אַ בריוו פֿון אַמעריקע צו אַ ווײַטן פֿרײַנט
A Letter from America to a Distant Friend
Work 330 of 440
Page 387. 'A briv fun Amerike tsu a vaytn fraynt' (A Letter from America to a Distant Friend) dated 1927 — epistolary poem to a friend in the Old World. 'Vos makhstu, mayn khaver getreyer' (How are you, my faithful friend — Hebrew 'khaver'). The friend's name shines 'vi fayer' (like fire), refreshes 'vi a kval in der vist' (like a spring in the desert — biblical imagery). Often written 'in tser' (in sorrow); sorrow still runs ahead, much remains 'oyf morgn un oyf shpetere teg' (for tomorrow and later days). Winter fled, last snow dispersing — he sends unexpected stanzas. About 'land, folk un koleg' (country, people, colleague) with 'basheyedener shtrof' (modest punishment); about himself, carrying love 'vi... a vayse shof' (like a white sheep — innocent offering). Strange to feel 'fun vaytn dayne fingers barir' (from afar your fingers' touch); trembling goes through the paper before arrival. Truth: he wonders how he planted the friend 'in mayn harts — dem felzn-shteyn' (in my heart — the rock-stone). Heart as stone transformed by friendship.
אַ בריוו פֿון אַמעריקע צו אַ ווײַטן פֿרײַנט
(1927)
וואָס מאַכסטו, מײַן חבֿר געטרײַער,
ווי גייט דאָס דיר דאָרט, וואו דו ביסט?
דײַן נאָמען לויכט איבער מיר, ווי פֿײַער,
און דערפֿרישט מיך, ווי אַ קוואַל אין דער וויסט.
איך האָב אָפֿט צו דיר אין צער געשריבן,
צער פֿאַרלויפֿט מיר אויך איצטער דעם וועג,
ס׳איז אַ סך פֿון אים, אַ סך נאָך פֿאַרבליבן
אויף מאָרגן און אויף שפּעטערע טעג.
דער ווינטער איז אין אײַלעניש אַנטלאָפֿן,
זײַן לעצט ביסל שניי צעקריכט:
איך שיק דיר הײַנט אַזוינע סטראָפֿן,
וואָס אויף זיי האָסטו זיך גאָרניט געריכט.
וועגן לאַנד, פֿאָלק און קאָלעג —
און וואו ניט וואו אַ באַשיידענער שטראָף;
וועגן זיך, ווי איך טראָג דיר אַנטקעגן
מײַן ליבשאַפֿט — אַ ווײַסע שאָף.
אַזוי מאָדנע, אַזוי וואונדערלעך צו שפּירן
פֿון ווײַטן דײַנע פֿינגערס באַריר;
נאָך איידער ס׳איז געקומען צו דײַנע טירן —
נעמט אַ ציטער שוין דורך דאָס פּאַפּיר.
איך זאָג דעם אמת דיר אינגאַנצן,
איך וואונדער זיך אויף זיך אַליין
ווי אַזוי האָב איך געקענט דיך פֿאַרפֿלאַנצן
אין מײַן האַרץ — דעם פֿעלזן־שטיין.
A briv fun Amerike tsu a vaytn fraynt
(1927)
Vos makhstu, mayn khaver getreyer,
vi geyt dos dir dort, vu du bist?
Dayn nomen loykht iber mir, vi fayer,
un derfrisht mikh, vi a kval in der vist.
Ikh hob oft tsu dir in tser geshribn,
tser farloyft mir oykh itster dem veg,
s'iz a sakh fun im, a sakh nokh farblibn
oyf morgn un oyf shpetere teg.
Der vinter iz in aylenish antlofn,
zayn letst bisl shney tsekrikht:
ikh shik dir haynt azoyne strofn,
vos oyf zey hostu zikh gornit gerikht.
Vegn land, folk un koleg —
un vu nit vu a basheyedener shtrof;
vegn zikh, vi ikh trog dir antkegn
mayn libshaft — a vayse shof.
Azoy modne, azoy vunderlekh tsu shpirn
fun vaytn dayne fingers barir;
nokh eyder s'iz gekumen tsu dayne tirn —
nemt a tsiter shoyn durkh dos papir.
Ikh zog dem emes dir ingantsn,
ikh vunder zikh oyf zikh aleyn
vi azoy hob ikh gekent dikh farflantsn
in mayn harts — dem felzn-shteyn.
A Letter from America to a Distant Friend
(1927)
How are you, my faithful friend,
how goes it for you there, where you are?
Your name shines above me, like fire,
and refreshes me, like a spring in the desert.
I have often written to you in sorrow,
sorrow still runs before me on the path,
there is much of it, much still remaining
for tomorrow and for later days.
The winter has fled in haste,
its last bit of snow crawls apart:
I send you today such stanzas,
as you never expected.
About country, people and colleague —
and here and there a modest punishment;
about myself, how I carry toward you
my love — a white sheep.
So strange, so wonderful to feel
from afar the touch of your fingers;
even before it has come to your door —
a trembling already goes through the paper.
I tell you the whole truth,
I wonder at myself
how I was able to plant you
in my heart — the rock-stone.
Page 387. 'A briv fun Amerike tsu a vaytn fraynt' (A Letter from America to a Distant Friend) dated 1927 — epistolary poem to a friend in the Old World. 'Vos makhstu, mayn khaver getreyer' (How are you, my faithful friend — Hebrew 'khaver'). The friend's name shines 'vi fayer' (like fire), refreshes 'vi a kval in der vist' (like a spring in the desert — biblical imagery). Often written 'in tser' (in sorrow); sorrow still runs ahead, much remains 'oyf morgn un oyf shpetere teg' (for tomorrow and later days). Winter fled, last snow dispersing — he sends unexpected stanzas. About 'land, folk un koleg' (country, people, colleague) with 'basheyedener shtrof' (modest punishment); about himself, carrying love 'vi... a vayse shof' (like a white sheep — innocent offering). Strange to feel 'fun vaytn dayne fingers barir' (from afar your fingers' touch); trembling goes through the paper before arrival. Truth: he wonders how he planted the friend 'in mayn harts — dem felzn-shteyn' (in my heart — the rock-stone). Heart as stone transformed by friendship.
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