I am a coachman
and have a pair of horses,
Two horses like eagles, indeed.
Many summers and winters, many hot
spells and cold spells,
Have I endured with them.
My home is the field, my bad is wagon,
My work is to crack the whip, so that
the horses will pull.
Through sand and through mire
As long as strength holds out
I
sing me a little song : giddap and
whoa.
And the horse’s boots fly
As I draw on the rein
And the wheels squeak and I call
Whoa, whoa.
Now as I sit thinking on the seat
And stroke my beard,
Then I can see how the wheels spin
How they roll away year upon year.
I muse over my horses, the white one
and the black,
I begin to urge them on and to whistle
and to whip.
Now when my features are ugly with
wrinkles
And my hair has turned gray,
Still my hands are stronger than iron
And never let go of the reins;
Strong is the whip in my calloused
hands,
Horses, giddap!
You must not be lazy. |
ikh bin mir a
furman un hob mir a por ferdelakh,
ferdelekh odlerz gor tsvey
fil zumerz un vinters, fil hitsn un keltn
hob ikh shoyn durkhgemakht mit zey.
mayn heym iz dos feld, un mayn bet iz der vogn,
mayn arbet iz shmaysn, az di ferd zoln trogn.
durkh zamd un durkh blote,
kol zman koyakh iz nor do
zing ikh mir a lidl : hayda un
vyo.
un di ferdlekh flien, flien,
flien
tu ikh mit di leytsez tsien,
tsien
un di reder skripn, makh ikh mit
di lipn:
vyo, vyo, vyo
haynt ven ikh zitz mir, fartrakht oyf der kelnye,
un glet fun mayn ferdl di hor,
dan tu ikh zeynen vi es katshn di reder
vi zey farshitn a yor nokh a yor.
ikh batrakht mir di ferdlekh dem vaysn un shvartsn
ikh heyb zey on traybn un fayfn un shmaysn.
haynt ven mayn ponim zeyt oys mies fun kneytshn
un groy iz gevorn mayn kop,
dokh mayne hent zenen shtarker vi ayzn
un lozn di leytsez nit op;
shtark iz no der knut in di hent fun mazolyes
ferdlekh, hayda!
men tor zikh nisht foyln. |
