuder geel. De harvst huelt intoug. In de natuur nemt allens siin loup. Duu gaist in d'n ferdeinten winterslaap. Aver miin fraid an dii het noch kein end. Nuu helpt miin man aver soo 'n luet beten mit. De eirste frost kumt wiss, un nuu wardt in diin uennerste astgabel jeiden morgen 'n handful hasel- un walneut legd. Wat meinst duu wul wou gau de luet kateiker dat ruut het. Fun miin schriivdisch uut - miin man stait achter mii - heugt wii uns wou goud em dat smekt. Wen Frou Holle dat goud meint krigst duu tou Winachten 'n wittet kleid. Aver ik mag dii ouk soo liden, miin kaastanjenboum. Duu telst tou miin besten fruenden. 
 

Chestnut Tree 

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(August 1995)  

I delight in you, no matter what season. From my desk I gaze at you, proud tree. You have grown up to be beautiful, and proud does your wide crown tower above the houses on Lapwing Row. Many a bird goes flying in and out of you. You are a good host to them. Your dense leafy roof offers them refuge. And you have set the table for the little songsters. On your trunk, branches, twigs and leaves there is enough crawling about to let them have their fill. After all, you do not get sprayed with the insecticide and other types of toxins that your brothers, the fruit trees, have to endure. You, my chestnut tree, must only swallow the environmental poisons that ruins so much in our industrialized nations. As though this was not [bad] enough!  But what your inhabitants seek and find in you is healthy; it will not kill them and their children. Yes, I find much enjoyment in you, but currently I worry about you a lot. According to the calender, we are in the middle of August. I have been thinking a lot about your great thirst in this heat to which we North Germans are not at all accustomed. We humans manage to get relief; we get into the car, and soon the trunk gets stuffed full of tasty things at Otterstaetter's and Schroeder's. But you, my dear, beautiful chestnut tree, what do you do? You are a large tree, after all! You must have thick and long roots. Do they manage to get to the ground water? I hope they do. The ground water level will be lowered in this drought and heat too. If only you could answer me! Still, I believe that you listen to me and understand me. People - especially the farmers - animals and all the trees, just like you, yearn for water, for cooling. Hunger does not hurt as much as does thirst. An old saying comes back to me: "Thirst is worse than longing." 

How much I always enjoy it when the young leaves start peeping out of all of your twigs, and soon thereafter you are in bloom! You will have lit hundreds of small, white Christmas trees for me. What a sight for sore eyes that is! Then you look gorgeous, just like a bride in her wedding dress. Now, in all this heat, I see your fruit growing, the chestnuts. Not long from now children will be gathering them.  The eyes of those little tykes are always as shiny as your chestnuts freshly fallen out of their shells. Well, and gradually your leaves will turn yellow. Autumn will move in. Everything in nature takes its course. You will go into your well-earned hibernation. But my enjoyment in you will not yet be over. Now my husband helps out a little. Surely the first frost will arrive, and then we will put a handfull of hazelnuts and walnuts onto the lowermost tree fork. What do you know? How soon the little squirrel gets wind of that! From my desk - my husband standing behind me - we are entertained watching it enjoying [the treat]. If the Snow Lady is kindly inclined, you will get a white dress for Christmas. But I also like you just like this, my chestnut tree. You are one of my best friends.