- Düsse Siedenserie ward vun Reinhard F. Hahn (sassisch@geocities.com) rutgeven. Alle Warken sünd rechtlich schütt un dröfft nich ahn Verlööf (101477.2611@compuserve.com) wiedergeven warrn. De Serie is för Netscape 4.04 or beter maakt worrn. De Achtergrund is 'n Tackendook, dat vun Fru Kramer-Freudenthal ehr egene Hand maakt worrn is.
- This page series is being published by Reinhard F. Hahn (sassisch@geocities.com). All works are copyrighted and may not be distributed without permission (101477.2611@compuserve.com). The series has been designed for Netscape 4.04 or higher. The background is a handkerchief with lace border made by Ms. Kramer-Freudenthal's own hand.
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- © 1997, R. F. Hahn
Low Saxon in the original orthography: Mudderdag 1997
vun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Maimoond 1997)De twete Suenndag in'n Maimoond is all' de Mudders op unsen Ierdball todacht. MUDDER, wat liggt nich in dit Wuurt an Warms, Leev, Sorg, Help, Glück un wat noch allns. Leber sülbst krank ween, as dat Kind lieden sehn. De Kinner schüllt dat jo mol beter hebben, sik nich so afwrucken as Vadder un Mudder dat no den Krieg müssen, so dachen de miersten Öllern un hebbt ut nix warrer wat op de Been stellt. So is dat ok uns gohn. Den 13. [deerteihnten] Oktober 1945 [negenhunnert fief-un-veertig] stünn ik mit mien Fomilje vör mien Öllernhuus. Uns Riekdom? Een Öllernhuus, een Mudder, de uns mit open Arms an't Hatt drückt hett, sunne Hannen un een kloorn Kopp, de uns wies, woneem dat nu langs un wieder geiht. De gröttste Stütten wüür as ümmer uns Mamma. Dat Swore wüür gor nich mihr so swoor, Mamma sä: ,,Wat ji verloorn hebbt is to ersetten, dat sünd irdsche Geuder. Ji sünd sund un jung, Gott Voder warrt wieder helpen." ... un he hett holpen.''
Dank an mien Mudder
Jung büß Du koom in't Ole Land.
Büß bleben dor een Leben lang.
Ut scheune Hulsteen keumst Du her.
Heß uns vertellt füll Di recht swöör.Doch allns keum anners as Du dachst.
De Leev heul in Olland Di fast.
Acht Kinner bröchst Du dor to Welt.
In swore Tieden fehl dat Geld.Verlorn heß ober nie Dien Moot.
De Tiet hett meent nich ümmer good.
Keen Doon för uns wöör Di toveel.
Harrs Sorg, wenn uns wat drück de Seel.Uns wat to lihrn neumst Du di Tiet.
Mit goden Root stünnst uns to Siet.
Twee grote Jungs Du hest verloorn.
Twee lütte Dierns dorno sünd boorn.Torüch keum ik no Flucht un Krieg,
mit Kinner, Mann un wieder nix.
Du neumst uns in Dien Arms vull Glück. Heß mit uns deelt Dien beten Tüüch.För all Dien Leev segg ik Di Dank.
Vergeet Di nich mien Leben lang,
denn wat ik kann, dat is Dien Wark
mien lebet, godet Mudderhart.
English translation by R. F. Hahn: Mother's Day 1997
by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(May 1997)The second Sunday in May has been dedicated to all mothers on Earth. "Mother" ... How much warmth, love, worry, help, happiness and whatever else lies in this word! Preferring to be ill oneself to having to watch one's child suffer. Hopefully one's children will be better off, will not have to slave the way father and mother needed to slave away after the war. This is how most parents used to think, and they created something from nothing. This is what happened to us, too. On the 13th of October 1945 my family and I stood in front of my childhood home. Our wealth? A childhood home, a mother who welcomed us with open arms and hugged us, healthy hands, and a clear head that showed us the way ahead. It was always Mommy from whom the greatest support came. Problems ceased to be so problematic. Mommy said, "What you have lost can be replaced. They are earthly goods. You are healthy and young. The Lord will help you go on." ... and help He did.
Thanks to my Mother
Young you arrived in the Old Land.
And there you stayed then all your life.
From lovely Holstein you had come.
As you told us, you found it hard.All turned out different than you thought.
Love tied you down in the Old Land.
Eight kids you brought into the world.
Money was scarce when times were hard.You never lost your courage though.
Times were not always kind to you.
