On mother's 100th Birthday
In pale, deep folds
is lined her face so dear,
but our talk she cannot follow
as it swirls about her ears.
„All this“, its said ere long,
„Bemuses and confuses her, you see;
let 's celebrate with the song:
'Allendorf's linden tree'“!
'At the fountain by the gate,'
the words and tune did roll,
by custom and in art, from early date
they formed the country's very soul.
She had to struggle hard, forsooth,-
sent here and then sent there -
her whole childhood and youth
from pillar to post, in care.
No surprise, the fury of war,
the misery, expulsion , and flight,
the century's greatest terror,
she faced with stoic might.
Upright, clean,, erect,
'spite insult from the state,
father's rearing was correct,
hers, gentle, with patient grace.
The wings of the old tune
flutter to her what has passed.
Quiet, and with brightening face
she sings the song with us.
It might seem that 'the Lime Tree'
would give her peace and rest,
but, eyes shining, she now can see
her eternal home, at last.
(Nachdichtung: Derek Donaldson)