For us you'd do most anything.
You'd worry when worries would get us down.You took the time to teach us things,
Stood at our sides with your advice.
Two adult sons you had to lose
And then you bore two baby girls.When I returned a refugee
With children, husband, nothing more,
You took us in your arms with joy
And shared the few things you did have.For all your love I now say thanks
And won't forget you all my life,
For all I know you gave to me,
My dearest, kindest mother heart.
Transliteration in Lowlands Orthography: Mudderdag 1996
fun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Maimaand 1997)De tweide Suendag in d'n Maimaand is al de mudders op unsen eirdbal tou-dachd. ,,Mudder'' ... Wat ligt nich in dit wourd an warms, leiv', sorg, help, gluek un wat noch allens! Leiver suelvst krank ween as dat kind liden sein. De kinder schuelt dat jaa maal beter hebben, sik nich soo af-wrukken as fadder un mudder dat naa d'n kriig muessen. Soo dachen de meirsten oeldern un hebt uut niks warrer wat op de beinen steld. Soo is dat ouk uns gaan. D'n 13. [deirtainden] Oktober 1945 [negenhunnerd fiiv-un-feirtig] stuend ik mit miin familje foer miin oeldernhuus.. Uns riikdom? 'n Oeldernhuus, 'n mudder dei uns mit apen arms an 't hat druekd het, sunde handen un 'n klaren kop dei uns wiis' wouneem dat nuu langs un wider gait. De groetsde stuetten woyr as uemmer uns Mamma. Dat sware woyr gaar nich meir soo swaar. Mamma see: ,,Wat jii ferloren hebt is tou ersetten; dat suend eirdsche goyder. Jii suend sund un jung. Got Fader ward wider helpen.'' ... un Hei hett holpen.
Dank an miin mudder
Jung buest duu kam'n in 't Olde Land.
Buest bleven daar 'n leven lang.
Uut 't schoyne Hulstein koymst duu her.
Hest uns ferteld fuel dii recht sweur.Doch all'ns koym anners as duu dachsd.
De leiv' hoyld in Olland dii fast.
Acht kinder broechst duu daar tou welt.
In sware tiden feel dat geld.Verlor'n hest aver nii diin moud.
De tiid het meint nich uemmer goud. Kein doun foer uns woyr dii tou feel. Harst sorg wen uns wat druek de seel.Uns wat tou leir'n noymst duu dii tiid. Mit gouden raat stuenst uns tou siid'.
Twei groute jungs duu hest ferlor'n.
Twei luette deirns daarnaa suend bor'n.Torueg koym ik naa flugt un kriig
mit kinder, man un wider niks.
Duu noymst uns in diin arms ful gluek.
Hest mit uns deild diin beten tuyg.Foer al diin leiv' seg ik dii dank.
Vergeit dii nich miin leven lang,
den wat ik kan, dat is diin wark,
miin leivet, goudet mudderhart.English translation by R. F. Hahn:
Mother's Day 1996by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(May 1997)The second Sunday in May has been dedicated to all mothers on Earth. "Mother" ... How much warmth, love, worry, help, happiness and whatever else lies in this word! Preferring to be ill oneself to having to watch one's child suffer. Hopefully one's children will be better off, will not have to slave the way father and mother needed to slave away after the war. This is how most parents used to think, and they created something from nothing. This is what happened to us, too. On the 13th of October 1945 my family and I stood in front of my childhood home. Our wealth? A childhood home, a mother who welcomed us with open arms and hugged us, healthy hands, and a clear head that showed us the way ahead. It was always Mommy from whom the greatest support came. Problems ceased to be so problematic. Mommy said, "What you have lost can be replaced. They are earthly goods. You are healthy and young. The Lord will help you go on." ... and help He did.
Thanks to my Mother
Young you arrived in the Old Land.
And there you stayed then all your life.
From lovely Holstein you had come.
As you told us, you found it hard.All turned out different than you thought.
Love tied you down in the Old Land.
Eight kids you brought into the world.
Money was scarce when times were hard.You never lost your courage though.
Times were not always kind to you.
For us you'd do most anything.
You'd worry when worries would get us down.You took the time to teach us things,
Stood at our sides with your advice.
Two adult sons you had to lose
And then you bore two baby girls.When I returned a refugee
With children, husband, nothing more,
You took us in your arms with joy
And shared the few things you did have.For all your love I now say thanks
And won't forget you all my life,
For all I know you gave to me,
My dearest, kindest mother heart.